Page 22 of You Make It Feel like Christmas

N ICK HOVERED AT THE edge of the stage, his fingers curled into tight fists.

Self-talk, breathing in a goddamn square.

He was a professional athlete; he worked with trainers and other pros.

And, standing still, his heart raced like he’d run up a mountain with cement blocks on his feet.

The air had a bite to it but he couldn’t feel it, even in just his thick, long-sleeve shirt.

What the hell was he thinking, agreeing to this?

That it shouldn’t be a big deal. It wouldn’t be, as long as the focus stayed on the event and not the typical barrage of questions like, “What’s next for you?

” “Is this injury the start of the end?” “What really happened when you lost your temper?”

He would have thought it impossible for the town of Merry to be any more decorated than it was but, just two days until Christmas, the downtown core proved him wrong.

The stage where he was supposed to give his celebrity nod to his favorite holiday dessert was dressed to look like Santa’s workshop.

Asher’s eyes had nearly bounced out of their sockets when he’d seen it.

A variety of toys and presents were staged on a couple of large workbenches.

A blow-up snowman waved his arm in one corner.

The backdrop behind them was plywood, cut and painted to resemble a gingerbread house, complete with a door that opened.

Merry didn’t mess around about Christmas.

There were hundreds of people milling about in front of the stage, waiting for the event to begin. The energy rippling through the crowd was akin to a puck drop. Maisie’s family stood up front with Colt, Ellie, and Asher. Nick peered around the edge, trying to see if Maisie was with them yet.

She’d brought her camera and almost immediately began taking shots of things only she could see.

To him, it was just a crowd of people, but he knew from looking at her website and through her online portfolio she didn’t see things like the rest of them did.

She saw beauty instead of chaos, heartache through humor, moments that could be captured in the mundane.

Maybe that’s why he felt like she could see him differently.

Like there was something more to him than how he viewed himself.

He was grateful she could do that given their history.

Even more grateful that she was giving them a chance.

“Psst.”

He heard the telltale click of the camera shutter and knew it was her even before he turned to stare into her lens.

“Careful you don’t smile,” she said, continuing to shoot.

“If you keep taking pictures of me, it’s going to be my turn,” he teased, his shoulders relaxing.

Maisie lowered the camera and Nick did his best to focus on her face, the kindness in her knowing gaze, rather than the phones lifted and pointed his way.

This might be a bad idea, asking for an untamed circus when that’s what he tried to avoid, but everyone else thought it was great.

His publicist had been texting all morning.

He wasn’t sure how she found out but since that was her job, he didn’t question it.

She told him this was exactly the lighthearted vibe he needed to present right now.

It would do wonders for his image and hopefully shift some of the chatter from whether or not he was coming back to the ice.

Maisie stepped closer to him. “You good?”

He pulled in a deep breath that was all Maisie. “If I have to eat fruit cake, I won’t be.”

She smiled and it turned a key inside him. Unlocked something he was a master at keeping locked tight. Except with her. “That’s absolutely fair. You put chocolate chips in cake. Not weird fruit blobs.”

His lips twitched. Fuck, he liked her. “Blobs?”

Maisie shrugged. “I’m not a chef. I don’t know the actual name of them.”

Nick wanted to pull her against his body and kiss her until neither of them could remember where they were, but he could see, from the corner of his eye, people watching them with curiosity, including her family and his own.

His phone continued to buzz in his pocket. Could be his publicist again, his manager, agent, a media outlet. Could be anyone, but the only person he felt like talking to was standing in front of him wearing a puffy white coat and a pale-pink hat pulled down over her ears.

“Didn’t you spend this morning making cookies you’re going to force us to decorate?” He leaned in more than he should, catching a hint of her intoxicating, lightly floral scent.

“Let. Not force. Let. That in no way makes me a chef. Just a person who can listen to a recipe. Also, just because you’re a sore winner doesn’t mean you have to be a sore loser. Keep that in mind for later.”

Before he could respond, Hester appeared at his side like one of Santa’s minions.

“Ready, pretty boy?” Her lips twitched.

Shock dropped Nick’s mouth open. The town had accepted Ellie as one of their own so, by extension, maybe he was one of them too.

Enough so that Hester clearly wasn’t worried about teasing him.

Why did that feel good? Still, he narrowed his gaze, trying to keep his own grin locked down. “I guess so.”

Maisie laughed and took another photo. Hester smiled for it and when she pushed her arm through his, Nick gave in and smiled as well.

Earlier, he was introduced to the other two judges: Clara, a local shop owner, and Micha, who worked for the radio station in the next county over. They came through the gingerbread door and joined Hester and Nick.

Hester took the mic, quieted the crowd. “Welcome to the thirty-third annual winter solstice celebration. We’ve got activities happening all day and tonight, there’s a movie in the park.

We appreciate everyone’s donations and couldn’t do this without all of your support.

I’d like to introduce three special guests who will judge the six desserts that made it to the finals. ”

Nick made a mental note to give a donation. Cameras flashed and Nick felt the first flash of tightening in his chest.

“And of course, our sweet David Rose still has a bellyache but I’m very excited to share that we have a real G.O.A.T.

,” Hester looked at Nick, who smiled, did his best to stay in the moment.

“I get it now.” She looked back at the crowd.

“A true hockey legend who happens to be the brother of our newest resident, Ellie Kingston, who you all may know has taken over Tickle Tree Farms. She and her son, Asher, have been here for a few months now and we’re glad to have them in our community. Now, that includes you, Mr. Kingston.”

Hmm. It’d been a long time since he was anyone other than Nick King.

Being just Ellie’s brother and Asher’s uncle carried a lot less weight and untied the knots in his chest. There was something humbling, and somehow refreshing, that his hockey player status wasn’t his only draw.

In this town, a G.O.A.T. was an actual goat.

Whether that realization took the edge off or his self-preservation kicked in and he zoned out, Nick fell into the moment and surprisingly, the desserts were pretty freaking spectacular.

He followed the other judges’ actions, did what Hester told him, listened to the crowd banter back and forth while holiday music hummed in the air.

“Last up, we have the three-layer modern take on fruitcake. This one is a chocolate crust with a layer of strawberry jam, followed by a vanilla sponge cake, a layer of raspberry coulis, topped off with a lemon-glazed sugar cookie,” Hester said, reading the card.

Each of the judges took a taste and Nick couldn’t help the moan that slipped out. This was a fruit cake he could get behind.

“Holy shit, this is good,” he said as Hester stuck a microphone in his face.

The crowd erupted in laughter and Nick felt his cheeks heat. Even as his pulse clicked up several notches, he found his sister’s face, Asher’s, and then Maisie’s. She grinned at him just as Asher waved and called his name.

Once the triple-layer cake was declared the winner, Nick tried to extricate himself as quickly as possible but ended up posing for several photos with the winner, the mayor, the judges, some all together, then fans started circling.

He stumbled over a cord in his effort to get away from the stage.

People kept saying his name until it sounded far away and somewhat tinny.

He was fine. He kept telling himself that, but it got harder to believe as he worked his way through the crowd.

Nick tried to smile, felt pens being pushed into his hand and he scribbled his name like it was muscle memory to do so.

He’d walk three steps until someone grabbed his arm and posed for a photo.

Sweat pooled at the nape of his neck. He’d been in crowds bigger than this, wilder than this.

But knowing that didn’t make the pressure building in his chest loosen right this minute.

You were fine a minute ago. Just breathe.

And then Maisie appeared in front of him and Colton and Jacob flanked his sides.

The two guys were smaller than Nick but both were still wide-shouldered and tall.

They took up space; had presence. And their positioning at his sides, Maisie’s at his front, buffered him.

Protected him. And stole a piece of his heart.

She stood there, looking up at him and crooked her finger.

He leaned down, worried he’d sound like he was panting or hyperventilating but she didn’t seem to care.

She pushed up to her tiptoes even as he met her halfway and then ran her nose along his jaw until her lips were at his ear.

Her hands squeezed at his waist, digging through the thick shirt he’d worn.

“What’s your middle name?” she whispered.

He wasn’t sure he heard her right. “What?”

Her fingers dug in more and he was sure she’d leave a mark. “Your middle name, Nick. What is it?”

“Carter.”