Page 4 of Rookie Season
My teammates call me the Christmas King.
Okay, they don’t yet, but by the time this trip is done, they will.
This is my favorite time of year. It has been since long before I moved to Colorado straight out of college in Kentucky to join the Kodiaks.
It’s not every year we get a few days off that line up with the holiday, and I’m going to be the ultimate host. We have two days until we have to be back in Denver for a Christmas game, and we’re going to make the most of every second of fun and relaxation.
The crunch of snow under tires has us both looking up.
I walk toward the corner of the cabin and see Brooke’s car come into view and park next to mine. Jay’s right behind me. He lifts a hand as though he’s going to call out, but I shush him.
“What are you doing?” Jay hisses.
We peer around the corner as Nova, Brooke, and finally Sierra get out of the car.
“Welcoming the girls,” I respond under my breath.
My gaze locks on Sierra picking up the rear as the girls head for the cabin. Dark hair spills over shoulders that carry way more than their narrowness suggests. A black ski parka extends partway down leggings clinging to toned thighs. Her feet disappear into Docs that stomp through the snow.
She’s short. Not as short as Nova, but without heels, Sierra’s probably small enough that her head would tuck easily under mine.
Because I think about shit like that.
Sierra adjusts her bag on her shoulder before heading up the stairs to the door.
I start after them.
It’s hard to sneak up on someone when you’re carrying a hundred pounds of logs, but I don’t back down from a challenge.
“Missing someone?” I say when I step inside right behind Sierra.
“Shit!” She jumps and spins, impressively all at the same time. It’s a move our offensive coach would line up for playoffs. When she spots me, her round eyes hurl accusation. “What the fuck, Ryan!?”
Sierra’s usually behind the bar at Mile High when I see her. I’ve hung out with her a few times at a team party or with the other girls, but not nearly enough.
“Merry Christmas,” I say.
“You give me a heart attack in the next day, I won’t live to see it,” she retorts, eyes flashing.
Fuck, she’s cute. She looks as if she’d like to take a blowtorch to my face.
Unlike most of the women I’ve met since signing as a pro athlete, the looks she sends me aren’t inviting or seductive. They’re all laughing, withering, or pitying. On a lucky day, they’re all three.
“Hey, Ryan!” Nova calls from where she’s pulling back from an embrace with Clay. “Great cabin. I love how rustic it is.”
“Yeah, I actually have a bone to pick with you over that,” Brooke calls from the kitchen.
Clay grunts. “It’s got running water.”
I ignore my teammate and tear myself away from Sierra to set the wood down by the fire and brush the crumbled bits of bark off my hands. “It is full service. You tell me what you need and it’s done.”
“Dude, stop offering my fiancée your services,” Miles calls from upstairs.
I scored us this cabin in Beaver Creek. Technically, it’s just outside the doors of the gated community because I wanted to be unique.
Those houses would be full service, complete with butlers. Who needs that?
Just because we can afford to doesn’t mean we should. Part of the charm is being away from the spotlight and close to nature, which is why I was outside getting my own wood from the firewood pile behind the cabin.
