Page 21 of Sheep Calm and Merry On
Huffing a laugh, Devon collapsed next to him and plucked the box of tissues off the nightstand. “I’ll take you up on that.”
“Mm,” Noah said again. He practically purred into Devon’s touch as Devon cleaned the mess from his body. “I’m counting on it.”
Devon was going to spoil him stupid. He dropped a kiss on Noah’s shoulder and pulled the blankets back up. “What do you think?” he asked as he curled himself around Noah. “New Christmas tradition?”
“I’m in,” Noah said. “But like, next year let’s skip the roadside rescue.”
“YOU’RE SURE you want to do this.”
Devon gave Noah a look. They might’ve only known each other a little over a week, but it didn’t take a genius to read it. I’m not going to break.
Fair. He raised his hands. “Sorry. But like, it’s going to be a lot. Not actually because of the hockey thing.”
Now Devon tilted his head. “Not because of the hockey thing?”
“You can handle the hockey.” Noah waved his hand and ushered Devon toward the frozen pond.
“Then…?”
“Last week you thought it was too soon to meet my parents and this week you’re hosting both our extended families for a New Year’s Day skate and Winter Classic watch party?” Did Devon not realize Noah’s parents were still die-hard Wings fans even though Noah had played for Buffalo? And Devon was an Avs alumnus. Detroit so happened to be playing Colorado for this year’s Winter Classic. Noah expected bloodshed on the ice, but Devon was willing to risk it in his living room as well, apparently, after their early exit from Christmas dinner.
“As long as nobody sees me fall on my ass, I’ll be fine.”
Which was why Noah and Devon were out here in the back pasture at nine in the morning, skates and helmets slung over their shoulders. Devon’d brought a shovel out on the snowmobile too, because God knew the ice was going to need scraping before anyone could skate on it.
Noah had never met a professional hockey player, current or former, who’d willingly wear a helmet when he didn’t have to in a non-game scenario. But Devon had come out of the barn attic two days ago with just the skates, stick, and helmet. Noah was pretty sure that was for his benefit. He didn’t take unnecessary risks with his brain, but it felt nice not to be alone in that.
“I promise not to take video.”
They’d tested the ice the night before, but Noah double-checked it now before he skated out. The unseasonably cold weather had held, and the pond was frozen a good six inches deep.
He picked up the shovel while Devon was still lacing up, taking his time.
“You could’ve been ice crew,” Devon commented teasingly after Noah had made a few passes. The ice was surprisingly smooth, given how windy it had been. “You’re a natural.”
Noah flung a shovel of snow at his feet. “Believe it or not, teaching actually pays better.” Judging the surface sufficiently cleared for now, he tossed the shovel off to the side and held out his hand. “Now quit stalling. We’ve got to knock the rust off before people start getting here, and we’ve only got, like, four hours. Come here and start your therapy homework.”
He might’ve felt cautious about it, but Devon’s therapist had already given this plan her stamp of approval, especially since they were starting small, with outdoor rinks and kids and family only. And Noah could see the banked excitement in Devon’s face as he looked at the pond.
Finally his blade touched the frozen water.
He didn’t wobble. Noah let him take a few slow laps by himself, while he stood there leaning on his hockey stick, soaking it in. Devon deserved a few moments of peace to reconnect.
But a few moments was apparently all he wanted, because once he’d pushed himself up to speed, he flew down the ice away from Noah, turned on a dime, raced back, snowed to a stop in front of him, and nodded to the stick. “One-on-one?”
Oh, so that was how it was going to be? Noah grinned. “You think you can take me? You’re kinda rusty.”
“I have experience,” Devon retorted as he fished his stick out from the straps of their shared gear bag. He flipped a puck onto the blade and batted it toward the center of the pond. “Besides, you’ve only been playing with kids. It’s a fair fight.”
He turned out to be mostly right—Devon’s years of pro experience against Noah’s more recent but less intense exposure. But after half an hour and two hilarious falls—both due to irregularities in the ice that Noah marked off with a can of orange spray paint—Devon was panting and groaning, and they decided to pack it in and save some energy for later.
“I can’t believe Gable knocked up my sister,” Devon grumbled as they let themselves back into the house for coffee and second breakfast.
Noah elbowed him. “You can get him back later,” he promised, mock serious, and laughed when Devon kissed him about it. “I can’t believe we missed the announcement because we left early. They couldn’t hold on to that for another week?”
“It’s not like they knew we were going to host a New Year’s party.” Devon handed him a full, hot mug. “I’m just glad she’s not due in lambing season.”
Noah had been in the middle of taking a drink, and he almost sprayed coffee out his nose. “I’m telling her you said that.”
