“The last few years Dad must have tossed the invites out before I could see them.”
Huh. Maybe her father recognized who was having trouble moving on as well.
“Well, you should go again,” Emma suggested. Her sister was friends with just about everyone under forty in town. No doubt she could organize a fun girls’ day out and start a whole new tradition while still holding on to the memory of the times with their mother.
Jess shook her head. “It would be too hard without her.” She wiped the corner of one eye.
“I’m sure she’d want you to continue going…remember the times you went together.”
Jess sniffed as she shook her head. “I don’t know…”
“Okay, well, it’s your choice…”
“Would you go with me?” Jess surprised her by asking.
Crap. “Uh…” Fashion was not her thing, and if Jess’s current state at just the sight of the invite was any indication, it wouldn’t be a fun event. “Why don’t you invite a bunch of girlfriends and book an entire table? Start a whole new tradition.” Two hundred dollars a ticket for an event she really had no interest in attending didn’t appeal to her, either.
“You don’t want to go…that’s fine.” She slid the invite back into the envelope. “I’ll let Dad know you’ll be by tomorrow.” She took Terror’s leash and opened the front door.
Emma released a deep breath. As much of a pain in the ass as her sister was, she hated to see her upset and disappointed. Jess had been close to their mom, and if she needed this to help with the healing process, Emma could be there for her. “Okay, fine, I’ll go.”
Jess shook her head, sniffing once more as she removed Terror’s boots and hung them to dry. “No, it’s okay. It’s not your thing. I won’t insist on dragging you to something you’ll hate.”
Since when? Her sister had passive aggression down to a science. “Jess. I’ll go,” she said again, already regretting it.
“Really?”
Emma nodded.
Her sister stepped back outside and hugged her tight. “Thanks, Em. I’ll make the reservation as soon as I get to work.”
* * *
Had his mother been up all night?
With the aid of his crutch, Asher made his way downstairs, where boxes of Christmas decorations—lights, inflatables, and an old wooden practically life-sized nativity set—sat at the bottom of the stairs. Half of this stuff he hadn’t seen in years. She’d had it all this time still collecting dust in the attic? His mother didn’t get rid of anything.
She opened the front door and stomped snow from her boots as she reached for another box of lights.
“How long have you been up?” he asked. He’d gone to bed sometime after midnight, and she’d been in the attic then.
“I haven’t been to bed yet,” she said, though she looked anything but tired. Obviously running on competitive holiday fuel and pumpkin spice lattes, judging from the smell coming from the kitchen. “You should come out and see what I have done so far.”
“Maybe later,” he said as his cell phone rang in his pocket.
“Great. I’ll let you know when it’s done so you can get the full effect,” she said, heaving the box of lights outside.
“Can’t wait,” he mumbled, heading into the kitchen. At least she wasn’t expecting him to help.
He glanced at the caller ID and contemplated letting it go to voice mail. “Hey, Juliette, what’s up?” He answered the call on the last ring.
“You haven’t RSVP’d to the award ceremony next weekend. I’m sure it was an oversight, but I need a confirmation,” the assistant to the head of NHL corporate events said, sounding as though there were a million other calls she needed to make and she just needed a quick response.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t decided if he would attend. Had he played his milestone game the week before, he would have been recognized at the annual holiday event that celebrated achievements throughout the year. Now, attending would feel like rubbing salt in a wound, knowing the award had slipped through his fingers.
“Asher…”
“Yeah, I’m here. With the injury, I’m just not sure I’ll be able to make it.” He poured himself a cup of his mother’s homemade pumpkin spice latte and took a sip, his eyes widening at the strong taste of amaretto. Spiked homemade pumpkin spice latte. He poured it down the sink—too early.
“You’re recovering back in your hometown right? In Colorado?” Juliette asked.
“Yeah…”
“So there’s no excuse. It’s not like you’d have to fly from Jersey,” she said. “I’m putting you down as confirmed.”
She wasn’t an easy woman to argue with. He shouldn’t have answered the call. “Fine…sure.” He didn’t have to stay long. Just make a quick appearance and get out of there. With his contract renegotiation coming up, it was probably best that he at least show up.
“Great, because your brother is nominated for the NHL Man of the Year award.”
Asher clenched his teeth. Yes, he knew all about it. Ben had been nominated for the prestigious award in September, due to his leading the Avalanche to a Stanley Cup win and the fundraising he’d done for his children’s charities. It had been irritating enough to know that the year Asher was going to be honored with an award, Ben was potentially in the running for one as well. And now it was only Ben.
“And…we were hoping you’d present him the award,” Juliette continued.
His grip tightened on the phone. Ben had won? Fuck Ben. Was there anything his brother wanted that he didn’t get? Asher couldn’t name a single, solitary thing.
And now his brother would be accepting an award and he wouldn’t be.
“Asher—so you’ll do it?”
Of course they assumed he would. They were brothers and co-athletes and professionals who could put aside grievances on the ice…He sighed. “Yes, yeah, I can do it. I’ll be there.”
“Plus one?”
Damn right. He wasn’t doing this alone. “Yes, plus one.”
“Great. Also, I need the addresses for your parents and siblings…and anyone else you think should be there to see Ben being honored. Their invites will remind them to keep the secret, and they will be held in a private dinner area until the award is presented.”
She continued to ramble on with more details about his role, but he tuned out. After giving her the information she needed, he disconnected the call and tossed the phone onto the counter.
He ran a hand over his scruffy chin and then rested his palms against the counter, his head falling forward.
Unbelievable. Now, not only did he have to go to the event, knowing he wouldn’t be honored that year, but he had to award another honor to the guy responsible?
Reaching for the coffee pot, he poured another cup of the spiked pumpkin spice latte.
* * *
Staring at her acceptance letter in her office, Emma sighed. Even at the best-case scenario and Ash fully recovered in four more weeks, that would bring them up to January 1. There was no way she could get everything organized and arranged to be in Florida to start the semester by the following week.
The disappointment she felt at the idea of turning down the early enrollment opportunity reconfirmed her desire to pursue her PhD. She wanted this. Giving up snowboarding might have been premature at the time and something that had been partially out of her control, but she’d gone out at the top of her career. Ultimately, the forced retirement had been a good thing.
If only there was a way to make this work.
But Ash needed her, and this was where she needed to be. September wasn’t that far away, and it had been the original plan anyway, right?
Jane knocked on the therapy room door, and Emma folded the letter and tucked it away. “Is my eleven o’clock here already?” she asked, glancing at the time on her computer.
“No. I, uh…just wanted to ask you something.”
Emma waited.
“Do you know if Asher is seeing anyone
? He keeps his personal life out of the media so well…” She gave a nervous laugh.
Emma’s mouth went dry. The gorgeous redhead was interested in Ash? Of course she was. Who wasn’t?
“Em?”
She blinked. “Oh, right…um, no. I mean, I don’t think so. He doesn’t always tell me everything,” she said, hoping to dismiss the conversation with a wave. She stood. “I better get everything set up for my next appointment.” She walked toward the table, but instead of leaving, Jane followed.
“But as far as you know, he’s single?”
Emma’s throat felt like it was closing off. “Yep.” She ripped the old sheet from the table and balled it, tossing it into the hamper.
Jane released a deep breath. “Well, do you think he’d go for someone like me?”
Someone drop-dead gorgeous with a full figure and amazing hair? Probably. “I really don’t know Asher’s type…” She shrugged, opening a cabinet and taking out a clean sheet.
“Come on, Em…give me something. I’m a single mom who hasn’t been on a date in almost three years.”
Emma sighed. “He’d be crazy not to be interested in you,” she said, flicking the sheet into the air and securing the corners as it fell.
Jane smiled. “Well, I know this will sound completely lame, but do you think you could set us up?”
“No!” The word slipped out before she could stop it.
Jane frowned. “Okay…”
Emma forced a laugh. “It’s just, I think he’d respond better to you asking him yourself.” This entire conversation was killing her. She wanted Asher, and she needed to do something about it before she lost him. His leg was starting to feel better, his mood was better…Soon, she’d tell him how she felt.
“Is he coming in to see you today?” Jane asked.
Emma turned to glance at her, hoping for a miracle and that the woman had forgotten to put on makeup that day…or at least was sporting a sloppy ponytail. Nope. Jane was as put-together and gorgeous as ever, pulling off a dark charcoal pencil skirt that accentuated her waist and full hips in a way Emma would have to get butt implants to pull off. “Yes. He is.”
Jane smiled. “Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll ask him out.”
“Fantastic. Hey, can you close the door behind you?” she asked as Jane headed toward it.
Once it shut, Emma slumped in her chair, glancing at her sensible black dress pants and pale blue polo shirt with the therapy logo in the corner.
Given the choice between her—his flat-chested, no-ass friend whom he’d seen naked a million times already—and the mysterious sex bomb, who would Ash choose?
* * *
His brother Jackson turned in to the therapy office parking lot. He had made the mistake of stopping by that morning, and immediately their mother had put him to work on the decorations for the yard. Driving Asher to his therapy session had been Jackson’s escape. “Can’t catch a break, huh?” he asked him.
Asher had spilled the beans about the Man of the Year Award, unable to keep the frustrating, ironic turn of events to himself. “Look, you know I’m happy for Ben…for everything he’s achieved, but this is just a kick to the nuts.” He didn’t begrudge his brother the award; he just wished it were happening under different circumstances. Delivering a speech the following weekend that praised Ben for all of his accomplishments wouldn’t be so damn hard if he wasn’t still pissed at the guy.
“I don’t envy you, man,” Jackson said. “The only advice I can give you is to just think of him as Ben, your brother, and not Ben, your competition, for once.”
“Probably the only way I’ll be able to get through a speech honoring him,” he agreed, knowing Jackson was right.
“And you know Mom’s going to expect you two to put this fighting behind you before the holidays.”
Asher reached for the door handle. “The only thing on her mind is beating Mr. Callaway for the tackiest house on the block.”
Jackson’s cell chimed. “Speak of the devil.” He read the text. “I’ve been gone too long.” He sighed. “Do you need a ride back?”
Asher climbed out of the car. “Nah. I’ll hang out with Em tonight. I’m her last patient of the day,” he said, suddenly feeling a little better and eager to get this appointment finished so they could go back to her place for the evening. Without the meds he was suffering a little more, and she was the only thing that eased his pain.
“All right, man. Take it easy,” Jackson said as he closed the door.
Entering the clinic, he tugged the big, heavy old door closed behind him.
“Hey, Asher,” Jane said, standing as she saw him.
“Hi, Jane. How are you?” he asked, approaching the desk and leaning over it. If he sat again, getting up would be a struggle.
“I’m great. Um, actually, I wanted to ask you…if maybe you wanted to grab a drink at the Grumpy Stump tonight?”
Caught slightly off guard, he laughed. “You don’t hang out there, do you? You’re far too pretty to be slobbered on by all the local single men.”
She blushed. “Thanks. Actually, I don’t hang out anywhere. Single-mom life doesn’t lend itself to many dates. Not that this would be a date…”
Oh damn. He felt like an ass saying no to the woman who was obviously putting herself out there…but he wasn’t interested in dating. In fact, since his last semi-permanent situation ended a while ago, he’d been enjoying how things were going with Emma. Right now, she was certainly the only one he wanted to be with. “I…uh…”
Emma appeared in the reception area, an unreadable expression on her face as she glanced back and forth between the two of them.
“Well, the thing is…I promised Emma I’d do that…thing with her tonight,” he said, looking at her to save him.
Her expression softened slightly as she slowly nodded. “Right, you did promise me you would do that…thing tonight.”
He smiled. Saved. Now he could resume getting excited about a full evening with her, naked, with no pressure of a flight out the next day or having to be anywhere at all. The idea excited him beyond the sexy thoughts coming to mind. He looked forward to just being with her, holding her, kissing her, and talking. He’d been so caught up in his own problems the last few weeks, he had no idea what was going on with her.
“Okay, yeah, no problem,” Jane said, busying herself with the papers on her desk.
He felt like a jerk. He turned to Emma for help.
“Um…maybe Asher could get you and Aiden tickets for a game in Denver,” she said.
Perfect. Right there—that’s why he loved her so much. The thought made him pause. Love? Of course, love. She was his best friend.
“Right, Ash?” she said when he’d yet to confirm her suggestion.
“Oh, yeah…no problem.”
Jane smiled. “Aiden would love that. Thank you,” she said, sitting back down at her desk as the phone rang.
Emma’s eyes held a hint of amusement as he followed her into her therapy room.
“What?” he asked.
She closed the door behind them and grinned. “You just turned down a hot date to suffer through dinner at my sister’s house tonight.”
Oh shit.
Chapter 9
So, you’re sure it’s okay that I come along?”
Emma nodded as they got out of her car in her sister’s driveway.
Asher glanced toward the two-story home. Unlike most neighborhoods in Glenwood Falls, where the houses were all different shapes and sizes, with full backyards and lawns, these homes were mirror images of one another, with so little space between them that he suspected the neighbors could hear one another sneeze…among other things. He liked his privacy far too much. A home like this would make him claustrophobic. Even his bachelor pad in New Jersey was a top unit, corner suite, giving him the illusion of privacy at least. “Like ‘she invited me’ okay? Or ‘she’ll give you pointed looks all night’ okay?” he asked, struggling to get out of her low-riding vehicle and reaching i
nto the backseat for his crutch. Two weeks into therapy, he’d removed the brace, but still relied on the crutch for support.
“Does it matter?” she asked, a look of anxiety on her face.
She’d been slightly on edge since picking him up, but she was always that way whenever she was seeing her sister. “Yes.”
“Fine. The second one.”
“Emma!” he growled, contemplating getting back in the car, but it was too late.
The front door opened and the first of the many looks appeared, before Jess hid it behind a forced smile. “Asher, nice to see you.”
“Oh, you don’t mean that, Jess,” he said with a wide, fake smile of his own as he leaned in to accept her awkward-as-shit hug. “But something smells delicious,” he said as she closed the front door behind them.
“Hey, Jess,” Emma said, handing her sister the expensive bottle of wine Jess had asked her to pick up on the way over.
Jess frowned, looking at the bottle. “This is a ninety-six. I wanted the ninety-seven.”
“This was the only one they had,” Emma said.
“Did you ask Cliff? He usually puts it away for me.”
“No, I did not ask Cliff.” Emma’s voice was tight. He could almost see the knots of tension forming in her neck and shoulders. Being around her family always had this effect on her. Why she insisted on putting herself—and him—through it, he didn’t know.
“Ninety-six, ninety-seven, either way, it’s old grapes, right?” Asher said with a shrug.
“Its fine,” Jess said—look number two, the one that said, You’re even dumber than you look, appearing on her thin features.
Body-wise, the two sisters couldn’t be more different. Jess was tall and slightly curvy, not at all athletic-looking like Em, but their features were identical. The same small nose and brilliant brown eyes, framed by long blond lashes, full pouty lips, and high cheekbones. Their beauty came from their mother, who’d always been mistaken for a third sister.
Emma removed her coat and took his, hanging them on a hook near the door.
Maybe This Christmas Page 10