Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 18476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
The assignment is simple.
Don’t let our girls find their unwrapped Christmas presents.
Don’t be gone too long helping my puck head of a brother defeat his overdue holiday shopping.
Don’t miss the most important tradition to my wife and my ma of the year.
It’s the last part that gets complicated when I volunteer to stop an unexpected kidnapping that happens right in front of my eyes…
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter 1
Slater
I absolutely believe in Christmas miracles.
For instance.
Take the fact that I haven’t roasted my little brother’s nuts over an open fire for not only dragging me to do his last-minute Christmas shopping with him but ditching me in the middle of said shopping to do something even more moronic than running out the holiday clock.
And what could possibly be dumber, you ask?
Hitting on the ex-wife of one of his fellow teammates.
Not only is that a suicide mission – there’s a very strict, even if unspoken, rule about going after exes, sisters, and mothers as well as daughters to those in charge in his sport – it’s derailing our main assignment, which is to buy my little girls – Allaira and Alura aka Lair Bear and Lu – the best presents possible to keep him in their good uncle graces.
Truthfully?
They’re really not that picky.
You just have to know them a bit better than Kolby does.
Hockey comes first for him, and everything else in the world second.
And I get it.
I’ve always gotten it.
Hell, if you replace hockey with R&R, I’ve lived it.
Unfortunately…kids don’t really get the whole career first mindset.
Especially mine.
I feel like it’s their grandparents’ fault – all sets – but can’t actually prove it.
I know it’s not Angel Cake’s.
She’s guilty of working too much herself.
Plus, she’s always had my six when it comes to explaining why I’m not around when they’d like me to be.
“Here,” Kolby states at the same time he shoves his credit card in my direction, “just tap it for me.”
I don’t bother looking down at the offered object.
“I just…” He glances off in the distance and anxiously bounces, his slightly smaller build practically fucking vibrating in place. “I just wanna go over and say hi.”
There’s no change in my expression.
“Or…hey.”
This time he’s offered an unconvinced slow blink.
“Or…Merry Christmas you fuckin’ snipe.”
“Not that one.”
My little brother airily laughs and lets his shoulders bounce. “Alright…I probably won’t go with that one.”
“Do. Not. Go. With that one.”
“Fine.” Our stares lock once more. “I’ll just say hi.”
The expression on my face remains firm. “Do I need to remind you which part of your body you do that with?”
“My tongue.”
“Kolby.”
“As in the words roll off my tongue and out of my mouth,” he back tracks in the least clever way possible, impish grin growing in nature. “Seriously. Be a good winger and-”
“No.”
“But-”
“No.”
“Come on, Big Bro. Don’t you want nieces or nephews?”
“I have those.”
“From me.”
“No.”
His crystal gaze that matches mine narrows in a taunting fashion. “I bet Lair Bear and Lu want more cousins.”
“I bet they don’t.” We move up one position closer to checking out. “Hell, I bet if you ask ‘em that shit right now, they’ll tell you they’ve already got too many. They don’t exactly love sharin’ one set of grandparents. You really think they wanna share the other?”
My daughters aren’t above average selfish – at least according to Angel Cake, her algorithms, and analysis of their word choices – but they relish the attention and affection and adventures they get to have with all of our parents. I mean what kids wouldn’t love getting to go to Disney or skiing or snorkeling with the turtles on a random Tuesday only to then go camping or horseback riding or to Legoland two days later? Between my parents and stepparents and Arley’s retired parents, there is no shortage of whisk them away moments, even if away is just to the local bookstore for a Pete the Cat read along. Those moments are a little less with Arley’s side since all of her brothers have kids now, and our girls – bless their tiny hearts – have objected to the split grandparents custody situation in their own ways.
I was the one that had to break it to them after Thanksgiving that they couldn’t include “not sharing Pop and GG” on their Christmas list to Santa.
That in itself was like stepping on verbal landmines.
Pretty sure that’s how Santa ended up spending twice the amount he did last year.
Not including the few last-minute items, I threw in our cart today.
What can I say?
They can never have too many pairs of cowgirl boots.
“Slater,” Kolby practically whines, gingerbread sweater covered frame dramatically sagging, “give me like five.”
“Two.”
He immediately perks up and flashes me an arrogant smirk. “I can put the sin in the bin in that amount of time.”