Page 53 of Goalie Secrets

“Ho, ho, ho! I have healing snow from the North Pole!”

Santa Claus lumbers over with a ziplock bag of crushed ice. Everyone cheers. Ethan’s eyes light up at the attention. He continues to stare at Santa while I show his mother how to wrap the ice bag with gauze to keep from giving her son frostbite.

“Say thank you to the doctor, Ethan,” his mother reminds him.

Instead of speaking, he wraps his skinny, unbandaged arm around my neck for a quick squeeze. I’m smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. And then he’s gone, running to show off his new bandage and brag about snow from the North Pole.

Once on my feet, I’m met with hugs and pats on the back. It’s embarrassing to be thanked for something so menial. I do my best to stave off the unearned praise.

“I’m going to put the emergency bag back,” I state to no one in particular. As if I know where medical supplies are kept in a community center.

Before I can pick up the kit, a thick red arm reaches over and beats me to it.

“Oh, thank you, Santa.”

“You’re welcome, doc.”

The voice might as well be a serum of caffeine in my veins. I’m immediately hyperalert, my eyes bugging out to meet familiar brown eyes. I gasp. Jeremy takes a finger to his lips to quiet me.

“Let me show you where this goes,” he states.

“But the kids,” I object, checking his throne to find an elf erecting a “back in fifteen minutes” sign.

I let myself be guided to a door behind the Santa setup. It leads to a quiet hallway that connects to a locker room. We enter and he closes the door behind him. Then, in the middle of a dimly lit and antiseptic smelling room, Santa whips off his beard to unmask the hot goaltender beneath.

“Agh, it’s so itchy,” he says with a chuckle and a few rough scrapes of his knuckles over a chiseled jaw.

“I’m one hundred percent loving this look on you,” I tease.

He removes the thick jacket to reveal suspenders on top of a stretchy white shirt. It’s so ridiculous to see a young, gorgeous man in his prime with whisps of white hair stuck on his chin and a clownishly exaggerated belly leaning on one side. He pulls it over and jiggles his torso to center the Santa stomach.

“Get your fill now, Vanya. I have one more thirty-minute shift before this goes straight to the dry cleaner and then the back of a closet till next year.” He scratches his chin roughly. “So damn itchy.”

“It’s because some of the beard wig is stuck on your stubble.” I reach over to pick on a few offending strands. This brings me right up to his protruding stomach. Our bodies aren’t touching but my fingers burn with the desire to do more than graze his chin.

“All good,” I say and step back.

“I’m glad you came. Almost as glad as Ethan.”

“He was sweet. His mother could have done what I did. The real treat for him was the North Pole snow.”

Jeremy chuckles. “That improv move was golden, if I say so myself.”

“We should take our show on the road.”

“Maybe. You’ll have to wear a Mrs. Claus costume so we match.”

“In your dreams, Lopez.”

“Actually, in my dreams you’d be wearing something else.”

My mouth opens as I feign insult at his words. Although, existing in Jeremy’s dreams seems fair. He’s always infiltrating my thoughts, after all.

“What? I meant your lab coat. Get your mind out of the gutter, doc.”

I laugh like a giddy fool, even if the jab was at my expense.

Maybe because his thick hair is flopping over those perfect eyebrows, or maybe because his suspenders are charmingly appealing, or maybe because the Christmas spirit is a mind-altering drug…I don’t know. But a powerful urge to touch him takes over. I place my hands on his shoulders to hook them under each suspender.