“But even if you don’t buy more things, you can still give experiences as gifts,” Tyler says, then shoots me anI know what you did an hour agolook. “Like buying carolers for your enemy.”
My jaw comes unhinged. How the hell does he knowwhat I plan to do with the carolers? Am I that transparent? I knock back some scotch to avoid the questioning—both from him and from the little voice in my head.
But the hits keep coming as Jason pins me with a look and goes for the jugular. “And every year at the gala, you issue your warning. ‘If anyone else tells me how they met their true love at Christmas, I’m going to tell them my story just to ruin their night.’”
Ouch. I sound like an asshole. Like a giant jerk of a cat who knocks mugs and shit off counters for no reason, then pisses in them too. Still, that doesn’t mean I want to be set up. Crossing my arms, I glare at them. “Your solution is a matchmaker?”
Jason grins, his confidence never wavering, his eyes gleaming as he says, “My sister is going to find a date for you. In one short year, Isla’s become one of the best matchmakers in the city. She matched the executive director of the San Francisco Art Museum with a noted venture capitalist. She paired one of the agents in my office with an artist that Asher’s wife knows. And,” he says, then takes a deep, too satisfying breath, “she matched your coach with his new girlfriend.”
Damn. Coach McBride had been notoriously single for some time. I blow out a breath but say nothing.
“Her client list is incredible,” he continues. “And her success rate is way better than your shot percentage.”
I want to argue that a shot percentage for a defenseman isn’t supposed to be high. But one, he knows that. And two, the air feels heavy right now.
I hide a gulp as best I can while I look around at the guys I go to war with every day on the ice. I see the care in their faces—they’re irritatingly earnest. They really think this is for my own good. And worse, I realize somethingI’ve never thought of before: I’ve been ruining their good time. I flash back to the last few galas. Fine, maybe I complained about the decor. Possibly I groused about the guests. Likely, I went kicking and screaming into the event just like I did earlier tonight. And yup, they fucking babysat my single ass.
Embarrassment, and maybe even some shame, slams into me. These guys are my family, and I hate that I’ve been the one to dampen the mood.
“Fine,” I grumble. “But this doesn’t mean I’ll like it.”
“You will,” Miles says with infuriating certainty.
“Doubtful. But whatever.”
Jason’s smirk turns into a smile. A real one. Like he wants this for me. Badly. “The date isn’t just for the gala, by the way,” he says, too hopeful for my taste, but perfectly on brand for his happy ass. “It’s for the next thing, and the next thing after that. You know, to give you some…momentum.”
I nearly choke on my scotch. “Momentum? You think this is going to turn into some kind of rom-com montage? Or worse, a relationship?”
Miles leans in, unflappable as ever. “It’s about finding someone who fits, man. Not just for one night. Sure, we’ll start with the gala, but that’ll be the beginning for you. And we get it—dating is hard. That’s why we got you a matchmaker instead of a subscription to a new app.”
“Gee, thanks,” I deadpan.
“We’re not going to leave you stranded looking for love. She’ll help you every step of the way.”
Feels like jail time. “Amazing,” I mutter.
My sarcasm is lost on them. “It is going to be great. She’s damn good at what she does,” Jason says, clearlyproud of both his sister and my teammates’ gift. “And it’s going to work.”
Like hell it will.
Jason presses her name on his phone, and a moment later, Isla sweeps into the hotel bar. She’s a burst of energy, rubbing her palms together with a bright, confident smile that I’m desperately trying to not think about kissing off her as she says, “Gentlemen, thank you for giving me this opportunity.” She turns to Jason and the team. “I love a challenge, and I always rise to them.”
Jason chuckles as he gives her a hug. “This will be your toughest one ever,” he says and ha, fucking, ha.
Miles grins. “We’re rooting for you.”
“I won’t let you down,” Isla says with complete assurance, her smile never faltering. Her pretty, pink smile that I really need to stop fixating on. “We’ll find him a date before Santa can even check his naughty or nice list.”
Right. Sure. Because nothing screams holiday cheer like meddling friends and forced matchmaking. They think I’m cornered, but I’ve got my own playbook. I’ll take their damn gift to keep them happy, but I’ll be playing along when I go on dates. Acting as if I’m opening my heart. But really, I’ll just be going through the motions, and keeping my heart where it belongs—on ice.
I’ll fake it for my friends’ sake, but no way am I finding my Christmas love, or any other kind.
Ever again.
5
A HOLLY JOLLY BET
