The Bachelor’s Christmas Bride by Victoria Pade Page B

everyday stuff.”
    â€œIt’s my special blend,” he said, not offering exactly what that special blend was.
    But all Shannon cared about was chasing away the chill and enjoying her hot chocolate, and to that end she sat on the hearth and sipped.
    Dag sat beside her, leaving a few inches between them. Not too many inches, but enough so that there was no touching—except in Shannon’s mind where she was imagining his thigh running the length of her thigh, and his upper body close enough for her to snuggle against….
    Trying to ignore that image, she glanced sidewaysat his oh-so-handsome, slightly beard-shadowed face with its rugged appeal, and said, “Professional hockey, huh?”
    â€œGuilty.”
    â€œPlaying professional sports of any kind is the dream of a lot of little boys.”
    â€œPlaying pro-hockey was mine, that’s for sure. It was already something I was fantasizing about and acting out with my friends when I asked for my first pair of skates.”
    â€œWhich was when?” Shannon probed to learn more about him.
    â€œI was four. There was a pond near our house that froze solid every winter. All the kids skated there and the bigger guys played hockey. I was itching to get in on the action. So I asked for the skates for Christmas and the minute I put them on they just felt right. I knew I was going to be able to fly in them—”
    â€œThat seems so young,” Shannon marveled.
    Dag laughed. “I know guys who think if their kid can walk, he can skate, to get a head start in the game.”
    â€œAnd you were a natural?”
    â€œLet’s just say I was a quick learner. But I was right about the skates—once I learned how to get around on them, I could move as if my feet had wings.”
    â€œAnd because of the older guys playing hockey, rather than figure skating, you went in that direction?” Shannon asked after another sip of her hot chocolate.
    â€œI didn’t even know what figure skating was as a kid. But hockey was everywhere around here. I played in the amateur league, I spent two summers in Canada at hockey camp, and I played one season of midget before I finally started high school and could play there—”
    â€œAnd then through college,” she contributed, recalling that he’d said he’d had a scholarship, “before you went pro.”
    â€œRight,” he confirmed, drinking his own hot chocolate quicker than she was.
    â€œYou must have been really good.”
    â€œGood enough,” he said.
    But this evening someone had marveled at Dag being twice-named MVP, so she knew he was being humble.
    â€œWas it all you’d hoped it would be?” she asked, wondering why he wasn’t still doing it.
    â€œOh, God, yes,” he answered heartily. “Making a living doing something you love? Being treated like a king by fans? By women—”
    Shannon laughed at that. “Groupies?”
    â€œSome…” he said the same way he’d refrained from bragging about his skills. But rather than elaborating on that, he went on talking about how hockey had been everything he’d hoped it would be.
    â€œBut it doesn’t make for a long career?” she said to encourage him to tell her why he wasn’t still playing.
    Dag shrugged. “Some guys make it into their forties. One guy played until he was fifty-two.”
    â€œBut you…”
    â€œI’m definitely not forty or fifty-two,” he said wryly.
    â€œBut you’re not still playing the game you love,” she persisted.
    â€œNope, now I’m a land-and homeowner,” he said.
    Shannon sensed that his positive attitude about this change was some sort of spin, that he wasn’t actually happy to have stopped playing hockey.
    And her feeling grew stronger when he abruptly changed the subject. “So, your face is back to its normalcolor. How about your hands and feet—any pain? Can you