Page 56 of Goalie Secrets

“Vanya, I’ll go out there to wrap this up, but we’re not done.”

I’m deadly serious. If she thinks this is a one-off like that night in the basement, she is sorely mistaken.

“I know, Jeremy,” she sighs tenderly. “Now be a good Santa and meet me at the books when you’re finished.”

She exits the locker room, leaving behind a lingering herbal aroma and the memory of her mouth around my cock. Fuck, that was incredible. The thought surges blood south because I want her again.

I have the genius idea that the sooner I get this done, the sooner I can be alone with her. The sooner I finish the shift, the sooner I can smell her hair and nap on her breasts and lick her skin.

Fixing, realigning, and smoothing down the costume takes me less than two minutes when I’m this motivated.

Once reestablished on my silly Santa throne, I try to focus on the kids and their posing families. Everyone is a little high on sugar, I think, so they’re as restless as I am.

But it isn’t holiday cookies that has my body buzzing. It’s the woman across the gym, organizing books and helping kids pick a few to bring home. Without her lab jacket and iPad, without the barrier of all the rules she’s scared of breaking, without the heavy mantle of responsibility, Vanya shows a new dimension of herself.

I love each version of her, but this one enchants me. She’s light on her feet and quick with her laughter. There’s not much interest in extending conversations with other adults, but the kids are a different story. Delight emanates from Vanya when a kid holds her hand or hugs a book. One of them must have asked her to read together because she pulls up two chairs and lowers her head so she can be heard despite the incessant buzz of people winding down the Christmas gathering.

“Are you trying to communicate telepathically or just admiring from afar?” Ursula quips. She’s the teenager who logs volunteer hours by playing an elf every Christmas.

“Huh?”

“The doctor who fixed the kid’s wrist. At this rate, you’re either going to end up with a date or a restraining order.”

If she only knew.

“Thanks, Ursula, for your stellar observations,” I utter sarcastically. “I’ll get out of this itchy costume then help clean up.”

When I’m finally changed, I don’t get the chance to help Ursula. Adults and kids swarm me for autographs and hockey talk. It’s only when the ushers start leading families out of the gym that I get a chance to find Vanya. I indulge in a glance ather pear-shaped hips and rounded backside. Grabbing her from behind in front of a gym full of people would be a terrible idea. That doesn’t stop me fromwantingto, though.

She’s folding up boxes for recycling, because most of the books were claimed. Her smile, when I approach her, is pure sunshine.

“Are you ready to—”

“Vanya! Thank you so much!” my mother gushes. I love my mom to death, but she doesn’t always have the best timing. “Merry Christmas, dear. Did you have fun?”

“It was the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” Vanya answers. Her sincerity is palpable, like it’s not a polite expression but a reluctant admission.

“Good! I’m going to Rose and Ken’s to relax and grab a drink. Do you want to join us?”

“We’ve got plans,” I state while leaning down to give my mom a kiss on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Mom. Don’t wait up for me, OK?”

“Ha! I haven’t done that in years.” She pats my cheek affectionately. “Have fun. And Vanya?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for everything you’re doing to help diagnose and treat Jeremy’s condition. I thought Kyle was a blessing, and he is! But you, my dear, are a miracle.”

“Mom—”

“Let me finish. It’s important to give praise when it’s deserved.”

Vanya blanches but my mother doesn’t notice.

“As a woman in the field of medicine, you probably have to work ten times harder than most men. And heaven knows dealing with demanding hockey players can’t be easy.”

She pauses before saying the worst cock-blocking, buzz-killing sentence imaginable.

“Thank you, Vanya, for being the best doctor Jeremy could have.”