Mistletoe Games

by Jaci Burton

  Ugh. Maybe coffee first. Then she’d muster up the energy to leave.

  She found her underwear and pulled on one of Trick’s sweatshirts, which was utterly oversize and fell to her thighs. Awesome. She added her socks and went into the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee using his Keurig. The smell was glorious. She added cream and leaned against the breakfast bar, surveying his domain.

  For a simple guy, he sure lived well. His apartment was gorgeous, with dark wood floors, a decent-sized kitchen with kick-ass appliances and modern furniture in the living room, plus a great view of the city. He had two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and, for a single guy—or even a couple with no kids—it was perfect.

  Not that Stella was thinking of Trick being part of a couple, or of her being part of a couple with him. But if in her wildest fantasies she entertained the idea, she could definitely live here. It was close to the subway and she could be at the Theater District in no time at all.

  Not that the thought had occurred to her or anything.

  Okay, maybe the thought occurred to her. She took another couple sips of coffee and wandered over to the windows. Fresh snow coated the rooftops and down below, making everything look clean and giving the city a bright shine. From inside the warmth of Trick’s apartment, it felt like Christmas. She turned around and slid into one of Trick’s comfortable chairs.

  The problem was, indoors it wasn’t the holidays at all. He had no decorations. Nothing. Not even a wreath on the door, or a candle on any of the tables.

  He at least needed a Christmas tree. Maybe one set off in the corner between the living room and entry area. There was plenty of space for one. Not a super huge tree, but a moderate-sized one would definitely fit there.

  She was projecting and she knew it, but she had no room in her apartment for a real tree, so she had a tiny one-foot fake tree on her kitchen pass-through. It was the best she could do to bring the holiday into her place.

  But here? Trick could do so much decorating, which had always been one of her favorite things about the holiday. She remembered all the Christmases she and Greta had shared with their parents.

  She paused, drank her coffee, and thought about her mom and dad. Dad was always so busy with work that he never took the time to come out here to visit, had never once seen her dance. Work was always more important. Her mom had flown out a couple of times.

  It wasn’t the same.

  “You look deep in thought.”

  She lifted her gaze to see Trick coming in, wearing a pair of low-slung workout pants and no shirt, his feet bare. His hair was sleep mussed and he looked absolutely gorgeous.

  Yeah, she could get used to seeing him dressed like that every morning.

  “I put a cup out for you.”

  “Thanks.” He brewed a cup of coffee and came over to sit next to her. “So what were you thinking about?”

  “My parents.”

  “Yeah? What about them?”

  She shouldn’t get into it with him, was surprised she’d even brought it up. “Oh, nothing.”

  He laid his cup down and grasped her hand. “Tell me.”

  She took a deep breath.

  “I miss my parents. It’s the holidays, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know. Where do they live?”

  “Portland, Oregon.”

  “So why don’t you fly back and see them over the holiday break? You get a rehearsal break, right?”

  She nodded. “It’s a really busy time of year, both for flying and for me. Such a hassle. Besides, Greta’s going to come up here and look for a place.”

  “Okay. So have your parents come out here and spend Christmas with you.”

  She laughed. “My dad wouldn’t take the time. He barely takes Christmas Day off work.”

  “He’s come out for your performances before, hasn’t he?”

  “No.”

  He gave her an incredulous look. “Never?”

  “Never. He owns a transportation company. He’s always at work, always has been at work. I imagine he always will be at work until he dies. That’s just what he does. Work is his life.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged. “I’m used to it. He made his choices and we all live with it. My mom has seen me dance, when he allows her to get away. She works for his company, too, so it’s hard for her to get the time off.”

  He looked offended. She liked that.

  “Well, that sucks.”

  “Tell me about it.” Tired of thinking about her parents, she shook off the melancholy and smiled at him. “Tell me about your family.”

  “My dad died five years ago. It’s just my mom now, and she lives in Milwaukee.”

  She laid her hand over his. “I’m sorry, Trick.”

  “Me, too. He was a great guy. Loved hockey and always encouraged me. He put me on skates as soon as I was old enough to balance myself and I took to the ice like I’d been born there. He and I used to skate together, play hockey together, and he never missed one of my games. He either watched me on TV or he’d come to whatever games he could. I wouldn’t be where I am today without him. I miss him a lot.”

  Hearing him talk about his dad made her sad, wistful, and just a wee bit jealous that he’d had that kind of relationship with a parent. “He sounds like he was a wonderful man. You should be thankful to have had a parent like him.”

  “I am. My mom is pretty awesome, too. You’d like her. She’s funny and mouthy—like you.”

  Stella arched a brow. “You think I’m mouthy?”

  “I know you are.”

  “Huh.” She got up and brewed another cup of coffee, then made her way back over to sit beside him. “Is your mom coming out here for Christmas, or are you heading to Milwaukee?”

  “She’s actually going to my sister’s in Cleveland.”

  “So . . . you have a sister, too. How did I not know this?”

  “Because we never talked about our families before.”

  That was true. She’d never wanted to dig deep into family with Trick before. That was too personal. She wasn’t sure why she was doing it now. “Younger or older?”

  “Older. Brenna’s married to a great guy, Paul, and I have a five-year-old niece named Arabella.”

  Stella grinned. “Cute name.”

  “Yeah, she’s cute all right. She’s the princess of the family. And you’ll like this—she’s taking ballet lessons.”

  “I do like that. I’ll bet she’s adorable.”

  “She might have her uncle Trick wrapped around her little finger.”

  Stella laughed. She could well imagine that. “So you like kids.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “I love kids. Do you?”

  “Very much. Though I can’t seem to convince Greta to settle down and have any. And I can’t see myself having any in the near future.”

  He sipped his coffee. “Is that right? Why?”

  “Well, first, my career. And second, I don’t see myself settling down any time soon.”

  “I see.”

  That had been a very cryptic I see. She wondered what he meant by that, though she shouldn’t care. And they were teetering on some very precarious cliffs, topic-wise, discussing family and, good God, kids. She hadn’t even thought about having kids since . . .

  Well. Since that last disaster of a relationship, after which she’d decided she’d never have a relationship again.

  Still, she was comfortable with Trick. And that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Maybe . . . just maybe . . .

  She got up and looked around. “You need a Christmas tree.”

  “I do?”

  “Yes.” She pointed. “Over there.”

  “Okay.”

  She’d expected more of an objection. Men typically didn’t like women invading their space, making suggestions. “S
eriously?”

  “Yeah. I’ve never had one here and I figure it’s about time, so let’s go get one today. I don’t have all the bells and whistles that go with a tree, so you’ll have to help me pick all that out, too.”

  “Okay, now you’re pushing all my happy decorating buttons. Are you sure you know what you’re getting into?”

  “Probably not, but let’s do it anyway. We’ll get something to eat and then do this tree thing.”

  “You’re on.”

  Several hours later they’d made multiple stops—first to her apartment so she could change clothes, then to eat because they were hungry. After that they’d gone to the tree lot. She and Trick had chosen a perfect medium-sized tree that was to be delivered, giving them enough time to hit the store and pick out lights and tree decorations. She’d put Trick in charge of choosing a tree topper and he’d come back with a box that he refused to show her, saying it was a surprise.

  She only hoped it wasn’t a hockey player tree topper. Then again, it was his tree so she supposed he could have whatever he wanted. She was still surprised he’d gone along with the idea at all.

  They got back to his place at just the right time. They’d barely put their bags down and set up the tree stand in between the entry and living room when the doorman announced the tree delivery. Two guys brought up the tree and placed it in the stand. Trick tipped them and they were off.

  The tree looked great in the living room, and smelled so good. Like pine and Christmas. It was already an improvement to his apartment.

  After placing some water in the stand, Stella turned to Trick. “Ready to decorate?”

  “You’re in charge. Let’s do this.”

  Trick strung the lights and Stella supervised, telling him when they were off balance or where there was a gap. They worked well together, and, once the lights were up, they put the ornaments on, bumping into each other when they rounded the back of the tree.

  “No, this one should go higher up,” she said, eyeing his placement.

  “You’re crazy. There’s already a bunch up here. I’m putting it lower.”

  She shook her head. “Too clustered. And you’re putting too many in the front. We need balance.”

  “No one’s going to see the ones in the back anyway.”

  She paused to look at him. “See, everyone thinks that, but it’s not true. The back of the tree should never be sparse. Ornaments should be evenly distributed.”

  He took a step back. “I’m going to go grab something to drink and leave you in charge of finishing this up.”

  She gave him a side eye. “Is this your way of making me finish the decorating?”

  “Yup,” he said as he walked toward the kitchen. “Want some tea?”

  “That sounds good.”

  There weren’t that many ornaments left to be put on anyway, so she inspected the tree and decided where she wanted them to go and finished up, then walked back a few steps to inspect the tree from a distance, making sure there weren’t any gaps she’d missed. Satisfied, she put the lids on all the boxes.

  “Where do you want these?” she asked as Trick came back with two glasses of tea.

  He set the cups down on the table. “Let me take those. I’ll put them in the spare bedroom closet.”

  “I’ll help.”

  They put all the boxes away, then came back into the living room. Stella picked up her tea and took a couple sips. Who knew tree decorating could make her so thirsty?

  She sat on the sofa and admired the tree, then frowned. “Oh, the tree topper. We forgot that.”

  “That’s right. Let me go get it.”

  He set his cup down and went into the other room and came back with a box. “I think you’re going to like this.”

  “It’s a hockey player, isn’t it?”

  He stilled, his hands on the lid. “There are hockey player tree toppers? How did I not know this?”

  She laughed. “I don’t know if there are or not. I just figured that would be appropriate for your tree.”

  “It’s not really my tree, Stella. It’s your tree.”

  Her heart squeezed. “What?”

  “You wanted this tree. It’s for you. So’s the topper. Close your eyes.”

  “Trick.”

  He gave her a look. “Close your eyes.”

  “Fine.”

  She shut her eyes and waited. And thought. Her tree? This was his apartment, not hers. So it most definitely was not her Christmas tree.

  “You can look now.”

  She opened her eyes, and lifted her gaze to the top of the tree.

  And gasped. She set her tea down and got up, went over to the tree and tilted her head back.

  There, on his tree top, was a beautiful blonde ballerina, dressed in pink tulle, her hands in artful grace, her toes en pointe. She was twirling around in circles, with the “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” from The Nutcracker playing.

  She was mesmerized. She’d danced to this music, back when she danced ballet. The memories it evoked were thick, reminded her why she loved to dance. And the dancing angel? Breathtaking.

  “This? Really? So not a guy’s tree topper.”

  He looked up at it, then at her. “She reminds me of you with her short blonde hair and her blue eyes and that froufrou dancing outfit, even though I know that’s not what you wear. But still, I saw it and thought of you and thought she’d be perfect for the tree.”

  Her heart was crumbling at his feet. Goddamn him for doing this to her, for making her feel things she hadn’t wanted to feel for a man. Not ever again.

  Hell, she’d never felt this way about any man before.

  She lifted her gaze to his. “It’s beautiful. Thank you for thinking of me.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, that wasn’t too painful, was it?”

  He had no idea. “I guess not. Are you sure your friends won’t make fun of you when they see it?”

  He laughed. “They probably will, but I think I can take the heat.”

  She stared up at the dancing angel again. “I love her.”

  He wasn’t looking at the angel, but at her. “So do I.”

  Inhaling on a shaky breath, she said, “Well. What now?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Not to me.”

  “Now we go out and play in the snow.”

  “You are out of your ever-loving mind. It’s nice and warm in here.”

  “I know. But we had some great snow yesterday. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “My sense of adventure is here. In your warm apartment. Besides, we already went out. We chose a tree. Outside. Isn’t that enough?”

  “No.” He looked her over. “You’re dressed warm enough and you have boots on. It’ll do. Grab your coat and stuff.”

  She was not going to get out of this. “Okay, fine. But if you throw me in a snow pile, it’s over between us.”

  “Jesus, Stella, I’m not twelve.”

  Maybe she was being too harsh. Or too suspicious. More likely she just didn’t want to go out in the cold and the snow again. But Trick had been so sweet about the tree topper, she was going to be a sport about playing outside with him.

  “Fine. We’ll go.”

  “Good. And we’ll have fun.”

  “Sure we will.”

  She thought they’d grab a taxi outside. Instead, he took her hand in his and they started walking. The streets and sidewalks had been cleared, and she had to admit, the snow was pretty. It was cold, but walking kept her warm. Plus, she had her hat, gloves, and a scarf on, so it wasn’t like she was freezing or anything.

  “Where are we going, exactly?” she asked after they entered Central Park.

  He looked over at her and gave her a secretive smile. “I told you. To play.”

  With it being S
aturday, the park was filled with kids as well as adults. The bare trees were a stark landscape against the as-of-yet undisturbed pure white snow that had piled up along the rocks and hills of the park. It was a gorgeous backdrop and she wished she had thought to bring her camera with her to grab some shots. She did have her phone, though, so she stopped to take a few pictures as they strolled along. Trick even asked one of the passersby to take a photo of the two of them on one of the bridges. He’d pulled her against him, her cheek resting against his shoulder. She looked at the shot and thanked the person for taking the picture.

  It was a good photo of the two of them.

  “We look good together, don’t we?” he asked as he looked at it with her.

  “Yes, we do.” She’d left her knit cap on, but wisps of her hair peeked out and her cheeks were pink from the cold. Trick had a hat on, too, but he looked rugged and oh so handsome in his pea coat, and she looked like she belonged in his arms.

  Whatever. Just a picture. She was making too much of it. It had just been a long time since she’d had a picture of her and a guy.

  When he stopped at the ice rink, he turned to her. “Feel like a little skating?”

  She wondered if he thought she’d balk. “Sure.”

  “Do you know how to skate?”

  “Yes, I know how to skate.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the entrance. “Come on.”

  They rented skates, and without even waiting for Trick, Stella glided out onto the ice.

  She twirled around, taking in the feeling of freedom she got on the rink. It had been a couple of years since she’d been skating, and as she took a lap, she’d forgotten how much she enjoyed it. It was so much like dancing, the movement of her legs, the sense of creation she felt as she directed her skates along the ice. As she made her way back to the rink entrance, Trick came out and joined her, slipping his arm around her waist. She lifted her gaze to his and smiled, and the two of them danced around the rink, their bodies close together. Here, he wasn’t the tough hockey player. He was hers. And it wasn’t a game, it was a dance on skates. Their bodies glided effortlessly together, in tune with one another.

  “You’re good at this,” he said.

  “You seem surprised.”