“Please. I’m scary as fuck.”
“Sure thing, Elsa.”
Looking back at the giant Doberman sleeping in my arms, I can’t help but wonder who the hell wouldn’t want this dog and why the fuck she’s at a shelter. She’s perfect.
“Hey, Zanders?”
“Hmm?”
“That’s what it feels like to be loved.”
21
STEVIE
I only had a few quick work trips between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Those were spent avoiding the exit row as much as possible and locking myself in my hotel room in an attempt to avoid Evan Zanders. Spending time with him isn’t the problem per se, but every time I’m around him, I feel like a dog in heat, wanting to jump his bones.
Somehow though, I successfully evaded him.
However, if I would’ve seen Zanders at the shelter with Rosie before those works trips, I’d be telling a different story. That day last week, seeing him around all my favorite pups, I had never been more attracted to him than I was at that moment.
And for the second time since I’ve known him, my attraction had nothing to do with the way he looks and everything to do with the sliver of his heart he showed.
“Vee, you ready to go?” My dad’s voice pulls me out of my daydream.
Looking around the family box at the United Center, I hadn’t noticed that the previously crowded space had essentially cleared out in the final minutes of the game. The Devils are about to pull off a dominant home win, and I’m sure most family members are eager to see their players outside of the locker room on this Christmas Day.
Slinging my cross-body bag over my shoulder, I follow my dad out of the suite and down the hall to the locker room’s private back entrance for family members. My mom is at least ten feet ahead of us, eager to see her beloved son, but I’m trying to ignore the fact she’s never been that excited to see me.
It’s been years since I spent Christmas with my family. It’s a basketball holiday, so when I was flying for the NBA, I was on the road, my work being the perfect excuse to avoid a get-together with my mother. But the NHL takes the day off, so here I am.
“Do you know any of these guys?” My dad wraps his arm over my shoulders as we walk down the long private hallway in the United Center, the walls plastered with photos of the two professional sports teams who play in this building—the Devils and the Raptors.
“Some of them.”
My dad stops us in front of this year’s team photo. “Who is that?” He points to the curly-haired, green-eyed goofball.
“That’s Rio,” I laugh. “He’s kind of like the class clown. He’s a defenseman, and he carries this old school 90s boom box around with him everywhere he goes.”
“And this one?” He points to number thirteen.
“That’s Maddison. Team captain. Star forward and really nice guy. His family lives a few floors above Ryan, actually.”
“And him?”
My dad’s finger taps on the one player I’m trying not to look at. In fact, I’ve tried to avoid looking at him all day, but as the alternate captain, his face is plastered all over this arena. Not that he minds. Knowing Zanders, he probably volunteered for the photoshoot.
Clearing my throat, I pull my gaze away from number eleven. “That’s Evan Zanders.”
“Well, what’s he like?”
“Arrogant. Show-off. In love with himself. Takes more time getting ready than most women. Gets in a lot of fights on the ice.”
Loves his niece. Softer than he lets people know. Makes me feel good in more ways than one.
“Mm-hmm, I see.”
“See what?”
“You like him.”
“No, I don’t.” Snapping my head around, my dad looks down at me with a knowing smile. “I can’t stand him, actually.”
A deep laugh rumbles in his chest. “Vee, I love you, but you’re a terrible liar. You have a crush.”
“I do not have a crush. I work for him.” Which is something I’ve been trying to remind myself for weeks now, ever since that night we hooked up in DC.
“Okay.” My dad lets it go with that, but the slight smirk he wears as we continue our walk to Ryan’s locker room tells me that he doesn’t buy my lie.
“Ryan!” my mother squeals as my sweaty twin brother comes walking into the family waiting room. She’s far too excited, acting as if she didn’t already see him this Christmas morning.
“Hey, Mom.” He squeezes her in a hug, my mother’s face lit up and beaming, the way it usually is when my brother is involved. He’s her pride and joy, and I’m, well…I’m here.