Page 41 of Holiday Crush

“Coaching little kids is nice and all, but isn’t that more of a hobby or a side job? I could use a manager,” Uncle Stan had commented. “Pass the potatoes, will ya, Pen?”

I’d smiled tightly and given the same canned reply I had for weeks. “It’s temporary.”

“Temporary is a slippery slope. One day leads to one month, one year, one decade. You need a plan,” Dad advised.

“Leave him alone,” my brother chided. “We need a hockey connection. Maybe Court can get us tickets to the Slammers-Bruins game through Vinnie and Riley. Just sayin’.”

Ugh. Family.

To top it off, just before dessert, Oren and Tess announced they were engaged. Yes, I was a thousand percent happy for them. My brother and I weren’t as close as we’d been as kids, but I loved him and Tess was awesome. They had a great life in Burlington, where Tess had grown up.

One half of the table grilled them on wedding details, angling for the ceremony to happen in Elmwood, while the other half wanted to know how long I’d be staying in my childhood bedroom.

I knew no one meant any harm, but I felt like a bit of a loser.

Ivan’s text couldn’t have been better timed.

But…what the fuck?

Do you have friends in Charleston?

That’s a weird question, latte man. Of course, I have friends, I typed.

Sorry. I worded that oddly. I’m just curious about Charleston. I’ve never been and I’ve heard it’s a quaint foodie town. And…my family is driving me nuts.

Join the club.

Did your grandmother try to set you up with her podiatrist? If not, I win, Ivan countered.

You win, I replied, chuckling at my cell.

I wasn’t sure what else to add, but I didn’t want to lose this thread. I hadn’t seen him since…well, last night when I’d stopped by Rise and Grind for a post-workout herbal tea before closing time, like I had every day this week.

I wasn’t fooling either of us. But you know, I didn’t care. Ivan’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree the second I opened the door. For a guy who’d been consumed with self-doubt and freaked out over his life’s downward spiral, that smile was everything.

I forgot that I was an aging unemployed hockey player masquerading as a part-time coach. I forgot to be bummed that my phone wasn’t ringing and that I’d basically been abandoned by my sport. I forgot that being in Elmwood meant that I’d failed.

Somehow, I didn’t feel like a failure with Ivan. I felt…very fucking alive. We talked about all kinds of weird shit while he bustled around the store, preparing to close for the night.

What would you do if you found a dead body in a hotel room? What would you do if you woke up and realized you were the only person left on Earth?

I wasn’t sure how we got here, but I liked it. Ivan commanded my full attention with stream of consciousness conversational twists that made me think or laugh or just…be in the moment. With him, I was locked in and sure of myself. A setback wasn’t a loss, a change was better than a rest, and this “friends with benefits” arrangement was an unexpected gift from the universe.

I assumed that was what we were, but there was no need to assign a label. Everything in my life was temporary. I lived out of a suitcase, marking off days on the calendar.

Okay…wait. That wasn’t the whole truth. The suitcase, yes, but I didn’t spend any time wishing days away or staring at my phone anymore. I kept busy. I liked working with kids more than I thought I would, and any of my former teammates would lose their fucking minds to skate with a couple of NHL greats, let alone get daily pointers from them.

But the best part was that at the end of the day, I had somewhere to go, and someone waiting for me.

I had Ivan, this sunny-faced latte man who made my pulse skyrocket and my dick twitch without my permission. I was hooked on him. And every time he hit me with that radiant ear-to-ear grin, I felt something settle inside me.

And yeah…the sex was unbelievable.

Look, I’d embraced my bi side a long time ago and in some ways, I felt more evolved than my straight friends. Being bi wasn’t a menu choice, it was about connection. For whatever reason, Ivan and I clicked. He made me laugh, he made me think, and yeah…he was hot as fuck.

He was lean and pretty with sinewy lines, sharp edges, soft lips, and a voracious sexual appetite. Ivan might chatter about the perfect espresso, his latte art issues, and the town council being unseasonably behind with holiday decorations while wiping down the counter or kicking leaves on Main Street on the walk to his house, but the second the door closed, he was all over me. And I fucking loved it.

We’d make out, shrugging off jackets and stripping out of our clothes as fast as humanly possible. Just kissing him was a wild aphrodisiac. He was so sensual, so responsive to my touch. The press of lips on his neck and my finger at his entrance sparked a tsunami of need…in both of us. We’d scramble upstairs, undressing along the way and sighing in relief at the feel of skin on skin. We were rabid for each other, fucking like animals in heat, sucking, licking, biting, and doing our best to crawl inside each other.