Home Ice (8 page)

“So,” he said, once he caught his breath. “I thought this would be a good place to practice the jump.”

“I thought these stress breaks were to get our minds
off
of that stuff. I haven’t tried it since the last time you watched, and—”

He hopped onto her trampoline square, held on to her for balance, and kissed her mid-sentence. It was so unexpected, she didn’t react for a few seconds. And then she reacted a lot. Yearning swirled in her belly while fireflies fluttered in her chest. Dizziness made her sway, so she held onto his biceps. His really big biceps. Her reservations about him had nothing to do with a lack of chemistry. Honestly, it’d been torture spending so much time with him and not acting on the hundred impulses per hour to see if his lips were as soft as they looked.

They were.

The adorkable guy was gone, replaced with a guy who
knew
what to do with his hands but didn’t take any liberties. His kiss was gentle. Sweet. And when he leaned back, his brows rose in half-apology, half-inquiry.
Was that okay?

“It’s not fair. I should want to slap you. Instead, I want to pinch your cheeks.”

He grinned. “That’s all?”

“I didn’t say that was all.” She went up on tiptoes—not easy on a trampoline—to brush another light kiss against his lips. His arms slid around her waist, and while he kissed her back with definite interest, there was no insistence. What would it be like to drive him so wild he reached the edge of his saintly patience and gave in to passion? That thought was so hot, it scorched her from the inside out. It also made her feel guilty. Dylan was so polite, such a gentleman, and those were
good
things. It just made her curious about his bad side. If he had one.

He bumped his nose against hers. His peppermint breath was warm against her lips. “Now let me see the jump.”

She blinked. What jump?
Oh
. Well, now pride was involved. Even if she fell, it wouldn’t hurt nearly as badly as it did on ice. And showing off had some appeal. “Right, the jump.” It might be tough with Jell-O for legs, but that was his fault. There were bigger trampolines ahead, so she bounded over, shrieking and laughing at the learning curve of how much power to put behind a bounce. With enough space, she practiced getting the height right. Then one rotation. Then two.

“Let me see three!”

“You sound like my coach!” And that was the final push, really. More than anything, the thought of nailing the jump in front of Val spurred her on. She jumped and spun once, twice, three times … and over-rotated. Instead of landing on flat feet, she landed on her heels and fell back into the trampoline-lined wall only to bounce forward onto her hands and knees.

Dylan was at her side so fast he must have flown. He helped her up and held her hands, looking her over. “Are you okay? Did you hurt anything?”

She could have snapped her ankle into a hundred pieces and not felt a thing, the way he was looking at her. Like she was the only person in the universe. The only thing that mattered. But she’d seen him around other people. He treated everyone he cared about that way. “I’m fine. It was scary for a minute, but fun, too. Really fun. I kind of want to hurl myself at it again and just ricochet all over the room.”

That unreserved grin came back. “Well, let’s do it!” He took off, running, jumping, tumbling, and she raced to follow. If this was a relationship, maybe it wasn’t the big, scary thing that would get in the way of her dream. At the moment, her dream was the big, scary thing. Dylan, she could count on.

Friday, October 17th

Normally, being summoned to Saralynn’s office only gave Dylan a mild stomachache. It wasn’t like being called in front of Jacey, the owner, though to be fair, Jacey was really nice. She’d agreed to go with him to his first bachelor auction so he wouldn’t have to walk into the ballroom alone. He’d been eighteen then and new to the team’s annual meat market for charity. Jacey’d helped keep him from passing out, and he’d helped her see how much Carter was into her. Four years, and Dylan was still trying to get out of that man’s shadow as captain. Or maybe he was hiding in Carter’s shadow, afraid to cast his own.

That thought was too deep for a Friday morning before coffee. Especially after a week of more embarrassing losses. The team was starting out the season in a hole, and no matter what Kally or Lori said, it was his fault. That’s why it could only be bad that the Sinners’ head of PR wanted to talk to him first thing before the team flew to Dallas for Saturday’s game.

He slunk into Saralynn’s office but tried to look casual. Talking to her professionally was more complicated now that she was officially
with
his best friend and roommate. Especially since she just about lived with them. Boundaries were blurred. Not that Saralynn was big on boundaries anyway. She had the energy of a little kid and the willpower of a hockey player.
Nothing
was off limits if it fit her goal. That was both reassuring and terrifying.

“What’s up?”

Saralynn had a disarming smile, but it was usually on purpose. Something he best keep in mind. “Have a seat.”

No matter who said them, those three words had never been a good thing. Suddenly, skipping breakfast had a silver lining. Nothing to throw up. He lowered himself into the chair facing her desk and sat back. Maybe if he acted like nothing was wrong, she’d roll with it.

She had a pen in her hand paused over a pad of paper. “How’re you doing?”

A friendly question, but it felt like an interview.

“I’m … confused.”

She dropped the pen and folded her hands on the desk, turning up the wattage of her smile.

Danger. Danger.

“Sorry. I was working on something. I just wanted to check in with you. We haven’t really talked in a while. I know I’m at the house a lot, but I feel like I’m totally out of the loop on you.”

Okay. Definitely weird. Saralynn had a big heart buried under her work ethic, but she didn’t schedule meetings to catch up. With anyone. If you were one of the handful of people she loved, she made time for you. Out of the office. He’d been on the periphery since she’d been dating Madden, but more and more, the two were spending their time alone. Could she honestly just want to catch up? Part of him felt guilty for looking for a motive. The other part kept an eye open. “Not much different, I guess. Trying to get back into the swing of things.”

“Right. Anything new outside the rink? I ask Madden for updates, but he doesn’t want to break bro code.”

“Uh …” He spent all his time outside the rink with Lori. Is that what she was going after? If she just wanted girl gossip, that was safe. A decent distraction from talking to her about his game. “Well, I have been kind of seeing someone.”

“I knew it! It’s Lorelai Kelly, isn’t it? Of course. That makes so much sense.”

It did? And why did it look like she was talking to herself?

She must have read his expression. “I mean, of course it makes sense. Superstar hockey player and a superstar figure skater. They write movies about that kind of thing. Just promise me you won’t leave us for toe picks and Spandex.”

Saralynn had a habit of talking so fast it made heads spin. Almost like she wanted to hide the important part of information in a chatter tornado, hoping you’d focus on a shiny piece of dialogue debris. Most of what she said was only decipherable after a few seconds of processing, and while it still felt like a distraction tactic, he couldn’t find her angle. “No, I’m not leaving hockey.” And superstar? Not lately. He looked down at his wrist reflexively, afraid of the phantom hair band, and rubbed where it used to be.

“Good to know. Well, you’ve got a plane to catch, and I don’t want Nealy blaming
me
if the MIP doesn’t make it.”

“MIP?”

“Most important player. Don’t tell my brother I said that.”

Jesus.
“I wouldn’t say I’m the most important player.”

“That’s what makes you you, Cole. Don’t ever change.”

His temples throbbed, and a run sounded really good, but he’d only be running to make the plane. Wait. This catch-up had been pretty one-sided. “Hey. You’re right; we haven’t talked in a while. How are things with you and Mad?”

Genuine shock wasn’t something you saw regularly on Saralynn, and it was kind of funny. Like she’d forgotten her cover story. But what was she covering? “Oh, we’re great. You know, sometimes it feels like we go days without seeing each other, but we’re good. Has he said otherwise?” The concern in her eyes made him feel like a jerk for doubting her.

“No, not at all. He seems happy, too.” That was an understatement. When they did hang out, Madden’s main topic of conversation was Saralynn and how he wanted to take things to the next step but didn’t want to spook her. And because Dylan wanted to stay completely out of that, he kept his mouth shut. He stood and paused at the door. “Thanks, for … this.” Whatever it was.

“Thanks for stopping in. And good luck in Dallas.”

“Yep.” He’d need more than good luck.

Saturday, October 18th

Lori rolled out of bed before the sun. The Sinners were on the road. That meant she could sneak in some extra personal training time before show practice. She turned her alarm off before it had a chance to beep, but a flashing light on her phone caught her eye. Maybe a text from Dylan? She swiped her thumb across the screen and frowned. Five texts. Five voicemails. Her heart dropped into her stomach. What if something had happened to her parents? Her sister?

Only one call from her mom. “Lorelai, you’re dating a hockey player? Are you sure that’s a good idea, honey? It’s probably best to focus on training right now anyway. Call me if you need to talk. Love you.”

Two texts from Tori.

followed by

Just the usual envy. No mention of their dad, so her family was okay. But how did they find out?

The rest were from Dylan. Even though her brain was still sleep fogged, something felt wrong. She read the texts first.

Immediately awake with a
really
bad feeling, she scrolled down.

Oh, God. What could it be? Were there rumors he was dating around? Got caught with a showgirl? With drugs?

All this before she’d even woken up. Her family was on the East Coast and didn’t always remember or respect time zones, and Dylan would be two hours ahead in Dallas. Her finger hovered over the voicemail play button. Instead, she went back to her phone’s home screen and opened the Internet. If it was this bad, she didn’t want to know. But she had to.

Twitter first. What the hell? Thousands of messages. Many from followers expressing their shock and telling her she deserved better than that.
Than what?
Other messages were from complete strangers saying really horrible things to her in 140 characters or less if she was the one taking Dylan’s head out of the game.
What?
Where was this coming from? Credible news sources didn’t start these kinds of rumors, but entertainment segments might pick them up on a slow day.

She typed her name and Dylan’s into Google, clicked Videos, and found a snippet from E! Jason Kennedy filled her screen looking polished and way too happy. “Reports are saying that Las Vegas Sinners captain Dylan Cole has been dating figure skating princess Lorelai Kelly.” Footage played of her waving at the Sinners’ home opener. “A source close to Cole says the budding relationship could be to blame for Cole’s lackluster start to the season. Sinners fans can breathe a sigh of relief knowing it’s nothing more serious than a love bug keeping their captain from his usual impressive play.”

Lori hit pause and closed her eyes. He was blaming her for his slump? His texts denied it, but … it made sense. Business sense. He needed the world off his back for underperforming. Why not blame it on a girl?
Of course
the prince of hockey couldn’t be responsible for his own bad play. It didn’t match up with the guy she’d been getting to know, but maybe she’d never known him at all. They’d only been seeing each other for about a month.

She let the phone fall onto the bed, picked up a pillow, and threw it across the room.
This is what I get. I knew better
. While part of her felt vindicated for being wary and slow to give in to his charm, she’d still given in. The rest of her just hurt. But wallowing wasn’t the answer. If she’d learned one thing throughout her whole life again and again, it was to settle everything on the ice.

• • •

The Las Vegas Arena rink was silent. Or it would be if it weren’t for the furious scrape of her blades as she skated with speed, power, and determination. There was some heavy breathing and the occasional grunt of frustration, but they were all coming from her. She’d been going over her long program on loop for two hours. Texting Val before leaving her apartment had actually drawn him to watch. For the first hour, he’d commented here and there, and his words had sunk in, but she hadn’t really been paying attention. It was more like after years and years of working with him, she knew what he’d say, and the criticisms seeped in through osmosis. She adapted accordingly. And she nailed that triple axel. Twice. Apparently fury was just as good a motivator as hormones. There’d come a point when Val was happy and would tell her to take a break.

Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.

She hadn’t even noticed when he left; she’d just kept skating. It wasn’t until the adrenaline from her anger had burned off that exhaustion started to settle in. She skated to the wall of the players’ bench, leaned a hip against it, and picked up her water bottle. Her hand trembled. She was still mad. Really mad. No one in as long as she could remember had made her this upset. She’d never let people close enough to have that kind of power.

Dylan had breezed past her defenses. He’d been too good to be true. Maybe men were all the same. Athletes just came with bigger egos, and she’d let her guard down with a man who should have an ego the size of the moon. He hadn’t appeared to have one at all. That’s what was so attractive about him. But people changed when things got hard. Hadn’t the last year taught her that?