EPILOGUE

CONOR: CHRISTMAS ONE YEAR LATER

" I s it bittersweet?" Sierra asks, looking up at me even as she digs for the last kernels of popcorn in our bucket. She ate about one third of it by herself without realizing it.

What she did notice: that my stomach has been in knots. But it's not for the reason she thinks.

"Nope," I respond sincerely, looking into her eyes and not breaking the contact despite the two hockey players that smash into the glass right in front of our seats.

Sierra jumps so high that a few kernels escape the confines of the bucket. Her eyes are wide as saucers as the players grunt and push each other in their fight for the puck. "I have to say I'm kind of glad." She swallows hard. "I'd hate to see you getting hit like that."

That makes my lips stretch into a smile. "I looked pretty good when I was a little beat up, though."

"I think you look plenty good without injuries, Mahoney."

"And I think you look the best without any—" Abruptly she shoves popcorn at my mouth and doesn't let me finish the saucier words. That's too bad because they were just about to make me forget what's going to happen in a few minutes.

Now that I'm back to reality, I turn to the game right as Max finally wins the puck. While I was turned to Sierra, my left eye was the one on the side of the action and I hadn't noticed that he was one of the players going at it. Before taking off, Max flashes me a quick thumb up that I return.

The player from the opposing team that he was duking it out with was none other than our friend Nate, because hockey is a small world that way. But also, the two of them knew that Sierra and I were coming to this game, and just like we did with Max, they helped me prepare my private event.

Sierra has no idea I'm about to propose to her right here.

Okay, it's not an entirely wild gamble. She and I have talked about marriage and we're of the same opinion that it's what we want this relationship to head to. But the public proposal part is a bit trickier.

I couldn't ask her directly what kind of proposal she prefers—something just between us? At a destination? In front of family? In front of strangers?

So what I did is that I recruited her friends, Rachel and Camila. Apparently after a lot of boozy apple ciders over brunch, all they could get out of Sierra was "what I want is for everyone to know that Conor and I are wild for each other."

That could fit any scenario, but for some reason I decided to do it in public where I was guaranteed to freak out the worst.

I've spent basically the whole game with my right arm around her shoulders, my hand resting on her shoulder over her layers of clothes where she can't possibly feel how cold and clammy it is. My other hand I've kept occupied between popcorn and my drink, and away from contact with her .

The box with the ring is on my left pocket. Sierra hasn't noticed how she's been kept to my right side the whole night so that she doesn't accidentally feel the box.

The ref blows the whistle stopping the play, and music blares around the arena. My heart kicks up violently once I recognize the familiar tune of the local team, but with a Christmas jangle twist to honor the season.

It's kiss cam time and also my show time.

The Jumbotron displays a first couple, an older one who have clearly been together for decades. They burst out laughing at the cartoon mistletoe drawn on the screen between them and the wife turns to smack a big kiss on her husband that gets the crowd going.

"That is so freaking adorable." Sierra grins up at the screen, unknowingly giving me hope that she won't hate this.

I don't even pay attention to the next couple because I know we'll be third and last. While everyone—including my girlfriend—are transfixed by the show, I dig my hand into my pocket and close it around the small velvet box.

Then the camera shifts to us, and someone's had the great idea of printing my name on screen along with the words former professional player. Now I don't know if the crowd's cheering is because we're about to kiss, or because of me, but it doesn't really matter.

"Oh!" Sierra laughs and covers her face, but with all the cheering around us she slowly peeks between her fingers at me.

I'm smiling, I know I am—on the inside I'm screaming, though.

"Oh look, it's mistletoe," I tease, my attention solely on her.

"Please, you don't need mistletoe for me to kiss you anymore." With another giggle, she leans over and presses her lips against mine.

My eyes close and for a moment everything is perfect. Her hand is in my hair and the noise around us drowns a moan from my chest that would've either made her scold me, or got her own engine revving. There's no in between.

Too soon Sierra pulls away and looks at the screen, expecting it to shift to another couple. Surprise registers on her face when she realizes that the camera is still on us. And she watches through it as I slide down the seat to my knee, taking the mostly empty popcorn bucket with me to set it on the floor.

That tears her eyes from the screen and back to me. "Conor, what's happening?"

Shakier than the five rabbits in a trench coat that she claims to be, I pull up the velvet box and present it to her. "This is happening."

Her eyes bulge. Her jaw drops. The crowd roars like the home team just scored the game winning goal.

I have to kind of scream for her to hear me at this point. "If I could go back in time and choose not suffering the accident and keeping hockey, but never meeting you, I would still choose you."

Sierra sucks in air and at the next blink, there's moisture in her eyes.

"And I would like you to choose me too," I ask, feeling red taking over my face.

It takes two tries to open the box but I manage, and another laugh gurgles out of her. I was a bit cheeky with the ring, setting three oval shaped diamonds over a smaller round one in an imitation of the mistletoe that got us together.

"So, Sierra Fernandez, will you please do me the honor of changing my status from former foe and boyfriend, to husband?"

She stays suspended in her surprise for a moment. Until her lips stretch into a wide smile that reaches her eyes and she throws herself at me. She knocks the wind out of my lungs— nothing new, to be honest—and I manage to catch her before we topple over.

Amid wolf whistles and clapping, Sierra says into my ear, "Consider yourself promoted, Conor Mahoney."

AND THEY SKATED HAPPILY EVER AFTER

*

Thank you for reading Mistlefoe !

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Sierra is a big baseball fan and coincidentally my next release is the first book of a new baseball romance series! Preorder Wild Pitch here .

You can also read the first book in my hockey romance series that started it all, where Conor first appears. Read Faceoff here .