Page 26 of Rookie Season
He shakes his head. “Trista offered to come and replace the lock. Figured I’d save us some time.” With a few hard yanks, the screws holding the lock give way and the shed door opens.
It’s kind of sexy, this lumberjack version of him, though I’m not about to admit it.
Inside, the shed is packet with outdoor toys and tools.
“I thought that coming to this cabin would help everyone bond and take a weight off, stop thinking about the game and everything going on,” Ryan says as he rummages through a work bench.
“It is,” I insist. “Everyone is having a good time.”
He doesn’t answer. When he turns up a saw, he nods in satisfaction.
We walk through the woods together, me rushing to keep pace with him. He doesn’t notice, his breath puffing in the cold and his hair curling against his forehead.
“Tell me more about your normal Christmas. What’s it like if you’re not with the team?” I ask.
“Lots of meals. My mom taught me to cook.”
“So you kids could fend for yourselves?”
“More like she didn’t want us winding up being a burden on our partners.”
I’m surprised, but maybe I shouldn’t be. “That’s very cool of her.”
“She’s a cool lady.”
I snort.
“What?”
“You just described your mom as a cool lady.”
“She is.” He cuts me a curious look, grinning. “So, why are you such a grinch?”
I don’t want to get into it, but Ryan’s so charming and roguish, and being here with him in the snow makes it feel as though everything is easy.
“Growing up with a family sports bar, Christmas was just another day. We worked. Instead of opening presents in pajamas, we were refilling drinks and running food.”
“No traditions?”
“Not really. Another day with better tips.”
“I’m sorry.”
I look up to see him watching me, his dark brows pulled together. I force a laugh. “Don’t be. It’s the job.”
He’s being so sweet. In my line of work, I hear a lot of people talk about their problems. Maybe not as many as some bartenders because it’s a fast-paced sports bar and not some backstreet dive, but I care about other people and can tell when another person’s interest is genuine.
It sounds as if Ryan actually cares about me and my life.
I lick my lips. “So, what kind of tree are we looking for?”
“The perfect fit for the cabin.”
“A small one.”
“Nope, there’s that peaked roof. Right over by the woodstove is the perfect spot. It’s got to be twelve feet tall at least.”
He would know, as he’s a lot closer to that height than I am.
