Thawing Ava (3 page)

Fate had given him a chance to prove that her faith in him was justified. He just hoped what her father and Alexi had said wouldn’t color her judgment too much.

Chapter Two

The next day found Ava standing in front of Brice’s apartment waiting for him to come home. He’d insisted on meeting her to show her around the place they’d be sharing, and work out a schedule to allow them both to feel as if they could live in the same space without killing each other. Nice offer. She wasn’t sure how this was going to go between them, living under the same roof, being in close quarters again. Just like Christmas. She could still remember the disappointment she’d tasted when he hadn’t returned her calls after break. It had taken all her courage to call him. She had mulled over every word, even written it down like a dork. Her hand had shook when she’d dialed the frat house and waited for someone to pick up. It had been a relief when Davis had answered. He claimed he’d get the message to Brice immediately, no questions asked. After that, nothing. She’d see Brice walking around the quad, arm slung over the shoulder of one of the cheerleader set, laughing, smiling, walking with her brother. The sting of humiliation made her use the long way back to her dorm or go out of her way to avoid the frat house, even turning down party invites from her brother. Brice had graduated that year, same as Davis. Now she was confronted with him as an adult, and she wasn’t sure if her memory of him or his actions today indicated that he’d felt the same way she had back then or if she was imagining things. So much had changed for them over the years.

A sense of sadness crept up on her when she thought of all those years when she’d stopped watching the game. She and Davis used to love going to games and talking shop at the table. Now she was forced to buy a
Hockey for Dummies
book to reacquaint her rusty brain with the rules, positions, and plays. Some stuff came back to her; others were lost in her mind along with old cartoon shows and which boys she thought were cute and she’d die if they didn’t talk to her or acknowledge her existence. That other stuff wasn’t important. Making sure she understood hockey and all its rules was. It not only allowed her to bond with her father once more, but it would be nice to talk to Brice about something, anything, since this was the sport he loved. That and discussing the current state of hockey wouldn’t lead to sex. She remembered them watching a game during Christmas break together along with the few times she’d managed to get up the nerve to say hi whenever she’d see him with Davis off campus. He was so invested in the game he refused to get up to go to the bathroom until the commercial. Too bad DVR hadn’t been invented by then. Instead he’d had to use a VCR, check the programming over and over again, and keep the TV on the same channel when the game came on. Ah, the good old days.

He hadn’t had to explain the game to her; she’d gotten the gist of things, but it had been so cozy, just the two of them, sharing ginger ale for his still delicate stomach and popcorn.

Now he was back in her life, and it was Christmastime once again. The world must hate her to push them together like this. In college he hadn’t seemed that woman obsessed, but ever since he’d made a pro team, he’d become some sort of “Lady Killer,” as the press had dubbed him.

Ava knew all about lady killers—her ex had been one; so charming a woman couldn’t resist him. He could talk the panties off a girl within minutes of meeting her but wouldn’t stay loyal if his life depended on it. She didn’t want to think of Brice as that, but what if he really was like Perry? She wasn’t sure how to change Brice’s attitude, but she knew that he needed her if her father had to bring her in to fix his problems. Her father had trusted her to help him when he’d coached peewee hockey, so she had some experience in wrangling boys to an extent. And she’d taken care of her aunt’s café whenever her aunt had gotten ill or needed a break. She supposed that would help her.

Ava checked her watch. Practice had been over for at least fifteen minutes. Where was Brice? The arena wasn’t that far from the apartment building. Traffic wasn’t too heavy in this area, which was surrounded by shops and pubs and restaurants. She’d checked it out online. The building he lived in had spaces available starting at five thousand a pop for a two-bedroom. Upper floors cost more and had more space available. Her mother had told her Brice lived on the twelfth floor, which meant he had a three-bedroom, two-and-a-half-bath apartment that included one bedroom in a loft area, an office/study, an open-air layout, a fully stocked kitchen, and a living-room area. As a resident, he had access to all three of the pools, one Olympic-sized, the gym, spa, and steam room. He could also take advantage of the laundry, pet walking, and maid services offered.

Working-class people couldn’t afford to live here, but according to the gossip rags, Brice come from money and had inherited his personal wealth but didn’t flaunt it around, which was nice. He drove an SUV he’d had for over five years and had simple suits that didn’t exactly keep up with the latest trends. He gave a lot of time to charity and talked with the peewee teams in the area. He seemed like a down-to-earth, nice guy; his only issue was with women and partying. Hopefully she could make sure he kept it in his pants and she wouldn’t lose her heart all over again. Her father was counting on her. Hell, she was counting on herself.

Ava had looked over the team’s stats. Alexi had been right; they had a real shot at the play-offs. Two losses and one tie in the season so far. Both times they’d lost, it had been Brice’s fault, missed passes and shots and even a high amount of penalties, which led to time in the box. Somehow she had to get him to refocus his efforts. It seemed that when he went to a club, that’s where he met the women who fucked with his concentration. First rule, no clubbing. And since she hated clubs in general, she doubted he’d be able to convince her to go to one. She was twenty-nine, not eighteen. It felt silly to have hung on to her feelings for so long. She thought she’d gotten over him. All it took was one look, and she’d felt that spark again. There was more going on in her life right now—well, not
right
now—there were more important things.

Last night, after the meeting at her father’s office, she’d had a talk with her parents about Perry and possibly moving up to Witch Fields for good. Once she started her babysitting gig, she would need to start making plans for herself while Brice was at practice. She needed to pound the pavement and look for a job in a restaurant, bakery, or café. She wanted her own business in the food industry one day, and working from the bottom up all over again would help reinforce what she had to do. She needed a job that would allow her to play babysitter to Brice when practice was over. Ava would be able to work longer hours once the season ended.
At least I have a lot to keep my mind occupied enough to resist Brice’s possible advances
. But none of that could happen if he didn’t show up.

What is taking him so long?

She studied the hallway, which was painted a soothing taupe color, with live potted plants here and there and a few abstract art pieces on the walls. A floor-to-ceiling pair of windows let in light and showed off a great view of the downtown area. There were only four other apartments on the floor, which spoke of how much space had been invested in each suite of rooms. From the pictures on the Web site, a tenant could get furnished or unfurnished depending on their taste and needs. She wished she could afford to live here. Most of her budget would deal with finding a place and moving her stuff up to Witch Fields; whatever was left over would go to storage and getting anything she hadn’t been able to keep back. The creak of the stairwell door put her on alert. She turned around and looked over at the entryway, hoping it was Brice and that she wouldn’t have to stand out in the corridor for much longer. Ava felt awkward about just waiting or pacing for him.

Brice appeared with a ball cap low on his forehead, hiding his auburn hair. He had a neatly trimmed beard covering his high cheekbones. He wore a dark blue parka and well-worn jeans with a few places so thin they looked like they’d rip any day now. He had thick-soled work boots that had seen better times, with mud-splattered toes and washed-out patches on the suede. Brice carried a huge duffel bag with him.

He didn’t look up, just continued to nod his head as he walked. Ava took some time to study him. Brice moved with that smooth grace he’d always had, confident on terra firma and the ice. Broad shoulders were defined despite the slight puff of the jacket. She could see his trim waist, and the denim molded to his muscular thighs and calves. As he approached, she saw his fingernails were manicured.

He looked up, and she sucked in a breath as his green gaze met hers. A small smile formed on his lips, and she found it difficult to take in air much less not return the gesture. She tried to ignore the dampness of her palms. Her pussy fluttered as he drew closer, and her heartbeat picked up. She tried to swallow, but her mouth felt dry.

His smile grew to a grin that showed off his straight white teeth. For the first time in her life she found a beard on a man sexy. Her heart hammered against her rib cage as she thought about feeling that scruff on her inner thighs and her sex.

Ava shifted from one foot to the other as the ache between her legs increased. She licked her lips and brushed loose strands of her hair behind her ears. Ava looked down as the heat in her face increased to become a prickling fire. She felt awkward and unkempt. Even though she hadn’t dressed up to meet him, she’d kept her style casual.

“Hey!” Brice put his bag on the ground, leaned down and wrapped his arms around her, picked her up, and held her close in a bear hug that sent her thoughts into disarray and set her body on fire. Through the thick padding of his jacket, she could feel his solid frame. Her hips bumped his, and there was definitely something happy to see her. She gave in and melted against him for a bit, allowing the cold on his clothes to cool some of her ardor. It didn’t work. Her father’s words came back to bite her.
“Brice has got so much talent. I want him focused, and I want his head out of his ass. You’re no-nonsense. You can keep him on the straight and narrow, and with your…”
Her thoughts stalled.

Crap.

She wriggled in his arms, but he only tightened his grasp and placed a kiss on her cheek. His beard scratched her skin, sending tendrils of arousal straight to her pussy. A giggle formed in her throat, but she refused to let it out. Her lips turned traitor and curled upward.

Her brain betrayed her, and she began to wonder if it felt this good on her cheek… No no no! she admonished herself. “Um, Brice, can you put me down? You’re cold.” Sad excuse, not even true. With her jacket on, she was warm. She felt like she’d stepped into a steam room. Her body heat spiked, and her clothes began to chafe her skin. The idea of stripping down to cool off was tempting, but she doubted that would help keep Brice in line. Or make a good impression with any of his neighbors.

“Oops, sorry.” He placed her on her feet with care, but he still had a smile on his sensual lips. “I’m so glad you’re here, and that it’s you and not someone else. You do remember me, right?” Worry clouded his green eyes. Tension radiated from his body, making her uneasy.

“Yeah. College, Christmas, hockey, Davis’s frat brother.” She bobbed her head and looked down at the floor so as not to fall deep into his dark emerald eyes with those beautiful gold flecks. She nodded toward his duffel bag. “Need help?”

Brice shook his head, the smile back on his lips, albeit not as bright or welcoming, more reserved, wary. “No, no, I got it.” He dug his keys out of his jacket pocket, unlocked and opened the door, and allowed her to precede him. “After you, milady.”

She chuckled and entered, only to stop close to the entryway. The open space was overwhelming. The kitchen, dining area, living room, and bedroom all shared the first floor; a circular staircase led up to a loft area. High ceilings with exposed beams made her feel small. It didn’t help that there was so much white. Tall, bright white walls blinded her. Black leather furniture and dark wood tables were arranged tastefully around the room. It was so simple it was almost a showplace. The only things that screamed Brice were the framed pictures of hockey greats on the wall and a massive plasma-screen TV.

“Who lives here?” She moved farther into the room.

He chuckled. “How could you tell? I moved in a few years ago, already furnished with basic pieces, and I let them decorate it for me, but I didn’t add much of myself in here. No time.” Brice carried his bag into the room, brought it to a door in the kitchen area. He opened the door and went inside. She could see a washer and dryer along with several shelves. A pantry. Feeling nosy, she moseyed on over and peeked inside. She admired the stainless-steel appliances. Her inner clean freak purred at the top-of-the-line equipment.

“Stop drooling over my washer and dryer. And no, you can’t kidnap my kitchen.” He gave her the devilish grin that made her knees turn to jelly and her stomach flip.

She turned around to check out what he’d been talking about. “Goddamnit!” Ava rushed over to the built-in double oven, six-burner stove top, dishwasher, and double sink with stainless-steel handles. The cabinets were black, but with the brushed-steel handles they actually looked sexy. “I think I’ve just had a kitchen orgasm. Well, a mini one,” she corrected herself. “This is a nice start but not my dream kitchen.” She ran her fingers lovingly over the black granite tops. The smooth stone felt almost silky.

“What would you call a dream kitchen?” he asked from behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder to find his focus on her ass. Hiding a grin, she moved away to check out his French-door-style refrigerator. No use encouraging him, even if she felt a flutter of excitement in her stomach. She opened the door and used it to shield her body.

“First and foremost a premium coffeemaker—I need my coffee, no excuses—two six-burner stoves, and of course a professional-grade, best slow cooker on the market, an immersion blender, two sets of double ovens, convection oven to do roasts, a smoker, flat-top grill, walk-in fridge and freezer. Basically top-of-the-line everything with dark wood cabinets, brushed-steel handles, granite countertops, and cork flooring for easy cleaning. Oh and an ice cream maker. That’s just a few of the things in my dream kitchen.”