Decidedly with Luck
Stina Lindenblatt
Contents
Blurb
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Part II
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Epilogue
Read on for an excerpt from Spying Under the Mistletoe
Also by Stina Lindenblatt
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Decidedly with Luck is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Stina Lindenblatt
Excerpt from Spying Under the Mistletoe by Stina Lindenblatt copyright © 2020 by Stina Lindenblatt
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any form without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations for the purpose of articles or reviews.
This book contains an excerpt from the novel Spying Under the Mistletoe by Stina Lindenblatt.
Cover design: Stina Lindenblatt
Cover art: Deposit Photo
Editing: Bev Rosenbaum and Flat Earth Editing.
ISBN: 978-1-7772625-1-8
Created with Vellum
Blurb
Masquerade ball rule #1: what happens at the ball doesn’t always stay at the ball.
Oops.
A chance encounter with a masked stranger at a charity ball led to an incredible kiss and a night of hot sex. The kiss was my goal for that night, a baby step forward after my husband’s death a year ago. The hot sex? Not so much.
You know what else hadn’t been my goal?
To be knocked up by a man whose identity is a mystery to me.
So now I’m preparing for my impending motherhood and planning a fundraiser to provide books for foster kids.
The latter is where hot hockey player Logan Mathews comes in...
The last time I saw Kiera Ashdown was the night of the Jingle Balls masquerade ball. She’d wanted her first time with a man after her husband’s death to be with a stranger.
After my NHL team trades me to San Francisco, where my daughter and ex-wife live, I’m determined to be a better father and not repeat past mistakes. My hockey career and my daughter come first.
The last thing I expect to discover is that Kiera is my seven-year-old daughter’s teacher. The last thing I expect to learn is that she’s pregnant with my dead best friend’s child.
And the last thing I want to admit is that I was the one who made love to Kiera—several times—the night of the ball.
Because if she ever found out that I’d lied to her, I could lose her friendship. I could lose so much more...
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Also by Stina Lindenblatt
Contemporary Romances
This One Moment
My Song For You
I Need You Tonight
Romantic Comedies
Decidedly Off Limits
Decidedly with Baby
Decidedly with Love
Decidedly with Mistletoe
Decidedly by Chance
Decidedly with Luck
Decidedly with Wishes
While You Were Spying
Spying Under the Mistletoe
Cowboy Most Wanted
Once Upon a Cowboy
Fix Me Up, Cowboy
To my family, whom I love with all my heart…
Part I
Part I was originally “Decidedly for Christmas” in the Jingle Balls charity anthology.
If you have already read the short story, you can leap-frog to Part II.
1
Kiera
December
For as long as I could remember, I’d always loved fairy tales. Even before becoming an elementary schoolteacher.
More specifically, I’d always loved Disney’s versions of the classic fairy tales.
Have you ever read Hans Christian Andersen’s original story of The Little Mermaid? There are no singing lobsters, no happy endings. The little mermaid doesn’t sail away into the sunset with her handsome prince.
Nope, not at all.
Spoiler alert!
She sacrifices herself so the prince can live, and the sea witch transforms the little mermaid into sea foam.
Unlike the original fairy tales, Disney leaves you with hope for a happily ever after, hope for a new beginning.
This was all fine and wonderful, but as I stood at the entrance to the hotel ballroom—my glittering silver stilettos feeling as though they were glued to the floor—I questioned if that would be the case for me.
Of course, it will.
Embracing that flicker of hope, I resumed reciting in my head my goal for the evening: Project Kissing Under the Mistletoe. A kiss under the mistletoe from a handsome stranger. A happy-for-now ending to the night—and a baby step toward moving on after my husband’s death a year ago.
I scanned the sea of ball gowns and tuxes and elaborate masks, searching for a particular blonde in a dress of black tulle. That’s right. In addition to the Jingle Balls ball being a fundraiser for testicular cancer, it was a masquerade ball.
My sister waved at me from across the ballroom, next to the grand Christmas tree decorated with a flurry of gold and red ornaments.
Brittany and her husband were the reason I was here tonight instead of back home in San Francisco, knitting mittens for foster kids in Boston. They were the reason I was wearing the mask covering the upper portion of my face and the stunning burgundy gown.
Don’t worry. This wasn’t the anniversary of my husband’s death. That had passed a week ago with me spending the day reading the love notes he used to leave all over our house.
Love notes I’d saved in a big floral box every time I found one.
On the day of the one-year anniversary, I’d sipped a glass of Enchanted Springs Chardonnay, the same wine we’d served at our wedding, and read the notes aloud.
Roses are red, violets are blue, I want to have hot sex with you.
A poet, he was not.
And then there was the note I had saved for last:
If I die before you, I want to be the star in the sky that grants all your wishes.
I inhaled a long, fortifying breath, channeling my inner Disney princess, and wove my way through the throng of merry partiers.
The conversation I’d had with Stephen after I’d found that note sashayed into my head. The conversation where he told me that if he did die before me—way, way, way down the line—he wanted me to fall in love again.
After this, he proceeded to list all the men he thought were viable options, in case they were available at the time.
“But definitely not Stinky Pete,” he’d said.
“I don’t think you have to worry about me ending up with the villain from Toy Story Two.”
Stephen barked a laugh—the laugh he always made when he thought I was being cute and adorable. “I was talking about my teammate. Pete Mundy. His hockey skates smell like he melted Limburger cheese in them.”
I grinned at him and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. “Okay, no, Pete Mundy. Anyone else?”
“Logan Mathews.”
“Is he a yah or a nah?”
“A definite yah.”
“I’m sure his wife would have something to say about that.” Logan had been Stephen’s best friend and teammate in college, and his best man at our wedding. Now, he played in the NHL—with the Chicago Blackhawks, last I’d heard.
“All right, I’ll add him to the list,” I’d said with a grin, even though my heart had been splitting into a billion fragments at the thought of Stephen possibly dying before me.
My sister’s red lips curved into a wide smile under her black-feathered half mask as I approached.
“Kiera.” She beamed at me like I was a baby who’d taken her first wobbly steps. “Let me introduce you to the charity’s biggest supporter and my dear friend.” The way she said it, you would’ve thought she was talking about royalty. “Lucinda, this is my little sister, Kiera. Kiera, this is Lucinda Mathews.” The woman’s surname came out in a hushed whisper.
I bit back the urge to curtsy to the much older woman standing next to Brittany. Lucinda’s gold-and-cream gown, diamond earrings and necklace, and spritz of floral perfume gave her a queenly air.
“Hello, my dear.” Her voice was dry and brittle, like antique parchment paper, yet filled with warmth and a spark of something.
Amusement, perhaps?
Remember the part about me resisting the urge to curtsy?
It would seem my body failed to get that message. Luckily, I’d had spent years perfecting the skill as a kid, back when I believed in fairy godmothers and dreamed of one day marrying my own prince.
Lucinda chuckled, and I felt my face heat as I straightened.
“And this is my grandson, Grayson.” She gestured with a wave of her hand to the tall, dark-haired man next to her. His half mask was simple and black. If the way his tuxedo embraced his body was any indication, the man made keeping in shape a top priority.
I held out my hand for him to shake—because heck if I was curtsying for him. But instead of shaking it, Grayson lifted my hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to it.
At the feel of his mouth against my skin, my body shouldn’t have reacted like hot lava swirled within its depths. My breath shouldn’t have hitched with sudden longing. And my lips shouldn’t have tingled, craving to taste his mouth on mine.
None of those things should have happened—with a stranger, no less. A stranger who might not even be single.
Desire wasn’t alone under the hotel chandeliers, their lightbulbs twinkling like stars. Hanging out with it was regret. Regret in knowing that Stephen was looking down from heaven and shaking his head at me, disappointed that the stranger I wanted to kiss under the mistletoe wasn’t on the list of approved men he’d jokingly created.
“Brittany mentioned you’re an elementary schoolteacher,” Lucinda said.
I nodded and smiled warmly at the thought of my students. “That’s right. I teach second grade.”
“Oh, such a delightful age. My great-granddaughter is in that grade. Such a precocious little thing, just like her father was at that age.”
My gaze flicked to Grayson, but he gave no indication the child belonged to him. So maybe she was his niece.
He chuckled, drawing my attention to his mouth. Don’t look at his mouth. Look away from his… “I’m sure her father will be thrilled you said that. I know for a fact that he took great pride in keeping you on your toes.”
She flashed him her perfectly straight, angel-white teeth. “I daresay you’re right.”
“And what about you?” I asked Grayson. “What do you do for a living?”
“This and that” was his non-answer.
Truth? I sort of appreciated that he was evading the question like a spy at a royal tea party. I preferred the mystery surrounding him. It made him even sexier—not that he needed help in that department as far as I could tell.
“Brittany also mentioned you live in San Francisco,” Lucinda said to me.
For a masked ball, where our identities were a secret, my sister was certainly spilling the jelly beans when it came to all there was to know about me.
Please tell me you never mentioned my deceased husband.
“That’s right,” I said.
“She mentioned you used to live in Boston—”
I sensed she was going to say more, but Grayson coughed as though clearing his throat, and her words came to an abrupt halt.
She threw him a subtle smirk. He gave a barely perceptible shake of his head.
“Do you live in San Francisco?” I asked him. My tone was edged with a curiosity I shouldn’t have felt. I really didn’t want to know anything about him. If I found out too much, the magic of the moment would be reduced to glitter.
“No, Chicago.” His deep, sexy voice left my insides quivering like leaves caught in a stiff breeze.
“That’s quite the drive just to attend the ball.”
“You might say I happened to be in the neighborhood, and my grandmother asked if I would attend as her date.”
Aww, that’s so sweet.
“My poor Alfred died ten years ago from testicular cancer,” Lucinda explained, “which is why this charity event is important to me. And why awareness and early detection is vital.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said to them both, praying Brittany didn’t decide this was a good time to inform them about my dead husband.
Luckily, she remained silent on the topic.
“Thank you, my dear,” Lucinda said. “I was fortunate to have a supportive family and friends to help me get through it. And you know the best part?”
I shook my head, clueless at what it could be.
“Just because you lose someone you loved doesn’t mean you’ll never love again.” She winked at me, confirming she did know the truth. What else had my dear sweet sister shared? My social security number? “I found a new prince, and I’m just as much in love with him as I was with my sweet Alfred.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” My words had more to do with her falling in love with someone new than the chance of that happening to me again.
I shifted on my feet and twisted toward the orchestra, now playing a new piece.
I could almost imagine Cinderella and Prince Charming waltzing to the music with the other couples dancing.
“Would you like to dance?” The question was a low murmur against my ear, and my insides quivered once again, in a way that would make a bowl of Jell-O envious.
2
Logan
The blue-eyed, blonde beauty had turned to the dance floor, where couples were moving in time to the music. Some clearly knew how to waltz—unlike me.
I was a hockey player, not a dancer. But that hadn’t stopped me from asking Kiera if she wanted to dance. I’d sensed she wanted to escape my grandmother’s questioning as much as I did.
This wasn’t the first time I’d met Kiera. Her husband, Stephen Ashdown, had been both my teammate
in college and best friend.
The last time I’d seen her was at his funeral a year ago.
And Christ, she still looked as beautiful as she had back then. Beautiful, but not as sad.
How did I know she was the same Kiera I’d met in college?
I’d seen her checking into the hotel with a man a few hours ago. Although at the time, I hadn’t realized he was her brother-in-law.
The unnamed emotion I’d experienced when I saw her with the man I thought was her new boyfriend hadn’t been alone. Shock, excitement, desire had all been its teammates, along with unease. The unease felt when you’re slammed into the boards during a game, and you pray you haven’t just exacerbated a previous injury.