Breaking the Ice (Timberwolves #1)

by Lizzy Ripp

  "You're going now?"

  "No time like the present, my friend! Forget Torrence, that date is mine," Jonathan called out.

  "I guess I'll get the bill then," Yaro called after him. Jonathan didn't answer but gave him a thumbs up through the glass on his way back to the stadium offices. Yaro shook his head and tucked back into his beer, gazing out at the drizzly, grey day and trying to keep his mind off Julia - with very little luck. He couldn't stop the memory of her hands, urgent and small, inching up his torso, of her lips pressed insistently to his, of the small sounds she made that had made him instantly hard.

  He swallowed and shifted in his seat. He wished he could wave his hand and make everything as it had been that day - when they'd just been two people who were interested in each other, who wanted to see how far their interest would take them. Instead of this... Whatever it was.

  He was determined to put things right. He just didn't know how - yet.

  ----

  After Yaro left, it had taken Julia some time to gather herself together again - his appearance was enough to make her severely flustered, even if she hadn't shown it (thank god).

  Privately, she was quite proud of the performance she'd turned in. She'd been cool, business-like, detached - just like Cassie had told her.

  "You are aloof and powerful - you have time for no man's fuckery," Cassie had said, explaining her attitude when she had to go in for negotiations with higher-ups. "Big-shot producers, directors, Hollywood royalty, it doesn't matter," she had said, waving a perfectly-manicured hand. "Trust me, nothing unsettles a man more than a woman proving she doesn't give a single crap who he is."

  Julia had tried to keep Cassie's advice firmly in mind during her encounter with Yaro - even if she found it incredibly difficult to be in such proximity to him and not unravel completely. She could tell he wanted to explain - he wanted to make things better, but some small but stubborn part of her was so resistant to being hurt again that she thought it preferable to retreat from the situation entirely. She should be single, she had decided. She should focus on her career and forget men for the time being. Especially tall, interesting, hot-as-hell hockey players. It was for the best. Really. It was.

  Clearing her throat, Julia sat at her desk and enjoyed the quiet, trying to escape the electric charge Yaro had brought into the room with him. She had always liked her office - having her own space was more than any of her friends (all plagued by open-plan offices) could boast. She had all her books here with her, her family always beaming down and Jacob... She traced the picture of her twin brother and herself with their exuberant, gap-toothed, eleven-year-old smiles with a fingertip. It was nice to have him with her in some form.

  With a small, resigned sigh that no one heard but the keyboard, Julia got back to work, making sure everything was set for the gala in Philadelphia on Wednesday. She'd picked out a dress that she hoped was demure yet stylish enough to serve the purpose and get their pictures online with the local gossip pages. She was deep in the midst of making last minute email confirmations when her phone buzzed on the desk before her and without thinking much, she pulled it to her, her eyes flicking down at the screen and then freezing, her heart going from zero-to-sixty in a millisecond.

  "Saw ur pic online – u looked good. Dan xx."

  Julia stared down at the text, as if it would vanish if she did nothing. She'd been longing for a text from Daniel ever since he'd left her - something to explain why he'd done what he'd done, some indication that he understood how utterly horrible his actions had been. In her weaker moments, she thought she would have settled for something just like this - something to show he still thought about her, at the very least.

  But now that it was here, it made her want to throw her phone in the drawer, shut it up and run away. She didn't want to contemplate it, she didn't want to look at it, and she certainly didn't want to reply to it.

  Or rather, she did want to reply to it - she wanted to reply to it in countless, furious ways. She wanted to humiliate him, to make him feel exactly how she had felt, to drag his heart through the dirt like he'd done hers and to show absolutely no remorse. She wanted to destroy him.

  But of course, she couldn't do that. She couldn't allow the audacity of that jerk to put her off her game in what was the biggest campaign of her professional career thus far. Cassie wouldn't be shaken by something like this, she thought to herself. Cassie would glance at a text like that, roll her eyes, and go about her day. And that was exactly what Julia was going to do. Starting now. She clicked off her phone and threw it in her purse, before gathering her gym bag from its customary place under her desk.

  A kick-boxing class was exactly what she needed right now. Though whether the bag was going to be Yaro or Daniel, she couldn't say.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  "YOU'RE DOING GREAT," Cassie said, enthused as she dug into a vegan burger and white wine spritzer at Lentil as Down, a restaurant she favored that wasn't far from her home.

  Julia, who wasn't vegan, tried to work up the same amount of gusto for her imitation cheeseburger, but couldn't quite seem to manage it.

  "I suppose I'm doing alright," she said. "Kick-boxing class was a breeze. I just imagined kicking pretty much all of the men I know in the head for an hour straight."

  "That's what I do with fight scenes at work," Cassie confided, taking a deep sip of her wine. "Although if I'm working with Brad Bennett, I don't have to pretend. That guy is such a jerk."

  "No, really?" Julia made a disappointed face and not just because of the vegan cheese. "I always thought he seemed so charming."

  "That's because he's basically a sociopath," Cassie chuckled.

  "Everyone I like turns out to be crap."

  "We'll just have to get you some better friends in the future, won't we? Anyway. I have some good news," Cassie went on.

  "What's that?"

  "Well," Cassie said, blue eyes sparkling, "I heard from Christina today about... God I can't remember his name. Whoever it was they wanted to set me up with."

  "Torrence," Julia said, taking a deep sip of her craft beer - some mango concoction that she was enjoying much more than she'd imagined she might.

  "No, that wasn't it," Cassie said, shaking her head. "Jonathan something? He has a last name I've never heard before."

  "Jonathan Ouellet?” Julia asked, her brow furrowing. "She's setting you up with him instead?"

  "I guess so," Cassie shrugged. "Why, is there something wrong with him?"

  "No," Julia shook her head. "Just the opposite. He's probably the most loved player we've got. Do you seriously not follow hockey at all in this town?"

  "Honey, I don't follow sports anywhere," Cassie laughed.

  Julia rolled her eyes. "It's interesting," she said, chewing slowly in contemplation. "He has a great reputation already. Definitely not an image that needs any assistance. He's a really nice guy too, by all accounts. Good friends with Yaro."

  "Mm, well hopefully he has better judgment than his friend. Anyway, where was I going with this story? Oh, right! We're flying out to Philadelphia for the... I can't remember the name of the benefit, but I'm sure you know the one?"

  "Beyond the Ice," Julia said. "Are you serious? Oh my god, that's amazing. It'll be incredible to have someone to actually talk to at that thing, I was absolutely dreading it."

  Cassie smiled before popping what was left of the burger into her mouth. "You'll have someone in your corner, girl. It's gonna be a good night."

  Julia laughed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. "Amazing. Cheers to that."

  With a shared smile, the two new friends clinked glasses and laughed.

  ----

  The next day, Yaro was at the rink early - so early in fact that he beat Julia in, much to his disappointment. He had fabricated a reason for going to see her, some vague question about arrangements for his suit for the benefit, but when he went by her office, he found it still locked up from the evening before.

  "Lo
oking for Julia?" He jumped as he heard a voice behind him and saw Christina striding through the door, opening her own office door with jangling keys, looking effortless and chic in her tweed pantsuit and stilettos.

  "Oh, uh - yeah, I just had a question about the benefit tomorrow night..."

  "No problem," Christina said briskly, striding into her office and setting down her expensive-looking bag on the edge of her desk. "You can ask me. Come on in, I'll make you a coffee."

  "You've got a coffee machine in here?" He asked, at once intrigued. "The machine in the cafeteria is..."

  "Terrible?" Christina asked, smiling. "I know. That's why I brought this baby in. Espresso and a real milk frother. None of that automated crap. I'll still say yes to the odd Starbucks though. Little tip for getting on my good side," she said, flicking on the machine, which rumbled to life slowly.

  "I'll keep that in mind," he said, watching her as she fiddled with the machine, grinding the beans - real beans! - like a barista.

  "Now what can I help you with?" She said as she worked, but just as he was about to answer, she held up a long, thin finger, putting him on hold as the milk frother squealed to life. After what seemed like ages, she was finally finished and returned to the desk, gesturing gracefully for him to sit, as if she were an airplane hostess, placing the cups - clean and white and sitting on their own little saucers - on either side of the desk. She took a seat in her own large and comfortable-looking chair and enjoyed an appreciative sip of her drink.

  Yaro settled back into his own chair - spacious and sturdy, clearly built for the big men Christina frequently had to liaise with, and took a sip of his own coffee. She'd made them both cappuccinos and they were frothy and strong. Delicious.

  He made a deep and satisfied sound. "Much better," he said, lifting a cup and indicating downstairs with a downward flick of his eyes.

  "You don't have to tell me," Christina said. "I wrote this off in taxes anyway. More than worth it to not have to settle for that swill. Now, then. Talk to me. It's about the benefit?"

  "Oh, right," he went on. "Uh, I was just wondering about the suit - I wanted to ask Julia what color she wanted and uh, whether my travel suit would work with... You know," he shrugged his massive shoulders, feeling suddenly exposed, "... Whatever she's wearing."

  "Uh huh," Christina said, a strange little smile on her smooth, line-less face. "She didn't tell you that that had already been sorted out?"

  "Uh..." Yaro stammered. "Maybe I missed it."

  "Maybe," Christina smirked. "Well, you don't need to worry about that, it's all sorted. We've got a tux for you - it's black-tie - and it'll be waiting in your hotel room when you get in. As for Julia's outfit, I'm not sure what she's wearing. But I'm sure it will be lovely," she said pointedly. "So I don't think you have to worry on that count."

  "Oh, I wasn't -"

  "She's really passionate about this cause, you know," Christina went on, as if he hadn't spoken at all. "You know, after her twin brother..." she added, trailing off, her mouth pressed into a tight line.

  "After her twin brother...what?" Yaro asked, clearly not catching the meaning.

  "Well, he killed himself," Christina said, quietly and in a clipped tone. "After he injured his Achilles. He knew he'd never go pro and he just..." She cleared her throat. "Thought his life was over. Terrible," she shook her head, sadly. "He was just a kid. Seventeen. My son's sixteen... He's got his whole life ahead of him. But the young just..." She shrugged her bony shoulders, "They don't know what they don't know, you know?"

  Yaro took this in for a moment. That explained the tightness on Julia's face anytime she had mentioned her brothers - and the expression that had flickered over her when he'd asked about the photo on her desk of the boy who looked exactly like her.

  "You've got a sixteen-year-old?" He asked, surprised. Christina smiled saucily.

  "And I wasn't a teen mom either," she winked.

  "Anyway. Does that answer your question?"

  "Uh, yeah. It does," he drained the rest of his coffee in one gulp. "Thank you," he said, getting to his feet and making for the door.

  "Oh, also I'm sure you'll be happy to know that your friend Jonathan and Cassie West will be flying over too. For the benefit," she added, to his confused expression.

  Yaro shook his head, amused. "So he talked you into it, did he?"

  Christina chuckled to herself as she sat back in her chair and crossed an elegant leg, taking another deep sip of her coffee. "He was very adamant about the change in plans. Convinced me he could make it work. Seems to be going alright in your case, so..." she shrugged. "I'll be open-minded."

  "I'm sure he appreciates it. Thank you for the coffee," he added.

  "Oh, and Yaro," she called out to him, just as he was about to close the door behind him. He swiveled and poked his head back through.

  Christina hesitated. "Just... Be on your best behavior. Please. For her. It means a lot to her," she added. "Maybe it's the mom in me but I just want it to go well for her. So, please?"

  Any trace of playfulness was gone from her voice now. She stared at him firmly and he saw a hint of the steeliness that had won her so much respect in what was, aside from her and her young colleague, a very male dominated workplace. He nodded solemnly. "I'll make sure it goes well," he said. "Thank you."

  As he walked down to the still-empty dressing room, Yaro thought about what Christina had said. Julia had mentioned her brothers when they'd spoken about how lucky he was to be in the position he was and he'd brushed it off. Lots of people wanted to be sports stars, or thought they did, at any rate. Many – most - people were not cut out for it. Most went on to have other careers, other lives, to be happy with the alternative paths their lives had taken them down. But not everyone.

  His mind was troubled as he went about getting dressed for practice, slowly and methodically. It would be a shorter one today - it was game day, against Detroit. Always a tricky one, but always amusing. The animosity between the two teams was so timeless it had become something of an inside joke and truth be told there were many players he enjoyed seeing and would gladly buy post-game beers for.

  But there were a few players for which the animosity was absolutely real - most glaringly, Ryan Sorbo. Ryan was a young up-and-comer from the mid-West, who'd grown up thinking the sun shined out of his ass and had not, as of yet, learned otherwise. He was everything Yaro disliked in a person wrapped up in one smarmy package - rude, cruel, careless and happy to coast through life resting on the same laurels he'd been riding since childhood. Worst of all - he had a great public image. He knew just what to say, the expressions to pull to endear himself to people - but it was all an act.

  Suddenly Yaro registered noise behind him - someone was coming down the long hall that led to the dressing room, singing exuberantly. A moment later, the door was thrown open and Jonathan strutted into the room, looking for all the world like he'd just won the lottery.

  Yaro smiled. "Good news, bud?"

  "I got me a date with a movie star," Jonathan grinned.

  "TV star," Yaro corrected as Jonathan waved a hand.

  "Whatever. A star. And I wouldn't be into just any star, you know that - I'm not into all that celebrity stuff. But this girl," he bit his lip and shook his head. "She's gonna be my wife, mark my words. This time next year. We'll have an apartment in the city, a son named... I dunno, Kyle or something, and we'll be living the good life."

  "I think you might be getting just a wee bit ahead of yourself," Yaro grinned. "But best of luck with that. Have you even spoken to her yet?"

  "We've exchanged messages. She's totally into me."

  "Is that so?"

  "Mmmhmm."

  "You know it. I've got the touch.. Detroit is going down. And that little shit Ryan Sorbo isn't gonna know what hit him."

  He plonked down next to Yaro on the bench, looking exuberant.

  "It'll be my fist. That hits him."

  "Yeah, I got that."

  Jonathan clappe
d his hands and stood up, beginning to get ready, his good humor buzzing around him like a hummingbird's wings.

  "What are you doing in so early, anyway?"

  "I was hoping to catch Julia, but I caught Christina instead."

  "Christina huh? You know I had a makeout sesh with her at the Christmas party, right? She is fine for an older lady."

  Yaro nodded appreciatively. "She's fine for any lady," he said. "You done good on that one."

  "I thought so. What'd she have to say?"

  "I just had some questions about the benefit. It's a good cause, apparently." Yaro kept his eyes down as he spoke, not wanting to give anything away - especially about Julia's private business. She probably wouldn't even want him to know how close this charity was to her heart, let alone the entire team.

  "Yeah, man," Jonathan agreed, not really listening. "It's going to be a time."

  "Yeah," Yaro agreed, a strange nervous feeling fluttering in his stomach. "It sure is."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  AFTER AN UNREMARKABLE practice during which Yaro did his best to keep his mind on the task at hand and off Julia (with little success), the team was dismissed for a few hours to eat and get themselves together in whatever way they chose for the game that night. This varied wildly from player to player. Some had elaborate rituals they played out carefully and precisely night after night, others, perhaps more practically, preferred to practice whichever drills had not gone their way in practice that morning.

  As for Yaro, he preferred some time spent in his own meditative state - at the Keg and Brew for a pre-game vodka. Part of his heritage, he explained to anyone - including Jerry - who objected.

  "I'll cry discrimination, Jerry, I mean it," he'd threatened and Jerry had relented, though not without substantial eye-rolling and muttering under his breath. And so Yaro's pre-game ritual had remained undisturbed - since he was 14. There were, he supposed, some benefits to growing up with no parental supervision.