My Christmas Charade: Holiday Hat Trick, #3

By Melanie Ting

"Melanie Ting can always be counted on for laughs, sexy romance, and unusual heroes that you end up falling in love with." USAToday bestselling author, Kate Willoughby.

 

"Every time I read a story by this author I'm impressed with her ability to combine exciting hockey with genuinely likeable characters." Maria Rose, All About Romance

 

Em needs a horrible fake boyfriend

 

For Em Davis, planner extraordinaire, life should run as smoothly as her economic forecasts. She's got a checklist for the perfect boyfriend, and now she's met Thomas, who ticks off all the boxes. The only problem is her parents keep rejecting her new men. But she has a solution: she'll bring home someone so offensive that Thomas will shine in comparison.

 

Ian Reid is the perfect man for this role. He's a foul-mouthed jerk who insults her each time they meet. How hard could it be to spend three days over Christmas with a sexist lunkhead to teach her picky parents to quit interfering with her love life?

 

The only thing that Em hasn't calculated is that there's a whole other side to this sexy ex-pro hockey player. And a lot can happen in three days.

 

The final book in this trilogy brings together the couple who have been fighting their attraction since they first met in My Viral Valentine. This book originated as Her Best Worst Boyfriend in the USA Today bestselling Hockey Holiday anthology. It has been expanded to four times its original length, but still has all the chemistry between the earthy Ian and the proper Em. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melanie Ting
• Release date: Dec 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781999192648

Book preview

Introduction

Em needs a horrible fake boyfriend.

For Em Davis, planner extraordinaire, life should run as smoothly as her economic forecasts. She’s got a checklist for the perfect boyfriend, and now she’s met Thomas, who ticks off all the boxes. The only problem is her parents keep rejecting her new men. But she has a solution: she’ll bring home someone so offensive that Thomas will shine in comparison.

Ian Reid is the perfect man for this role. He’s a foul-mouthed jerk who insults her each time they meet. How hard could it be to spend three days over Christmas with a sexist lunkhead to teach her picky parents to quit interfering with her love life?

The only thing that Em hasn’t calculated is that there’s a whole other side to this sexy ex-pro hockey player. And a lot can happen in three days.

My Christmas Charade is a vastly expanded version of the short novella, Her Best Worst Boyfriend, which appeared in the Hockey Holidays anthology.

1

I Dos and Don’ts

Em Davis

---

Yo, earth to Em.

Ian Reid’s loud voice broke into my daydreams of white tulle and pink rosebuds. I blinked and saw him motioning me over. Had I zoned out in the middle of the wedding rehearsal?

Oh gosh, I’m sorry. I scurried over to the registry table.

Abby Boyko, the bride and my best friend, gave me a Mona Lisa smile. She was the most relaxed bride ever. If it were my wedding, I would already be auditioning replacement maids of honour.

Trisha, the woman in charge of this wedding venue, positioned me by the shoulders—as if I were the ditziest member of the wedding party. Em, you stand here. The bride and groom sign the marriage certificate first, then the best man and maid of honour sign as witnesses.

She made us all pretend to sign an invisible piece of paper. First, Abby, then her beaming groom, Mason Harrington. Then me, the spaced-out maid of honour. And finally, Ian Reid, the best man—a misnomer if there ever was one.

Trisha continued with her detailed explanations, which were the reason I’d zoned out in the first place. I already knew too much about weddings. I’d started a wedding scrapbook when I was eleven. I had 377 pins on my Wedding Ideas Pinterest board. I was the queen of wedding knowledge even though I was still single.

I tried to concentrate on Trisha’s directions. Then I’ll introduce you as Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. She squinted at Abby. That is, if you’re taking Mason’s last name?

I am, Abby replied.

Trisha beamed—she was clearly a traditionalist—and continued, Next you’ll head down the aisle. Do walk slowly, as everyone wants a good look at the newlyweds.

Because they’re gonna look different once they’re married, muttered Ian, who was standing too close for my liking. With all the wedding preparations, I’d spent far too much time in his presence lately. I’d hated Ian from the moment I’d seen him, and nothing he’d done since had altered my first impression. But tonight was the wedding rehearsal and dinner, and tomorrow was the wedding. After that, I could go back to avoiding him. That alone was worth a glass of celebratory champagne.

Abby and Mason walked down the aisle slowly enough for all the empty chairs to appreciate their new appearance. I took a closer look at the chairs. They were beautifully adorned with ribbon and silk flowers. I’d have to take a photo for my wedding inspiration file.

When you’re done imagining your wedding, we should go. Ian offered me his arm.

How did he read my mind? I scowled at him, but Ian only smirked back in return. That was his perpetual expression—mocking me.

Hooking my arm through Ian’s without touching him proved impossible. His arm was too bulky and muscular. He was tall and broad-chested and encroached on my personal space in too many ways.

Why are you so large? I muttered.

Most women appreciate that about me. Everything was a dirty joke to him.

Must you be so crude? We’re in a... I hesitated because despite the arched ceiling and decorative glass windows, this venue was only a former church. Mason was agnostic and Abby was a lapsed, divorced Catholic, so this was their best option.

You started it, Ian said.

I opened my mouth to deliver a lecture on his immaturity and then closed it. What was the point? And why did Mason—so affable and intelligent—choose Ian to be his best man? Over my shoulder, I could see the other bridesmaid, Sophia Ando, following with Roy Wong, Mason’s childhood friend from Korea. With his sleek grey suit, he looked more like best man material than the guy beside me in his ugly sports jacket.

Ian snorted. Looking for a possible wedding date? Roy’s not it.

Again I saw red and answered through clenched teeth, "I’m not. Besides, how would you know what my type is?"

I do know that he’s Mr. Wong. Ian laughed.

I smacked his shoulder, which turned out to be so solid that the palm of my hand stung. The echoing noise earned me a stern look from Trisha.

Why did I let Ian goad me into doing stupid things?

I would never bring a casual date to a wedding anyway, I said. Everyone knew that weddings were contagious. What better way to end a relationship than subjecting your date to strangers asking, So, when is it going to be your turn? Although weddings never had any effect on my ex Lucas Yan in all the years we’d dated.

Me either, Ian said. Too much pressure.

Ian and I agreed on something? Incredible.

So we don’t get to meet the latest in your parade of girlfriends? I asked.

In the two-plus years I’d known him, Ian had not dated anyone for longer than a few months. While I wasn’t surprised that he couldn’t maintain a relationship, the sheer number of women willing to date him was a shock. What on earth did they see in him? Physically, he was okay—if you liked that too-much-time-at-the-gym look, which I did not. Everything about him was too much: his broad nose, his fleshy lips, and his ridiculous hair—mullets went out in the eighties. Add on a personality that was rude, crude, and uninformed on topics other than hockey, and I remained mystified about his popularity.

If there was an apocalyptic explosion and we were the last two people on the planet, that would be the end of the human race. I would never let Ian Reid lay a finger on me.

Unfortunately, I had to hold on to his arm now. I could feel the vibration of his laughter.

What’s so funny? I asked.

You. I didn’t know you’d been keeping tabs on all the chicks I dated. Don’t worry, your turn will come.

Are you familiar with the phrase ‘when hell freezes over?’ I replied.

We entered the room where the cocktail reception was going to be. It was half set up for tomorrow and already looking gorgeous. The room had beautiful vaulted ceilings and wood floors. Right now it was filled with twinkle lights and small high tables with the bright retro tablecloths that Abby had chosen.

I dropped Ian’s arm the moment etiquette allowed and made a beeline for Abby.

Em! She gave me a huge hug, as if we hadn’t just seen each other 90 seconds earlier. Abby was already giddy about her wedding.

Sorry about my space-out, I said.

Don’t worry. I was hoping something would go wrong. Isn’t there some saying about a terrible dress rehearsal means a great opening night?

I’d never heard such a saying, but if my mistakes made Abby happy, that was perfect.

Doesn’t this room look great? I told you that vintage fabric would rock, Abby said.

The purple, green, and orange paisley pattern was eye-blinding. But I’d gotten used to it as Abby and I sewed all the tablecloths.

I’m sure you’re the first bride in history to use that seventies print.

She giggled. Funny. And thank you for all the work you did.

Glad to help. I ducked my head modestly, but it was nice to be acknowledged.

Someone called Abby over, and Natalie Harrington, Mason’s mother, slipped into her place.

Should we go over the last-minute details? she asked. We walked over to one of the tables and pulled out our organizers.

This room is almost ready, I said. And I double-checked with the florists. Everything is arriving on schedule: the floral arrangements here, and the bridal bouquets to the hotel.

She nodded and wrote in her planner. Ian’s going to pick up the boutonnieres, and the guys will get ready at Mason’s. Oh, and I checked the weather forecast—5°C and clear. Thank heavens it’s not going to snow.

A December wedding was always risky, but Natalie already had a list of private plowing services. We had prepared for every eventuality. Both of us checked off our final items.

That’s it then. Natalie smiled. Personally, I believe that this wedding really came together once we fired Genevieve.

When Natalie and I realized that the wedding planner Abby had hired was a flake, we’d offered to take over the planning process. Natalie was even more organized than me, but I knew the bride’s eclectic tastes, so together we had put together the wedding of Abby’s dreams.

Natalie smiled at me. You look so lovely tonight. I still can’t believe someone like you is single, Em.

Me either, but I didn’t give voice to that thought.

---

Next up was the rehearsal dinner at a nearby restaurant. Sophia was driving me. We bundled up against the winter weather and headed to her car.

I enjoyed meeting Abby’s brother, Ryan, Sophia said. Do you think she’s upset that her father isn’t coming?

Abby’s widowed father was an alcoholic, and they’d had a very distant relationship for years. The good news was that he had stopped drinking with the support of his new girlfriend. But they’d decided that the long trip, the stress, and the temptation of the open bar would be too much for him.

She’s happy that Ryan is here, I said. Abby’s pretty independent.

That’s true. She’s not like us. Sophia and I were both very close to our families.

We’re Abby’s family, I said.

Found families are important, she agreed.

Is Henry meeting us at the restaurant? I asked. Since I’d met Sophia’s boyfriend, Henry MacDonald, he’d gone from unknown musician to famous rock star—well, by Canadian standards anyway.

She shook her head. He’s in a studio in Toronto to do some re-recording. He might not even make it to the wedding.

Really? Doesn’t that bother you? I wondered. Their relationship seemed fairy-tale glamorous in some ways, but he was away so much. I couldn’t handle that.

But Sophia was relaxed. Henry will be here if he can. If not, I get to spend more time with you, Abby, and all our other friends.

Her self-assuredness was admirable. Sophia had always been a contented person, but since Henry came into her life, she’d blossomed into glowing happiness. Henry missing a wedding wouldn’t ruffle her, the same way that Henry performing in front of thousands of delirious fans or touring with his famous ex-girlfriend never bothered her. Henry and Sophia had achieved a higher level of love and trust.

Then I realized what distracted me at the rehearsal. It was the way Mason gazed at Abby—like a dog and his favourite chewed-up rope toy. True love.

Jealousy had left me preoccupied and off-kilter tonight. And I hated myself for feeling it. I loved my friends and I wanted them to be happy. But I wanted a serious relationship too. I wanted to be in love—real, permanent love. I’d known since I was a little girl that I wanted to get married and have children. Yet now I was almost 30 and still alone.

A fat, ugly tear rolled down my cheek, and I wiped it away.

Em, are you crying? What’s wrong? Should I pull over?

No, I’m fine. I tried to take a cleansing breath, but it came out like a hoarse sob.

You’re not fine. Hold on, we’re almost there. Sophia pulled into the restaurant parking lot and parked in a back corner.

Okay, now we’ve got privacy. She rooted in her purse and handed me a tissue.

Oh, thank you. Another sign I was losing it. I was the one with the complete first aid/repair/medical kit in my purse. But I’d forgotten about my own pack of tissues.

Tell me what’s wrong, Sophia said.

How horrible would I seem if I admitted I was jealous that my two best friends had wonderful relationships? But Sophia’s lawyer antennae would know if I lied. Still, I tried to put myself in a better light.

The wedding is stirring up things for me. I always thought I’d be married by now, maybe even have children. I realize I have a great life: I love my job, I have wonderful friends like you and Abby, and my parents are always there for me.

She reached over and patted my arm. It’s not like you’re old, Em. You’re going to find someone.

I sighed. Logically, I know you’re right. But I did all the right things. I fell in love with Lucas in high school and stayed with him for ten years. Anyone would have expected marriage, right? That was something I’d worried about, whether everyone else could tell he wasn’t the marrying type.

Sophia bobbed her head. Yes. You two seemed like a very solid couple to me.

And I’m not a romantic. I’m a realist. I feel like I’ve been very systematic about finding a boyfriend.

She winced. Maybe you should ditch your boyfriend checklist. You can’t find someone by the numbers. Nobody would ever match up a corporate lawyer and a musician; yet look how well Henry and I fit together.

But you two knew each other for—

We were interrupted by a loud knocking on the car. Abby was peering through the window. She motioned for Sophia to unlock the doors, then popped into the back seat.

Why are my bridesmaids sitting in the parking lot? she asked.

Um, we’re just chatting, said Sophia, who didn’t want to betray my jealous confidences.

We’re talking about my failure to get married, I admitted.

Oh. This again, said Abby. I thought you were dating someone new.

Yes, Thomas. We’ve gone out three times so far. I met him at a training seminar, but he’s not in my department. I had a rule about not dating men I worked with.

What’s he like? Sophia asked.

He’s a lot like me. He’s got a good job at Treasury Board. He’s into making long-range life goals, and he likes documentary films.

Abby scrunched her nose. Oh Em, you need someone less serious. Someone fun.

She really meant that I was too serious. I’d heard that my whole life, but I couldn’t change my personality. Besides, reliable people had to pick up the slack. Abby’s wedding wouldn’t be coming together so perfectly if Natalie and I hadn’t stepped in to help.

Besides, weren’t you just complaining about your parents? said Abby. You bring a guy home, and when your parents don’t approve, you break up with him.

That was true. My parents met my last two boyfriends and disliked them enough that there was no point in continuing. They’d really loved Lucas, and I suspected they were comparing everyone to him.

Abby’s expression was wistful. This is where not having an involved parent pays off.

I turned to Sophia, And you lucked out because your mother’s known Henry since he was four years old.

Her forehead creased. Actually, my mother wasn’t completely happy when I started dating Henry. She worried because he was still a struggling musician and I had an established law career.

What? Abby squealed. Did she think Henry was a gold digger?

Sophia shook her head. It wasn’t about money, exactly. More that if our incomes and lifestyles were so different, it might cause problems.

How did you bring her around? I asked. Nothing I said about my boyfriends had changed my parents’ minds.

I pointed out that Elliott had a career and lifestyle exactly like mine, and look how well that turned out.

Elliott was Sophia’s previous boyfriend. While they were at a party, she’d found him in a bathroom with another woman!

And that convinced her? I asked.

Sophia smiled. Yes. It made her realize that the most important thing was having someone who truly cared and treated me well.

Abby’s phone buzzed, and she looked at it. Ladies, we need to go. Everyone’s looking for us.

We exited the car and walked towards the restaurant.

Abby turned to me. Hey, Em, I think I’ve solved your problem. Next time bring home someone so awful that your parents will realize they’re being ridiculously picky.

She was kidding, but that wasn’t a bad idea. But where would I find a guy that terrible?

2

Holy Matrimony, Batman

Ian Reid

---

Boys, watch out for the groom’s face, I yelled as Carl’s stick rose towards Mason’s head. A swollen lip or stitches right now would suck. Any bride would lose it if you messed with her perfect wedding photos. Abby seemed relaxed so far, but I’d seen wedding day pressure turn normal chicks into bridezillas.

Six of us, mostly from the wedding party, were out here playing pond hockey on the morning of Mason’s wedding. Well, six of us plus Roy Wong, who was bundled in a blanket and pretending to supervise from the sidelines. I skated over and gave him a snow shower when I stopped.

Hey, watch my drink. Roy sheltered the thermos of coffee with Baileys that was keeping him warm. I pulled my bottle of beer out of the snow and took a drink.

You doing okay here? I’d offered to set him up with skates and gear, but he’d never played before.

Skating looks so easy when you guys do it. Is this a Canadian tradition—playing hockey before a wedding?

Not really. Most weddings here are in the summer, so maybe golfing or partying at the lake. I’d been to so many wedding and bachelor parties that they blurred together.

Roy held up his phone. Well, I’ve been posting photos of all this: the pond, the snow, the pine trees, and the hockey. My friends back in Seoul are going crazy. It’s everyone’s fantasy of Canada.

Whatever floats your boat.

I’d planned this game to keep Mason relaxed. He was a big worrier and waiting around all day would have made him a stress case.

Smitty, I’m open, I called as I skated back out. Smitty and Carl played beer league with me and Mason. Greg Powers was an old friend who’d played minor hockey with me and Mason. Ryan Boyko was out here too; he was Abby’s brother.

You’re a pretty good player, I told Ryan as we skated up the ice.

He laughed. Yeah, well, I’m from Timmins. You know the joke, right?

What joke?

Guy says, ‘Timmins. That’s in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere. Only whores and hockey players in Timmins.’ His boss goes, ‘Hey, my wife comes from Timmins.’ ‘Oh,’ the guy says, ‘What position does she play?’

I laughed loudly even though I’d heard that old chestnut many times. But life felt good right now. Pond hockey was pure and relaxing. Was it the fresh air or the freedom to play like a kid again?

I circled around and picked the puck off Greg. Mason took a pass from me and headed towards the open net.

Smitty called out the play-by-play, Harrington takes the pass, he dekes Boyko—sweet move! Now he’s in on a breakaway, he shoots…and scores! What a snipe! The crowd goes wild.

We all hooted and hollered. Mason raised his stick in a sheepish celly, but he couldn’t stop grinning.

Sure, making this game happen had been a shitload of work. Smitty and I drove out here two days ago to shovel the snow off and make sure the ice was solid enough for skating. The pond was a secret spot I’d known for years and it was a good 20-minute hike from the highway. I also had to organize drinks and food, and persuade Mason that hockey was a good idea, but whatever. Seeing Mason look happy and relaxed was worth it. He was my best friend and he deserved a great wedding day.

---

After the game, showered and refreshed, we headed out to the wedding chapel.

Once we got there, Greg and Ryan took off to do