Last Chance Christmas by Joanne Rock

scrubbed clean and her long red hair caught in a tie near her shoulder so the ends trailed down one arm. She wore one of his old hockey sweaters and a pair of sweats, the kind of thing she used to wear at the rink when she still played. She might have mixed feelings about the sport, but her game had an intensity to match guys he’d competed with professionally. Her determination and drive matched her father’s, a quirk of genetics that had put the two of them at odds for years on end.
    “I can’t take credit for that, actually.” He slid eggs on a plate that he’d made and then opened the oven to remove a pan of rolls. “I picked up some sweet breads from the bakery this morning and I heated them up.”
    Drawn to the pan, she leaned over the tray to inhale as he set it down on a trivet on the table.
    “They all look so good.” She pointed to a round stack at one end. “Are those crepes?”
    “I got some of everything since I wasn’t sure what you’d like.” He held out a chair for her, trying to resist an urge to bury his face in her hair as she lowered herself to the seat. Once he had her settled, he turned to the fridge and dug out raspberries, honey, and sliced apples. “It’s the holidays, right? We’re entitled.”
    “Wow.” She peered up at him, gray eyes alight with something that looked like genuine happiness. A lightness of spirit he hadn’t seen in her at all the night before. “Did I mention I can be won with food? We’re going to make peace in no time.”
    He took the seat across a corner from her and poured them both water from a pitcher.
    “Awesome. I like being on the fast track to my goals.” He dished up eggs, crepes, and fruit onto his plate while she fixed her coffee. “But that brings to mind a whole host of other items on today’s agenda after making peace.”
    Her gray eyes narrowed while she stirred in sugar. “I’m not sure you can put peacemaking on a timetable. But I’m listening.”
    “We still need to settle some debates from last night,” he reminded her.
    “I refuse to ruin crepes with discussions of chemistry.” She turned her attention to the food, stacking apples on her crepe.
    “That one was at the top of my list, too.” He ate with relish. Food tasted better than it had in weeks, and he knew it had to do with the company.
    Or maybe he was just experiencing a new brand of hunger.
    “We were friends out of common interests.” She drizzled honey on the apples and carefully rolled the crepe up. “You were a staple in my house, and you were born with a better wrist shot than I’ve ever seen on a defenseman. Of course you were going to turn my head. That’s not chemistry. That’s timing.”
    She took a bite of her crepe and closed her eyes, abandoning herself to the mix of flavors while he tried to decide if she was winding him up on purpose.
    “Are you baiting me?” He asked quietly, everything in him going still as his gaze caught on her closed eyelids.
    Her full lips as she chewed.
    Opening her eyes, she gave him an assessing look. “Think of us like a good line in hockey. We were there for each other, anticipating passes and hitting the gaps. On paper, we made a decent enough pairing. But in the execution…” She shook her head and licked a speck of honey off her thumb. “We just didn’t produce.”
    His heart slugged hard while his brain thought through her words. Her actions. He didn’t want to read her wrong.
    But she’d just licked honey off her thumb. And he wanted a taste of her more than he wanted his next breath.
    “No. Chemistry.” She underscored the words with a delicate shrug of her shoulders. A move that sent the too-big hockey sweater drifting perilously close to the edge of her shoulder.
    Damn straight she was baiting him.
    “It’s on.” He gave her about two seconds’ warning before he reached for the edge of her chair and dragged her chair as close to him as it would go.
    She gave a yelp as she reached for him, holding