Fresh Ice

by Sarah J. Bradley

  So what’s my defect? My life is a mess. Why can’t I let go of what’s not working?

  He lay on the bed, his feet dangling near the floor. His eyes closed, he tried to picture a world where he could be as at peace as he was in this still moment and still keep the trappings of his glory days. That place doesn’t exist. It’s a world where Izzy knows what I really am and she still lets me shower in her tiny bathroom and lie on her massive bed and be at peace.

  A knock on the door jolted Quinn out of his reverie. “Coming!” He pulled on his other sock and opened the door. “Hey, Cat.”

  Cat stared at him for a beat. “Oh come on!” She shouted, shoving a tray of food at him and storming down the hall. “You cannot be serious!”

  “Wait, wait…” Quinn juggled the tray a bit before setting it on the table. “Cat!” He stuck his head out the door. “Cat?”

  “What’s all the yelling?” Izzy, dressed in soft sweatpants and a long sleeved thermal shirt walked out of the bathroom. “Oh good, food. Ooh, cinnamon rolls.”

  “What’s up with her?” Quinn liked how she looked. Her hair, still damp, trailed onto her shoulders. Her face was clean and smooth. He’d never seen her look prettier.

  Izzy looked at him. “Did you answer the door like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Shirtless and muscley.” She picked up the mug marked ‘decaf’ and dumped in three ice cubes. “At least she didn’t spill the ice.”

  “So, a guy can’t take his shirt off around here?”

  Izzy bit deep into a cinnamon roll. “No, most guys can. I’m sure those Monty Python guys downstairs, they could strip naked and Cat probably wouldn’t make a big deal about it.” She licked a bit of frosting off her fingers, a move that stirred something in his gut. “But have you seen yourself?”

  Quinn couldn’t stop the faint shiver that ran up his spine. I’m not even going to pretend I don’t like that she thinks I’m good looking. “Fine, fine. I’ll put on a shirt.”

  “Don’t get huffy, think of it from another point of view. Cat is a lonely, lonely, lonely woman. And you, you’re like guy on the cover of a romance novel. Guys like you can’t just wander around without a shirt; you have no idea what sort of trigger sequence you’re launching.”

  Quinn laughed out loud as he pulled a long sleeved t-shirt over his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a woman equate arousal with launch sequences.”

  She picked up her coffee cup, walked past him, and sat cross legged on her bed. “I used to watch a lot of the History Channel. My husband liked it.” A veil of melancholy passed over her face. “Anyway…” she drank more coffee, seemingly unaware she’d stopped talking.

  Eager to bring the light mood back, Quinn sat on the edge of the bed, coffee cup in hand. “So why the ice cubes in the coffee?”

  Izzy shook herself out of her thoughts. “I don’t know. I do it with wine and coffee. I’ve done it for years. I don’t even remember when I started drinking coffee.”

  “Or wine?”

  “Oh wine!” She chuckled and set her empty coffee cup on the nightstand. “No, that I remember really well. Col and I…”

  “I’m sorry, who’s Col?” Don’t be Singer Guy.

  She leaned against the pillows. “Collier James.”

  Damn. They do have a history.

  “He was my very best friend growing up. We used to sneak into his father’s office and one night he had this bottle of cherry wine.”

  Quinn set his cup on the opposight night stand and slid next to her. “How old were you?”

  “Fourteen. Col was sixteen, and way more rebellious than I. We drank the whole bottle. I got so sick.” She laughed at the memory. “That was my first kiss.” Her smile faded slightly and she looked at Quinn. “I’d forgotten that part.”

  Oh, good move, Murray. You’re finally on a bed with the woman and you’ve got her thinking about kissing someone else.

  “How about you? What was your first experience with demon liquor?”

  “Demon liquor?”

  Izzy shrugged. “History Channel.”

  “I was young, too. I think my brothers snuck me into some party when I was in high school. I was older though.”

  “Well, things were sort of in fast forward for me.” She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. “You say you wanted to take me up on that favor. I’m guessing a hot shower and some breakfast won’t quite cover it?”

  Quinn adjusted to her conversational gear shift. “You see…I’ve got this charity thing in a few days. It’s for the Make-a-Wish Foundation. Some little boy here in Nashville wanted to skate with real NHL players. It’s not a huge deal, but my assistant sort of bailed on me last minute. I could use someone to, you know, maybe greet people at the door, hand out gift bags. Maybe skate a little in a scrimmage, if one comes up?” He studied her face to see if his request sparked anything in her.

  “Skating?”

  “Can you skate?” He felt stupid asking the question.

  “Oh a little. I used to go to skate parties with Jenna.” She hugged her knees tighter. “I won’t crash into the wall, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Crashing into the wall? I’m more worried about falling to pieces if you really start to skate. “So it’s a yes?”

  She was quiet for a moment. Then, as if she’d finished some internal battle, she relaxed and lay back on the pillow. “Before I say yes, answer a question for me.”

  “Okay, I’ll try.” And I’ll try harder to not take you in my arms right now.

  “You’re not that old, why did you retire from hockey?” Her dark blue eyes pierced through the protective layers he’d wrapped around himself.

  I could tell you, but you wouldn’t sleep for a month. “Bad knees. But I don’t miss it that much. I’ve got the radio station thing and I’m on the road with the Preds a lot.”

  Her eyelids drooped. “Oh, okay. I was just curious.”

  “That it? Now you’ll help with the event?” He brushed a damp strand of hair away from her face. Completely relaxed, her face looked like porcelain. He brushed his fingertips lightly on her cheek, unable to keep from touching her.

  “Sure.” Her voice was far away, dreamy.

  Watching her drift to sleep, her face a perfect image of an angel, Quinn thought about her words. How can I tell her I’m in a prison of my own making because I can’t picture living as simply as she does?

  I could if Izzy could forgive my past.

  But that is very unlikely.

  His cell buzzed in his pocket. He eased off the bed. Wrapping a quilt around Izzy, he made sure she was safe and warm. Serena summons. Time to go pay the rent.

  FIFTEEN

  “So, ya had the hottest guy in town in your bed this morning and you, what do you do? You order decaf and you fall asleep!” Writing the next day’s specials on the menu board, Cat flicked a small piece of pink chalk at Izzy. “And don’t sit there and be all innocent and try and tell me that ‘it’s not that way’ between you two. The man met me at the door without his shirt on. I don’t even like hockey players, and I would have ‘been like that with him’ right there in the hall!”

  “Is that true, Mom? Was Quinn in your room?”

  Izzy picked at her cranberry scone and sighed. “As I told you this morning, Cat, Quinn and I are friends. It’s a friendship I really, really treasure.”

  “Oh effin ef Aunt Iz!” Mikayla emerged from the kitchen where she’d been washing dishes. “You’re not forty yet. And he’s ridiculously smokin’ hot. He was up in your room. Naked. And you fell asleep?”

  “For the hundredth time, he was not naked in my room. He was naked in my bathroom while he took a shower, which is completely normal.”

  “Given the size of your apartment and the paper thin quality of the doors in this building, I would say there isn’t that much difference, Mom.”

  “Proximal nudity is what it is.”

  Mikayla laughed so hard at Cat’s statement, she lea
ned against the doorframe and slid to the floor. “Proximal nudity? Is that even a thing?”

  “It is when you haven’t had a date in six months and you’re living vicariously through the only woman in the world not turned on by Quinn Murray.” Cat grinned at Izzy. “Come on, spill it. When are you and Mr. Hockey going to take this thing to the next level?”

  “Next level?” Izzy rubbed her eyes. “I don’t even know what that means.”

  “Give me one good reason why you two aren’t doing the tangled sheet tango.”

  “Cat, I’ll give you the best one yet: Have you seen him? No one who looks like that is ever going to be interested in me.”

  “Well at least we know you’re not blind.” Cat grinned.

  The four women laughed together. Their laughter annoyed the few remaining Monty Python film fest fans, who made rude noises in their general direction.

  “Oh shove off you geeks!” Cat shouted at the small group. “Why don’t you pull yourselves away from that rubbish and go kiss a girl or something?”

  Izzy watched as the sorry collection of men and boys filed out of the coffee shop. “Cat, I’m not sure if you were scolding them or flirting with them. And since when are you British?”

  “I’ve had to listen to the entire collected works of ‘Monty Python’ all bloomin’ day. I love ‘Holy Grail’ and give me credit, I served Spam for lunch. But fifteen hours of it is more than I can stand.” Cat sank into a nearby arm chair. “But don’t change the subject. Admit you wouldn’t mind a steamy throw down with Quinn.”

  Izzy closed her eyes. “Well, of course, there’s an attraction. I’m not an idiot.”

  “Whooo hooo!” Cat and Mikayla jumped up and down, hooting and howling. Jenna, a little more reserved, patted Izzy’s arm.

  “Are you three done?”

  “Oh come on. This is huge! You can’t expect to drop a bomb like that and then have no reaction!” Mikayla clapped her hands.

  “What bomb? I like Quinn. He’s got a good heart. He’s been very kind to me.”

  “He’s like butter melting on a stack of pancakes. Yummy and, if you play your cards, right sticky.” Cat high fived Mikayla.

  “Would you two stop it?”

  “Jenna, your mom is in total denial about this.” Mikayla picked up her duffle bag. “Unfortunately, we have mid terms, so you and I can’t hang out here and wait for the previews of next week’s episode of ‘Geriatrics in Love.’ Come on roomie.”

  Jenna followed Mikayla. “Mom, could we go shopping next weekend?”

  “Oh, wait,” Izzy hopped off her stool and followed Jenna outside. “I won’t be able to do anything next weekend. I’m helping Quinn with his Make-a-Wish event.”

  “Oh yeah, some of the kids at school were talking about it. I guess the older brother of the kid it’s for is in my psych class. But it’s a skating thing, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You gonna be okay? I mean, you haven’t told anyone about who you are. Mikayla doesn’t even know the whole story.”

  Am I risking everything by helping Quinn? “I know. It’s going to be fine. I can skate without, you know, skating. I fooled the moms in your school easily enough.”

  Jenna hugged her one last time, and slid into the passenger seat of Mikayla’s ancient Chevy Monza. “Okay Mom. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Izzy waved as the car pulled away from the curb, turned the corner and vanished from her sight. She walked toward the darkened coffee shop, replaying the events of the morning in her mind. A real relationship with Quinn? With any man? What would I know about that?

  Might not be terrible to find out.

  ***

  Quinn picked his T-shirt off the floor and pulled it over his head. The last time I put on this shirt, I felt so clean. And now I’m filthy.

  “Where are you going?” Serena nudged his leg with a bare toe.

  Quinn studied her. She was glossy, like a magazine cover. From the rumpled satin sheets to the negligee she wore, everything about her was slick and shiny. Closing his eyes, Quinn pictured Izzy’s bed, with its soft comforter and fluffy pillows. Then he pictured Izzy’s clean, honest face. How can I even think about her right now?

  “I said,” Serena ran her toes up his spine, “where are you going?”

  Quinn stood and tucked in his shirt. “Serena, I’ve been up for at least thirty-six hours. I’m exhausted. And I thought, since you were…done with me…I’d go home and get some rest.”

  “Who said I was done with you?” She crawled across the satin sheets and threw her arms around his neck. “It’s not my fault you decided to read a book at a Waffle House all night. You’re supposed to come here when you get back from a trip.”

  Her heavy perfume choked him. “I’m sorry. I had a lot on my mind. You know I have that Make-a-Wish thing going on next week.”

  “That’s not my problem. What you insist on doing when we aren’t together isn’t my problem. You know the rules, Quinn.”

  Quinn nodded, trying not to breath in her scent. How is it I’ve never noticed this before? “I forgot. Sorry.”

  She released him and sat back on the bed. “I suppose I got everything I’m getting out of you today.”

  Quinn sat in a nearby chair and pulled on his socks. “I think you’re right.”

  “It’s just as well.” She waved him away with a dismissive hand. “I have to fly to Montreal tomorrow for a league owners’ meeting.”

  “You’re going?” Quinn was surprised. “You never go to those.”

  “True, but you’ve got half the team’s owners tied up with your charity thing, so someone’s got to go protect the team’s assets. Who knows what the league is going to try to make us do now. These new safety measures are ruining the game.”

  “Yes, we wouldn’t want the players to be safe and healthy.”

  Serena arched an eyebrow. “Says you, who once caught a puck in the throat. Didn’t stop you, did it? You played the whole game.”

  Most likely because my blood alcohol level was high enough to dull the pain. “Yes, but I wound up retiring a lot earlier than maybe I could have.”

  “Getting hit in the throat had nothing to do with that and you know it.”

  I sometimes wonder.

  “Well anyway, if we protect the players from serious injury, they will play longer. Having familiar names out there is good for the game. Fans are more interested in players they know. Why do you think everyone knows Brett Favre’s name, even though he’s been retired for a few years?”

  Serena wrinkled her nose. “You know I don’t follow baseball.”

  “It’s football, but whatever. The man played more games than most guys do in three lifetimes. People grew up watching him. A whole generation of players grew up watching him and then got to play with him. His jersey is still hugely popular.” He sold jerseys for three different teams. Lucky bastard.

  “You’re boring me now. You’ll be driving me to the airport tomorrow morning early, and then I’ll be gone for a week.”

  “A week for an owners’ meeting?”

  Serena heaved a bored sigh. “I need a few days off.”

  And if I’m lucky, I’ll be back on the road when she returns. If I play this right, it could be three weeks before I have to see her again.

  “What on earth are you grinning about?”

  Quinn blinked. “Sorry, I was thinking about…something.”

  “Well stop. It’s creepy. No go get your precious beauty sleep. And be here at five tomorrow to take me to the airport.” She rolled to her side and turned off the lamp.

  Driving home in the twilight, Quinn marveled at this unexpected reprieve from Serena’s demands. His spirits rose as high as Nashville’s neon skyline.

  SIXTEEN

  Izzy opened the box and stared at the contents. The last time she was on the ice, she wore rented skates and pretended to have trouble making corners at the local rink. Even then, after so many years, it was like I’d never been off the ice. It was so h
ard to keep from letting loose and landing some jumps. She smiled at the idea. What would those other moms have thought? They already hated me because I looked so young.

  She pulled out her competition skates. I always loved these skates.

  They were my glass slippers. When I wore them, I was a princess.

  A light knock shook her out of her reverie. “Come in.”

  “Izzy, how are ya?”

  “Collier!” Izzy hopped up and hugged him. “I can’t believe you’re back. I thought you were going to be gone for another week.”

  “Oh, I’m not really here. I have to catch up with the guys in a couple hours. But our manager called me about a charity event, said the guy organizing it wanted to bring in as many local celebrities as possible, I wanted to get the details before I signed the band up for something we might hate.”

  “It’s not a Make-a-Wish thing is it?”

  Collier shook his head. “No, something else in the early spring. From what I understand, it’s going to be big…” he caught sight of the skates, “although not quite as big as Isabella Landry putting on her competition skates. What’s going on here?”

  “Have a seat,” Izzy pointed to the bed. “I’m supposed to help with this Make-a-Wish thing later today. It’s a skating event. Apparently, the child wants to scrimmage with some NHL players. So my friend…he’s a former NHL player…”

  “Quinn Murray?”

  “How’d you know?”

  Collier shook his head. “Two reasons: first, Quinn does more charity work in this town than anyone. Second, you’ve had an eye on him since the day you got back to Nashville, and don’t you even dare deny it.”

  “What are you talking about?” The icy edge in Collier’s voice made Izzy defensive. “We’re friends.”

  Collier’s laugh was loud and mocking. “I wasn’t aware he was in the friendship business when it came to women.”

  Izzy rolled her eyes. “I swear, why is it so hard to believe he and I can have a completely platonic friendship?”