Page 2 of Touchdown Under the Mistletoe
“I can’t believe this. These pipes aren’t supposed to burst. They’re top-notch quality,” my father mutters.
“Maybe the pipes are too old, Dad,” I suggest. “Or maybe this is one of those Christmas mishaps you sometimes read about. At least we were able to save some of Mom’s cookies,” I joke in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“True, there’s a silver lining to everything.” Dad grabs a cookie from the plate, scrutinizing the melted frosting before shrugging and popping it into his mouth. “Now come and give your old man a hug, Riley. With all this water damage going on, I haven’t had a chance to give my favorite daughter a proper welcome.”
“Favorite?” I roll my eyes at his silly joke but still can’t suppress a smile. “I’m youronlydaughter, Dad.”
“I hate to cut into your father-daughter time, but we should start mopping up these floors,” Mom says, her gaze sweeping over the mess.
The floor is covered in soggy towels, and the lower cabinets are already showing signs of water damage. What a disaster. They just had their cabinets redone last year.
“I know, but we’re all out of towels, Mom. Unless you want to use the ones from the main bathroom?”
She frowns. “No way. You can grab the old rags from the other bathroom, but I’m not sacrificing my expensive fluffy towels.”
I head upstairs and rummage through the bathroom closet, gathering a stack of seven old towels. It’s not nearly enough, though. Even after using them all until they’re soaked to the core, there’s still a massive amount of water on the kitchen floor.
“Would you mind running over to the Steelbirds next door and asking them if we can borrow some? Tell Rebecca I’ll give them back washed and ironed,” Mom says.
“Sure thing.”
I leave Mom and Dad in the kitchen, wringing out the soaking-wet towels. Slipping back into my winter boots, I button up my coat and pull on my knitted hat. The cold air bites at mycheeks as I trudge through the snow to the Steelbirds’ house next door.
I press the doorbell and am immediately greeted by the sound of a cheerful Christmas song ringing through the house. After a moment, the door swings open.
I expected to see Rebecca or Benjamin here, maybe their daughter—and my childhood friend—Aspen if she’s visiting from Fog Harbor this year, but not…
“Travis,” I mutter.
“Riley?” he asks, blinking as if he’s not quite sure his eyes are working properly.
It’s him all right. Leaning against the doorframe, looking every bit the hot NFL superstar he’s become. My former boy next door looks effortlessly casual in a hoodie and jeans. His dark hair is tousled like he just got out of bed, and he’s holding a steaming mug of what I can only guess is hot chocolate, given the faint smell wafting from it.
“Um, we’re… I…”
What are words again?
I take a deep breath in, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. I’ll deal with this huge surprise of Travis being home for the holidays later. Right now, I need towels. “We’ve got a plumbing disaster next door. Mom’s in a panic, and we’re all out of towels.”
Travis steps aside, motioning me in with a gracious wave. “Come on in. I’ll get you some towels. And maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll even throw in some hot cocoa to go with them.”
He winks at me, and I can already feel that old torch I thought I’d extinguished long ago flaring up again.
I’m in big, big trouble.
Chapter Two
Travis
Of all the people I expected to see on my parents’ doorstep today, Riley Quinn wasn’t one of them. Not that it should be a surprise. She lives next door after all. Or used to anyway, back when we were both younger. Still, I didn’t think she’d be the first person I’d see after arriving back in Maplewood Springs.
Yet here she is, standing in our entryway with snowflakes melting on her knitted hat. How much time has passed since we last saw each other? Four years? Five?
“So, towels?” Riley prompts, and I realize I’ve been standing here like an idiot, staring at her.
“Right. Towels. For the plumbing disaster at your parents’ house.” I set my mug down on the hallway table and gesture toward the stairs. “Mom keeps extras in the linen closet upstairs.”
We climb the stairs together, and it’s almost as if I’m being transported back in time. Riley’s brother, Beau, and I were practically joined at the hip in high school. Now we’re both grown up. Beau is going through a divorce, and I’m juggling an NFL career while trying to stay sane. And Riley, she’s grown up too. She was always beautiful, but even more so now.
