Love In Moments: An opposites attract hockey romance (Love Distilled Book 2)

by Scarlett Cole

  Reluctantly, he trudged to the gym, pulled up the game clips on the laptop he’d hooked up to his TV. He watched the first period while he pedaled his tired legs to get rid of the lactic acid buildup.

  He watched play after play. There were moments with Wyatt and Theo that he felt were in sync, but for the most part they weren’t.

  His speed was lacking. And there were a couple of attempts on goal that were almost embarrassing. An average person wouldn’t have been able to tell how deep his frustration had run. He hadn’t acquired the nickname Iceberg for nothing. But tapping his stick on the ice three times after a play was his tell, and he remembered all over again just how pissed off he’d been.

  By the end of the third period, he’d stretched his limbs and made notes on his phone of things to work on with his line. There was just enough time for breakfast and a quick shower before he headed to the training facility. He inhaled the oatmeal while his steak and eggs cooked. Just as he put his bowl on the table, the doorbell rang.

  “Hey,” Olivia said, holding out a basket. “I was on my way back from the web developer’s office and I thought I’d see if you were home and bring you pastry treats.”

  She stepped up to him and pressed her lips to his, but he pulled back quickly.

  Coach. Training. Two fucking losses in a row.

  He couldn’t let her distract him, as tempting as she looked in a pale pink scarf wrapped around her neck, and fingerless gloves in the same shade. “Thanks, but I already made breakfast. And I have to leave for training soon.”

  Thirty minutes. It wasn’t enough time to spend with her.

  He couldn’t think about the look of surprise that she quickly hid.

  “Well, okay,” she said. “I just wanted to say thanks for the food you had delivered. It was unnecessary but appreciated. Natalie and I shared some of it—there was so much.”

  “You’re welcome.” He glanced back in the direction of the kitchen, hoping his steak hadn’t burned. “Sorry, I have food on the grill.”

  “Oh. Okay. Well, here.” Olivia handed him the wicker basket with red gingham napkins and brown bags filled with who-knew-what, but they smelled delicious. “Call me later?”

  He hated that there was a question mark at the end of her sentence. But perhaps coach had been right. During the home game streak, he’d been distracted instead of focused.

  By her.

  Target, hiking, thinking about her and having sex with her. Messaging with her while he’d been on the road. Even when he wasn’t with her he’d been thinking about her. About the way she’d come apart in his arms. How hot it had been to watch her when—

  “Yeah. Sure. Thanks for stopping by.” He needed to think about the game.

  Uncertainty etched her features as she took a step back. “Is everything okay? I saw the score and wondered if—”

  “Honestly, Liv. I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind and a training session to get to.”

  “Okay. I get it. No, I understand.”

  Without another word, she walked back to her car and climbed inside. Anders closed the door before she backed off the drive.

  Dick move.

  A small voice knew he could have explained it better. But that would have taken time. And words. And nuance. And fuck, his eggs had gone cold. He dropped them in the trash and rustled up a fresh batch after he’d dropped the steak back in the skillet to keep it warm.

  Training didn’t go much better. The team had gotten together to dissect the game beforehand, watching replay after replay. Thankfully, the coach assigned blame throughout the team, but it didn’t make Anders feel much better.

  Then on the ice, there was friction. Mistimed plays. Rookie mistakes made by players who should know better. Even the mild-mannered Leo Salo had almost dropped gloves with his center, Jacob Miller.

  “Fuck, I wish we hadn’t lost Peterson and Reeves,” the coach said as Anders pivoted by the bench. The words were like ice water thrown in his face. Peterson had been in the same situation as Anders. Like him, Peterson had been an early draft pick with an expiring contract and had already received the offer of a lifetime from Pittsburgh, his hometown. The kid had wanted to leave, the Rush knew he wasn’t going to stay, and Pittsburgh was willing to pay. He’d signed the contract extension they’d offered him and was now playing in front of his parents at every home game.

  And Reeves was out with a concussion after sliding headfirst into the boards. Anders knew he was on borrowed time, but to hear the coach lament the loss of the two centers right in front of him stung more than it should have.

  “Right. I’ve had enough of this,” Coach yelled. “Lightning drills. Now. Everybody to the goal line. Max effort or take your sorry asses back to the locker room.”

  Skating from the goal line to the redline then the blue line, to center ice . . . all the way up the ice and back down was a fucking insult to them all and they knew it. Over and over they skated, back and forth, until they’d started to go down. Forshev, the goalie, had made it to the boards before he puked. Quebecois Christian Bisset had yelled expletives in French, and Felix Campbell had wiped out somewhere at the other end of the ice and was crawling back to the goal.

  “Get your fucking asses back on the ice and fucking skate like you actually want to win a fucking cup,” Coach yelled.

  Forshev wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his jersey as Anders put his hand out to Felix to get him back on his feet and skating. Giving him a solid shove for good measure, Anders skated for the start line.

  Anders focused. Fire burned through every sinew, his calf muscles felt like they were about to detach from the bone, and his lungs screamed for oxygen, but there was no way he was going down. Up and down the ice. Seconds dragged into minutes. Time slowed down. The goal line got progressively further away.

  What he wouldn’t give for water.

  But coach was making a point, and Anders wanted him to understand that he got it.

  “Right, sit your asses down on the bench before you fall down,” Coach shouted.

  No one said a word as they resumed their seats. Mostly because they were all too gassed to speak, but also because, finally, their minds were clear and, for the most part, had let go of whatever aggression they’d felt.

  The coach marched behind them while they all sat facing the ice. Nobody turned around. “We didn’t play as a team last night. Hell, we played like we didn’t even know each other in San Jose. Now isn’t the time to get complacent, guys. We play like that when we play Detroit tomorrow, and we’ll get our asses handed to us. Now, get some fluids, take a minute, then we’re going back on the ice and you’re going to practice like the team I know you can be.”

  After the session, Anders pedaled on the bike while Karl stepped on the treadmill for a steady jog. No one had the energy to speak to anyone else. They’d fallen out of form at the pinnacle of the season. Their assured spot in the playoffs was now more of an option than a certainty. And as Anders processed the game, one thought came to him. The only difference to their form was the loss of their two centers and his arrival.

  He was the weak link in their chain. Instead of trying to make a mark, he should have tried to seamlessly fall into the place left wide open.

  Fuck, he was an idiot.

  He needed footage of how his predecessors had played their lines, see the impact they had in the game, see what roles they fulfilled to see if he could mimic that and give the team a chance to find their flow again.

  Research was his strong point. He could figure it out.

  But he felt as though he owed the team an apology.

  And the team wasn’t the only one he owed an apology to.

  Olivia.

  Damn, her face when she’d left that morning. The look of confusion. She was a breath of fresh air to his storm clouds, and he’d blown her off.

  It was him.

  It wasn’t fair to dither.

  Karl’s phone rang. Anders watched as his brother took one look at the screen and, after pr
essing the stop button on the treadmill, answered it. He wiped his face with the towel, and then his whole face transformed from the scowl he’d worn since he stepped off the ice. His shoulders dropped, tension easing out of them. Finally, he smiled and hung up.

  He stepped off the treadmill and moved to the workout board.

  “You okay?” Anders asked.

  “Yeah,” he nodded.

  “The call?”

  “Sarah. She always knows exactly the right thing to say.”

  Anders grinned. “About the game?”

  Karl laughed. “No. She doesn’t care about the game. She always thinks I did a great job. But she always knows the right thing to say to me.”

  His thoughts went back to Olivia.

  “How’s Olivia?” Karl asked as if reading his mind.

  “I think I fucked up,” Anders admitted quietly as other players joined them in the gym.

  Karl folded his arms. “During the game? I think we all did.”

  “No. With Liv. She came around this morning, and I basically sent her away so I could focus on training and stuff.”

  Anders reached for his towel and wiped his face, thinking of how Olivia had picked the towels for his home gym, towels he used every day that weren’t as rough as the one currently itching his skin.

  “Dude,” Karl said. “Dick move.”

  Anders took a deep breath before answering. “You don’t understand.”

  “So try me. What’s going on?”

  With a huff, he stepped off the bike. “I slept with her the night of your wedding.”

  Karl raised an eyebrow. “That explains why you were late to my house on Christmas morning.”

  “Yeah, well. She wasn’t there when I woke up in the morning. It was meant to be just one night. How the hell was I supposed to know I’d get traded here weeks later?”

  “So, what gives now?”

  He slung the towel around his neck and tugged on the ends. “Valentine’s Day, after the game. She was at the club. Anyway, we reconnected, but this is the worst fucking time.”

  Karl chugged some of his water and screwed the lid back on in a measured way. “Relationships aren’t something that only happen in the good times. There’s never a perfect time to get involved with someone. Sometimes you meet them at the worst possible time so they can help you navigate it.”

  Anders shook his head. “I’m going to be traded at the end of the season. Is it fair to her or me to start something knowing I’m going to leave?”

  His brother scowled. “You’re making some really big assumptions there, little brother. You could still be here, and maybe she’ll want to leave. Hell, why are you even looking that far ahead?”

  Karl was right, but somehow all the thoughts about his future and Olivia were all messed up. “I like her. Like, really like her. A lot. But, my career has never been more on a knife-edge, and you and I both know it’s not been smooth sailing landing here.”

  “This isn’t about Ines is it? I mean, I know how much that shit messed you up.”

  Anders shook his head. For some reason, he implicitly trusted Olivia. There was something about her that struck him as loyal. Loyal to her family. Loyal to their distillery. “No. This is different.”

  “Then let Liv be there for you. I like her.” Karl placed his hand on Anders’s shoulder and squeezed it firmly. “Are you really intent on leaving Denver after the contract ends?”

  Anders looked around the gym. He didn’t think Wyatt and Theo were close enough to hear. “This isn’t the time or place for that conversation.”

  “Fine. Then go shower and go fix things with Liv.”

  Fix things with Liv.

  He’d let her down at the first fucking hurdle.

  He could only hope she’d forgive him.

  Olivia glanced down at her planner to the three goals she’d set herself for the day. The first had been to handle the call she’d gotten the previous evening, from the printer of the labels for the Dyer’s Vintage launch informing her of a production delay.

  The second had been a conference call with a wedding dress designer who had seen pictures of Karl and Sarah’s wedding in Simply Weddings and wanted to use the distillery as a backdrop for the photography of her latest collection. It was an unexpected revenue stream Olivia hadn’t considered, and she was excited to see what other possibilities might come from it. Movie locations, modeling shoots. She wasn’t sure how to go about setting that up, but once her day was done, she’d give it some thought.

  Next up was the final thing on the list. A review of the marketing budget with Emerson. Olivia understood the need for every department to tighten their belt, but she needed her sister to see that the sales lift Emerson also expected couldn’t be achieved by the budget Emerson had set. Something would have to give. Financials were Emerson’s strong suit. And Olivia’s doubts about her right to ask for more crept in.

  In spite of her work concerns, Olivia picked up her phone and there was still nothing from Anders. It had been hours since she’d seen him that morning. Surely, he could have found a few minutes to contact her. She debated sending him a quick text message and even started typing. But indecision over whether to say hi or hello had her slamming the phone down.

  Was he ghosting her?

  “Asshole,” she muttered.

  “Who pissed you off?” Emerson asked, placing her laptop on the spare table in Olivia’s office. Her sister’s pin-straight hair was pulled back from her face.

  Olivia debated not telling Emerson the truth, but Olivia had been hurt when she’d found out Emerson had been dating Connor and hadn’t told her.

  “Anders. I met a guy, Em.”

  Emerson pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down, her face unreadable. “Tell me about him.”

  “I met him at the wedding. He’s the brother of the groom. He was playing in Phoenix but got traded to Denver.”

  “You’re dating a hockey player?” Emerson’s eyes were wide.

  Olivia shrugged. “I’m not sure right now.”

  “The asshole?”

  Olivia groaned and leaned back in her chair. “We reconnected on Valentine’s. He’s . . . damn, I like him a lot. We’ve spent time together. We went to the amphitheater. We hiked. We worked out together. We . . .” She blushed at the idea of telling Emerson how they’d had amazing sex.

  “I get it,” Em said.

  “What do you get?” Jake said, pushing the door open.

  “Little sis is dating a hockey player.”

  Jake turned to Olivia, a stunned expression on his face. “Who?”

  “For fucks sake, Em. Did you have to?” She’d only just reconciled the idea of telling Emerson. She didn’t want or need a whole family discussion about it.

  Emerson shrugged sheepishly. “You weren’t happy when I kept Connor from you both.”

  “Okay, that’s fair. That’s the reason I just told you.” But the flicker of anger still flamed within Olivia. “The circumstances are a bit different, though. We just met. You were sharing important details of the distillery with Connor. I would have told Jake when I was ready, Em.”

  “You know I’m standing right here,” Jake said. “Who is he?”

  “Anders Berg.” Olivia rolled her eyes. Given the choice, she’d much rather be discussing the budget with Emerson.

  “Holy shit. He just got traded from—”

  “Phoenix. Yeah, Liv just mentioned that.”

  Jake’s eyes were wide. “Damn, I’m going to have to start working out more. First, Connor the Ironman, now Anders Berg, tipped to be the prime target of free agency. I’m not going to stand next to those two in family Christmas photographs.”

  “You’re such an ass,” Emerson said.

  Jake laughed. “How long have you two been—?”

  “Since Christmas, since that wedding,” Emerson answered.

  Olivia threw her hands in the air, hating that the conversation had spiraled out of her control. The two of them focusing made her
heart race. “Are you two done? We need to talk budget.”

  Emerson shook her head and leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table. “Liv. Listen. I’m sure it’s super exciting to find a new guy. But are you sure the timing is right?”

  This.

  This was what she’d wanted to avoid. Her thoughts about Anders were still in the air. And Emerson would push and push and make her doubt herself . . . make her question whether the timing was right.

  “What do you mean?” Olivia asked.

  Emerson bit the side of her lip, which she sometimes did when thinking about how to phrase something. Olivia knew before Emerson spoke that she wasn’t going to like what she had to say.

  “You deserve to be happy, Liv. But you’ve only just recovered from last year.”

  Her words fanned the flames of her anger. “Is last year code for depression and anxiety? Because you can say the words, Em.”

  “I’m sorry, Liv. Yes, the depression and anxiety. Aren’t there steps you have to take to come out of this properly?”

  Olivia scoffed. “It’s not a twelve-step program. I don’t have to keep a plant or a pet alive for a year, and if that works I get to have a relationship. And plenty of people have depression and anxiety while they are in relationships with other people. They aren’t the privilege of the single.”

  Emerson rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Again, I’m sorry. I’m saying this all wrong. I’m worried about you, Olivia. When you came back to work in October, I was thrilled. And I know you’ve been ramping back up to full time, and I know it’s a lot. And I guess I’m worried that you might regress if you take on too much.”

  Olivia’s fury exploded. “What do you want me to tell you? That only my job matters? That I won’t have any life outside of that? That I’ll get up and come to work and go home again, without passing go and collecting two hundred bucks? This isn’t Monopoly. It’s my life. And I need to get on with it. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m sorry I even mentioned Anders to you.”

  “Liv, I’m sorry. We’re not trying to—”

  “You know, Em, you say that a lot. Sorry. And that you are not trying to mother me, worry me, overburden me. Save it.”