Shifting from foot to foot, I say, “Well, since we’re both here ... would you like some mulled cider?”
Bree hesitates, then shivers. “I could use something warm.”
Five minutes later, we’re sitting at a picnic table at Mrs. Claus’s Café—an outdoor eating area open to anyone at the market. Steaming cups of spiced cider wait patiently between us.
Having changed locations and somehow managed to remain upright—for a second there, I thought she was going to commandeer a reindeer and trample me—the situation is no less bizarre. So I take a gamble and strike up a conversation likewe’re here on purpose. “So, you signed up for a matchmaking service?”
Frowning, she says, “It’s just research for my book. I’m writing about mail-order brides. Nina thought this would help with authenticity.”
“Ah. That makes sense.” Sort of, but it doesn’t answer the question about what happens once she’s married to the guy she’s matched with … who would be me.
“What’s your excuse?” she asks, wrapping her hands around her paper cup.
I grimace, unsure whether I should reveal what landed me here. At this rate, it’s best to go with pure honesty. “Lost a bet with the team during the Ho Ho Hockey charity game. If I didn’t get the top score for goals made, the guys got to decide my future.”
“Let me guess, you didn’t score?”
“Lost by one point. The elf ears distracted me.” I refuse to admit that it was to a retired player. Can’t let anyone think I’ve lost my game while on injury leave.
She snorts as if she doesn’t believe it—not my reason for being part of this lunacy or my claim that I’d marry her someday.
I say, “To be honest, I wasn’t going to follow through with this, but there’s a cancellation fee, plus the guys would never let me live it down.”
Bree’s eyebrows dip. “I was hoping I imagined that.”
“We’d both owe it even if only one of us backs out.”
“Were you planning on backing out?”
Before I can respond, a booming voice interrupts us. “Well, if it isn’t Cobbiton’s most exciting new couple!”
We both look up to see Mayor Nishimura approaching our table, beaming with holiday cheer in a red coat and green scarf.
I stand to shake her hand. “Mayor Nishimura. Nice to see you. But we’re not?—”
Mayor Nishimura clasps her hands together. “Fletch Turley, one of our very own hockey heroes, and Bree Darling, our celebrated author! This is exactly the kind of local celebrity power couple our holiday events need.”
“I’m sorry?” Bree says, confused.
Over the mayor’s shoulder, I spot three very guilty-looking figures that are about the height and build of Knights players.
The mayor says, “The Cobbiton Activities Commission is in desperate need of two people to organize and execute the toy drive this year—Allison Curtain-Wallace abruptly left the state and Miles Long has shingles. You two would be perfect. The famous hockey player and the bestselling romance novelist. Everyone will be thrilled.”
“Oh, I don’t know if—” Bree begins.
Steamrolling us with enthusiasm, Mayor Nishimura continues, “The kickoff is next week. You are going to bring a sack full of Santa’s joy to so many children!” With that, she’s off in a flurry, leaving us staring after her.
I glare at the guys and before they disappear into the crowd, I see three knowing smirks. Oh, they are going to get it—stick and puck style.
“Did we just get volunteered for something?” she asks.
“Volun-told?” I plop back down on the picnic table bench. “I think we did. Mayor Nishimura can be passionate.”
Bree looks down at her cider. “This is already getting complicated.”
“You can say that again.” I take a drink, letting the warmth of the spiced cider settle me as silence drops between us.
After a beat, I say, “So, about this matchmaking contract thing.”
