The Christmas Stallions Read online

  The Christmas Stallions

  Frances Everly

  Copyright © [2022] by [Frances Everly]

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  Contents

  1. Ryker

  2. Emma

  3. Ryker

  4. Emma

  5. Emma

  6. Ryker

  7. Emma

  8. Emma

  9. Ryker

  10. Emma

  11. Ryker

  12. Emma

  13. Ryker

  14. Emma

  15. Ryker

  16. Emma

  17. Emma

  18. Ryker

  19. Emma

  20. Emma

  21. Ryker

  22. Emma

  23. Ryker

  24. Emma

  25. Ryker

  26. Emma

  Epilogue

  About The Author

  Also By Frances Everly

  Fullpage Image

  Wishing On Snowflakes

  Wishing on Snowflakes Prologue

  Wishing on Snowflakes Chapter One

  Wishing on Snowflakes Chapter Two

  Wishing on Snowflakes Chapter Three

  Chapter one

  Ryker

  “Jones!” Coach shouted as I passed his office on my way to the locker room.

  “Uh oh, looks like someone’s about to get in trouble,” Greg, the team’s centre and my best friend teased. “What did you do this time?”

  I shrugged.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m as innocent as the pure, driven snow,” I joked.

  Everyone knew I was the furthest thing from innocence. I was always pulling crazy stunts, and Greg had even helped with a few since they had traded us to the same team last year. New York didn’t like cowboys, so they traded me to Montana for a player that could follow orders. I was happy to oblige them when I heard that Greg was also being traded to the Stallions. We’d grown up playing hockey together in Sweetwater, Montana, and were as thick as thieves in high school. So naturally, playing on the same Professional Hockey League team was a dream come true.

  “Jones!” Coach Germano shouted, louder this time. “In my office. Now!”

  “Man, what did you do?” Greg whispered, his face blanching this time. By the sound of Coach’s voice, it was serious.

  “I have no idea,” I replied. “I’m not sure I want to find out.”

  “It’s about time,” Coach grumbled. He was a burly man with thick black hair and a middle-aged waistline. His meaty arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against his desk, staring at the board with the latest plays outlined on them. The coach was an old-fashioned man who liked to have hard copies of all his plays. He didn’t trust technology that could easily get hacked or crash at a moment’s notice.

  “What’s up, Coach?” I asked, trying to sound more confident than I felt about the situation.

  “It’s been brought to my attention that you’ve been up to those pranks of yours again,” he turned his attention to stare straight at me with icy blue eyes that I swear could see clear through to my soul. It was unnerving to be on the wrong side of that gaze. Maybe that’s part of what made him such an excellent coach. He had a reputation for rehabilitating troubled players, not that I was one. I didn’t do drugs or drink excessively. But I did like a good prank.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the blood drained from my face. How could he know it was me? Did someone tattle on me about the saran wrap in the showers? Or the water in the sticks?

  “You don’t huh?” Coach arched a pointed brow. He had a way of making me feel like a kid in a minor league again. I hated that feeling.

  “No sir,” I replied, still hoping against all odds that he wasn’t about to hand me my walking papers.

  Instead, he slapped a newspaper down on his desk and pointed to it. I reached for it, curious about what it said, and unfolded the page he’d left it open to. The headline read, “Former Patriot’s player, Ryker Jones, greets ex-teammates with epic hotel prank.” I gulped and side-eyed the door.

  “Since you like being a joker, I have the perfect joke for you, Jones. You’re out of the next game,” Coach moved away from his desk to sit in his chair behind it.

  “But coach! You can’t bench me. We’re playing New York tomorrow. I have to be in that game,” I begged. It was no secret that I hated my old team. I’d been looking forward to playing against them since they traded me.

  “You’re out, Jones. It’s not up for debate! And you won’t be lacing up with the team either,” Coach said. This was it. This is where he fired me. Sweat rolled down my face in waves, or maybe it was fear. I’m not sure, but hockey was my life. I couldn’t lose it. Not now. Not when it was the only thing I had left.

  “Please don’t do this, Coach,” I whispered.

  “Oh, you’d better believe I’m doing it,” he replied, reaching under his desk to pull out a giant garment bag. “And I’ve been waiting months for this.”

  “What-?”

  “Our mascot, Andre, fell in the stands and tore a ligament in his ankle at the last game. Guess who’s going to be parading through the stands when we play New York?” His face stretched into an evil grin. He couldn’t be serious? He wanted me to work the fans up as the team’s mascot instead of playing on the ice. What kind of joke was this?

  “Did Greg put you up to this?” I asked, convinced that he was pranking me.

  “Consider it good PR for the stunt you pulled,” Coach handed me the bag, and I stared at it, my eyes wide with disbelief. “Now get out of my office.”

  “But Coach-.”

  “I said we’re done here, Jones. And don’t bother calling your agent about this. I already did it for you.” He picked up the phone and began dialling. I stared at him and back down to the bag, open-mouthed in astonishment. He couldn’t be serious. Come the night of the game, Coach was probably going to have me skate around the ice before the game or something looking ridiculous in the hockey-playing horse costume with its black and gold mane. Then he’d either bench me for the rest of the game or make me do a dozen drills after it was finished. Right?

  “Did you forget how to open the door?” Coach asked with his hand over the receiver.

  “No, sir,” I replied, shaking my head to clear it. I took the bag and headed out of the office and back down the hall to the now mostly empty locker room. Greg had thankfully waited behind and was busy playing some game he was obsessed with on his phone. When he saw me enter, he quickly set it down.

  “So… what did coach want? Did he fire you?” He asked, cautiously.

  I shook my head.

  “No…. No, he didn’t fire me,” I replied, still in disbelief. “He demoted me.”

  “Demoted you? To what, second string?” He asked, eyeing the bag in my hand.

  “To mascot.”

  Greg gaped at me, reminding me of a goldfish. A moment later, he was howling with laughter so hard that he fell off the bench and crashed into his locker behind it.

  “You’re kidding?” He laughed. “Nope. And it’s not funny,” I growled, shoving the bag into my locker. I grabbed my gear and headed for the door.

  “Wait. So you’re telling me that coach is making you the team mascot, and you don’t see how funny that is?” Greg called out. He grabbed his stuff and caught up to me as I headed to the parking lot.

  “Not funny at all, man,” I said. “I thought he was going to fire me for sure.”

  “Who knew the old man had a sense of humour?” Greg chuckled. “What did you do this time?”

  “If you really want to know, check out the sports section in today’s paper,” I replied, slamming my trunk closed and climbing into my BMW.

  “Come on, you can’t tell me?” He asked.

  I shook my head and backed out of my parking space with squealing tires. The faster I got out of this place, the better. I couldn’t put this week behind me fast enough.

  Chapter two

  Emma

  “Are you sure about this?” I asked for the thousandth time as I eyed my best friend in the mirror. She grinned and winked back at me, her green eyes twinkling as she struggled to hold back a laugh.

  “You haven’t been on a date in months, Emma,” Melody admonished, pausing to tuck a stray piece of short red hair back into her headband. “Besides, you agreed to this blind date. You can’t back out now. He’ll be here any minute.”

  “You’re right,” I sighed, smoothing a hand down the front of the little black dress I’d borrowed from her. It was skin-tight and hugged my every curve while still allowing me a small modicum of modesty. I’d chosen it specifically because it covered my cleavage better than every other dress Melody had insisted I try on the minute she’d found out about my blind date.

  “And it would be an absolute crime not to show off those legs. I think my dress actually looks better on you than it does on me!” Melody twisted up one last strand of my blonde hair into a classy French twist and shoved a bobby pin in to hold it all together. I was a couple of inches taller than Melody, so her dresses always showed off more leg when I wore them, which I didn’t often do but tonight she’d insisted and I was too weak to say no. “Do you know where he’s taking you?”

  “Not a clue. He insisted it was a surprise.” I took one last assessing glance in the mirror. Wis
ps of curls framed my oval face, and my blue eyes popped beneath the thick fringe of black eyelashes. Waterproof mascara was a godsend. Satisfied that nothing was out of place, I slid my feet into my favourite black heels and grabbed my clutch from the bed. “I hope I’m not overdressed.”

  “That’s what’s so great about black dresses. It’s perfect for just about everything. Relax already,” she urged as she plopped down on a corner of the bed. “You look great. You’re going to have a blast. And maybe you’ll get another date out of this guy. Who knows? He might be mister right.”

  “Or he might be mister wrong! What if the entire date’s a disaster, Mel? I’ll have to get a new hairdresser! What was I thinking, letting my hairdresser set me up on a blind date with her nephew?”

  “You seriously need to take it down a notch, Emma. It’s one date. Maria will get over it if it doesn’t work out with Devon. You guys aren’t getting married or anything.” The doorbell rang before Emma could reply. “Have fun. You deserve it. And if he’s a creep, text me. I promise to rescue you.”

  “Thank you, Mel.” I took a deep breath and headed out of the room as the doorbell rang again.

  “Any time,” she replied as she followed me down the stairs. “Remember, have fun.”

  “Right. How can I forget?” I glanced back at her as we stepped into the front foyer.

  I took a deep breath and grasped the handle in my hand. A chill swept through the room, the wind blowing in snowflakes and a very handsome man with dark brown hair trimmed short. He wore jeans and a black and gold jersey. My heart instantly sank, along with my expectations.

  “Wow, you look incredible.” He looked me up and down, and I shared a gag with Melody when he wasn’t looking.

  “And you look… nice.” There was a fake smile on my face. “Sorry. I didn’t realize we were going somewhere casual. I’ll run upstairs and change.”

  “No need. You look great. And we’re running a little late. The game’s going to start soon,” he replied. “We should get going.”

  “The game?” I gulped.

  The only game playing tonight was my brother’s, and I was not eager to attend it in a dress and heels. He was going to tease me mercilessly if he caught me attending his game looking like this. I silently prayed that I was wrong and there was some other game playing tonight, even if it was the middle of December.

  “The hockey game. I go to all the games when the Stallions are home. Didn’t my aunt tell you?” I shook my head. This night was already looking downhill. I made a mental note to trust my instincts next time and cancel the date if I wasn’t comfortable with it.

  “Sorry bout that. I thought she’d have said something.” He at least had the decency to look apologetic as he scratched the back of his neck. “We can do something else if you want….”

  “No,” I sighed. At least if the night got any worse, I could catch a ride home with my brother when the game was over. “It’s fine. Let’s go.”

  I grabbed my coat off the hook by the door and hugged Melody on the way out. Chuckling softly in response to her whispered reminder to text her if I needed a rescue. The night was colder than I had expected and I shivered, pulling my coat tighter around my body as we headed out to his car. The SUV was black with tinted windows. Inside, it was thankfully still warm, and I relaxed into the buttery soft leather seats. I barely had time to click my seatbelt in before Devon peeled out of the driveway with a squeal of tires and took off towards the Yellowstone Stadium. I held on to the door handles and squeezed my eyes closed. Was this how I was going to die? If I made it to the rink alive, I was definitely going to swallow my pride and beg Greg for a ride home. There was no way I was getting back in that car with a maniac behind the wheel.

  “So,” Devon’s voice carried over the booming base of the radio, and I cautiously opened one eye. “My aunt tells me you’re a wedding planner?”

  “No, not exactly,” I replied, grateful that we’d arrived in one piece. “I host weddings and all kinds of events at the Serenity Gardens. We’ve even hosted a murder mystery.”

  “Sounds like fun,” he replied, already climbing out the driver’s side.

  I waited a moment to see if he would open the door for me, but it quickly turned out that I was going to be chasing him all night if I didn’t open that door myself. Not that I usually had a problem with opening my own doors. I wanted to see what he would do, and he disappointed me. I pushed open my door and quickly rounded the car to catch up to him. The last thing I needed tonight was to break my ankle in these heels, trying to chase him down in the parking lot. I held little hope that the rest of the night was going to be any better.

  “What is it you do again?” I asked. “Maria mentioned something about sports?”

  “Yeah, I’m a reporter for SNN,” he replied as he handed our tickets over to be scanned. Silence fell between us again as the game began. Between the shouting fans and the music, I was grateful for the reprieve from attempting small talk and allowed myself to get lost in the game. Before I knew it, it was the first interval. Devon rose from his seat and disappeared, returning a couple of minutes later with a giant beer in his hand and nothing for me. He may as well have a giant red flag waving over his head. I opened up my phone and started searching for a new hairdresser.

  The puck dropped, and the second period was in full swing. I slipped my phone back into my purse and watched number forty-two pass it to another player. Where was number fifty-seven? Greg always played with his best friend, Ryker Jones. I frowned, wondering if he’d gotten hurt. Greg would have mentioned it if he had, but they hadn’t talked in a couple of days, so it’s entirely possible that he wouldn’t call unless it was a serious injury. I ignored the wave of relief that rushed through me with that thought. Glancing down at the box, I read every jersey and sure enough, Ryker wasn’t playing tonight. How strange. New York stole the puck, and I was once again sucked into the game. About halfway through the second period, Devon’s phone beeped, and he hurriedly replied to the messages, tapping away furiously. I rolled my eyes and waved to a passing vendor selling bottled water. I handed her a bill and gratefully gulped half the bottle as the Helena Stallions valiantly fought to regain control of the game.

  Greg stole the puck and was darting across the ice in a flash that had the fans up in their seats cheering him on. It was total chaos, but it was the best kind. He lined up with the net, pulled his arm back and one of the New York players snuck around him and stole the puck back again. My big brother hit nothing but ice. He recovered quickly and skated after O’Reilly, catching up to him and slamming him into the boards. A whistle rang loud and clear through the arena and a referee in his white and black striped shirt skated over to break up the melee.

  I glanced over at my date, who was still typing away furiously on his phone. What was his deal, anyway? He brought me here to the game because he had season tickets, and claimed to be a huge fan of the Stallions. I suspected he wasn’t as big of a fan as he claimed to be. Who spends an entire game, completely oblivious to the raucous cheers and loud music, on their phone? Especially when said person was on a date with the little sister of one of the players. It made no sense. Unless he really was as dumb as he looked and didn’t put two and two together when he heard my last name. Boy, was he going to be in for a surprise when I ditched him for a ride home with Greg after the game. A pang of remorse stabbed me in the gut. Normally I wouldn’t ditch a date, even if it was going badly. I preferred to end things politely and catch a cab home. But did this qualify as a date? He brought me to my brother’s game and ignored me the entire time we’ve been here. And the drive from my place was a terrifying experience I’d rather not relive. Given how little attention he’s sent my way, Devon probably wouldn’t even remember having brought me here, anyway.

  A horn blared, making me jump and spill some of my water. I blotted furiously at the wet spot on my dress with a napkin. Was it really only the end of the second period? I groaned internally. This was already the longest night of my life. At least there’s always the kiss cam. That was always great fun to watch. You never knew what was going to happen. Would the couple kiss? Were they even a couple? My favourite was when a man got down on one knee and proposed to his girlfriend on the kiss cam. A truly beautiful thing. She said yes, and the wedding march echoed over the ice as he picked her up and spun her around, his joy so clear to read on his face. I sighed and glanced over at Devon again. Would I kiss him if the camera landed on us? I doubted that he’d even notice.