Season’s Schemings: A Holiday Hockey Rom Com

“Hiiiiii,” I sing as Seb slides back into the stool next to mine. “I got us more drinks. Shots!”

I gesture to the bar, where four Slippery Nipples are lined up. The bartender did not look pleased when I requested them—this being a classy hotel bar establishment and all that jazz— but I insisted. I have absolutely zero idea what’s in them, but I wanted to say the name out loud.

I think I miiiiiiight be a little—a lot—drunk.

“What are those?” Seb eyes them cautiously, but luckily, he doesn’t wait for an answer. He throws back two of them, then winces. “Urgh.”

“That bad?” I raise an eyebrow at the big ol’ Hockey Man getting his cute little panties in a twist over a couple of teeny shots, but then I shoot one myself. “Ewww, you’re right. Yuck, yuck, yuck.” I flap my hands and grimace. “That’ll teach me for ordering nipples.”

“Nipples?”

“Don’t say nipples.”

“You said it first.”

“Yeah, but it sounds obscene coming from your mouth.”

Seb considers this for a moment, then nods. “Fair.” He wipes his mouth, takes a huge breath like he’s working up the courage to do something, then looks me dead in the eye. “Maddie, I have an idea. A crazy one.”

“I like crazy.”

“I know. Hence why I’m asking you.” He smiles. “You know the way you said I should come pretend to be your boyfriend for the holidays?”

“Ha. Yeah.” I dreamily create a beautiful mental fabrication of Elizabeth drooling over the absolute hunk that is Seb as she scrapes Adam’s jaw off the ground for him.

“What if I actually did that?”

I blink, sure that I’ve heard him wrong. “Sorry?”

Seb’s gorgeous blue eyes are wide… and a little wild. Hazy. “We could help each other out.”

“How would you pretending to be my boyfriend in front of my annoying family and even more annoying ex help you?” I raise a brow. “Are you looking for a Good Samaritan project for Christmas or something?”

Seb frowns, then leans forward and puts a big hand on each of my arms. “You are not a charity case, Maddie.”

The way he says this, all growly and firm and low—coupled with the delicious feeling of his warm, callused palms moving along my bare skin—stirs something deep in my stomach. “You’re going to have to explain what you mean then.”

“You want to stick it to your ex, right?”

I really, really do. Spending Christmas with stupid, smug Adam and stupid, stunning Elizabeth is going to be miserable. Unless I can somehow hoist myself up out of the discard pile and onto their hellish playing field.

“And I want to keep playing in the NHL. Keep playing for the Cyclones, specifically.”

I shake my head, entirely confused. “I don’t see how these two things are connected.”

“What if we didn’t go to the cabin as boyfriend and girlfriend…” Seb takes a deep breath and his eyes lock on mine. “What if we went as husband and wife?”

I’m not sure how I’m meant to react to this statement, but even in my drunken haze, I know the wrong thing to do is choke on my own spit.

“Whoa, there.” Seb claps my back a few times. “Breathe, Maddie.”

I sputter a few more times. “Sorry, sorry. I think I’m horribly mistaken. Because I’m pretty sure I just heard you say that we should get married.”

“Temporarily.”

“How drunk are you, exactly?” I demand.

“Very,” he replies.

I stare blankly at Sebastian Slater. Number 19. Leading scorer in his division. Asking to be my temporary husband. “Well, there’s no such thing as a temporary marriage. That’s the point of marriage. It’s forever.”

Seb rolls his eyes. “And how often does that actually happen?”

I think of Adam, who gave me a promise ring when we were seventeen, and then chose someone else to wear an actual engagement ring. My mother, who was left by my biological father while she was wrangling a toddler. Jax, who has sworn off romance because of all the crap he’s seen in his life.

Crap that I’ve seen too, but have simply… chosen not to pay attention to.

Seb reads my silence as agreement. “Exactly. Now, you need a level up—your words, not mine—to help you get through the holidays. Being married to a hockey player is the biggest level up you can get when your ex is into hockey. And besides, it’s me.” He smiles cockily. “And in return… I need an American wife so that I can continue playing hockey.”

“A wife,” I repeat dumbly.

He nods. “You’re an American citizen, right?”

“Yes.” I cough. “But this is crazy! Surely taking a bit of time off to wait for your new visa won’t make too big of a dent in your career. I assume you make enough money not to work for a month or two.”

“It’s not about the money.”

“What is it then?” I study his face. Watch his blue eyes flutter before he sets his jaw.

“I don’t want to let my team down.”

“And that’s the only reason?” I challenge.

“Hockey is everything to me. Without it, I don’t know who I am. I have to play.” He chews on his lip, his face still hard. “I was brought to the Cyclones to help them out of their dry streak in the playoffs, and I intend to do it. Without me, there’s no way we’ll keep this winning streak. They need me.”

“That was weirdly entirely egotistical and entirely selfless at the same time.”

He looks at me with a simple shrug. “It’s the truth.”

“I wish I had your confidence.”

He smiles. Flirtily, I think. But that could be the nipple shots talking. “Imagine how confident you’d feel going to Aspen for Christmas with me.”

“It would almost be worth it just to rile up my mom.” I can only imagine Mother Dearest’s reaction if I showed up with a huge hunk of hockey man and derailed her plans for me to grovel at my cheating ex’s feet.

“And if he’s as big a hockey fan as you say he is, Eugene would freak,” Seb adds.

“Who?”

“I don’t know your ex’s name, so I called him Eugene in my head.”

I break into (what must be exceedingly unattractive) snorting laughter at the thought of Adam’s face. Showing up married to his favorite hockey player, Sebastian Slater, would be way better level up material than simply sending him a selfie of us.

In fact, it would be the ultimate level up.

“That’s amazing.”

“I can’t remember what he looks like from the show, but I’m imagining a bald spot. And that he smells like deli meat.”

I cackle harder. “Are you trying to butter me up? Because it’s working. To the point where I feel like this might actually be a good idea.”

He smiles again. Holds out a hand.

I take it.

“Madelyn… wait, what’s your last name?”

“Grainger.”

“Middle name?”

“Louise.”

“Madelyn Louise Grainger, will you temporarily marry me?”

I smile back at him. Not only because it’s absolutely endearing that he used my full name. But also because this is beginning to sound hilarious, and also smart.

“I mean… why the hell not?” I throw my head back and laugh, feeling warm and fuzzy and altogether gleeful at the mental images of Mom freaking out and Adam scraping his jaw off the floor at his gorgeous cabin in Aspen.

It’s genius.

A foolproof plan for a pair of drunken fools.

“So how do we do this?” I ask excitedly. Because right now, ridiculous, vengefully childish excitement is bubbling up in me with all the force of the Bellagio fountains. And I have a feeling that we are in for quite the show.

Seb chucks my chin. “Have you forgotten where we are?”

“Oh my gosh!” I squeal, almost sliding off my stool again. “We’re in Vegas, baby!”