Page 13 of Rookie Season
“How are you going to cut one down?” Jay asks.
“There’s a shed out back. Must have tools.”
The group of us bundle up and head outside.
In front of the cabin is the parking area and a few trees between us and the road. Behind the building is the hot tub with a pile of wood at one side. There’s a clearing with a small shed, plus a path that leads into the woods.
“It’s locked,” Jay says when we get to the shed.
Ryan curses, yanking on the padlock. “There was nothing up at the cabin.”
“Your girlfriend didn’t leave you a key?”
I think of the woman who swooped in and plastered herself all over him earlier.
Ryan could do better—not that he’s looking for a serious relationship or given me an indication he is, but that’s my hot take as someone who makes a living not just pouring drinks but listening to people.
“What about skating?” Nova suggests. “Trista said there was a pond here. Maybe if there is, there are skates around somewhere too.”
We follow the directions she left us to the rink. We start down the path, and it’s not long before we break through a stand of trees.
“Look!” Nova cries, delighted.
The little pond is iced over. It’s pristine and pretty, and even I can’t deny its charm.
Nova trips out onto the surface, slipping and laughing with glee. Brooke follows, running and sliding until she collides with her friend, grabbing her hands. They both go down in a giggling pile.
Jay’s next, his sister demanding he help her up. Soon everyone’s out there, running and sliding.
Not everyone’s on the ice. I glance over to see Ryan leaning against a tree, hands stuffed in his pockets and a serious expression on his face.
Okay, so I’m the Christmas grinch. I shouldn’t kick a puppy when he’s down, but I can’t help it.
I sidle up to him. “Guess the tree wasn’t meant to be.”
“Oh, we’re getting a tree.” His gaze locks with mine, and I see he’s determined, not sad. “No way that’s getting in the way of the perfect Christmas.”
Surprise has me snorting. “You’re that worried about losing and having to do media?”
“Reporters are out for blood come January.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
He lifts a brow. “We’re world champions. I say something stupid, next thing you know, it’s all over social media. Every sports program in the world.”
“That is pretty bad,” I concede. “But you can’t know exactly what sportscasters are going to say, so you’ll do better if you just roll with it.”
He folds his arms. His gaze flicks down me and back up. “Roll with it, huh?”
I’m suspicious but too late. He grabs my hands and tugs me toward the ice where the rest of the crew is laughing and shouting as they run and slide on the slick surface.
“Me and ice are not a good combination,” I warn, digging in my heels.
It’s as if I didn’t put up any resistance at all. He’s still tugging, and I’m tripping as he steps onto the ice first.
“You were the one who said we had to roll with it,” he reminds me. He slides backward, graceful even without skates.
“You. You have to roll with it.” My voice lifts at the end. I size up the slippery surface, wishing I’d worn grippier boots.
