Hot on Ice: A Hockey Romance Anthology

by Avery Flynn

  She’d searched the crowd pretty thoroughly before Tripp had locked eyes with her. But anything could have happened after and she would have missed it. Shameful behavior from a professional. And she only had herself to blame.

  “Well, she and Gage are invited to the next event.”

  “I remember. I’m driving to the hospital.”

  “Don’t forget to eat lunch, dear.”

  Brooke smiled and continued walking to her car. “That’s one thing I never forget, Grammy.”

  “Did…um…did everything go okay? Any mishaps?”

  Brooke had wondered for a long time what her grandmother’s gift was. Hallie could practically read minds. Carrie could feel someone lying. Emma and Essie were still honing in on theirs. Her grandmother had taught her how to control the stupid pheromones that ruined her life, but never mentioned anything about herself.

  It didn’t matter. The granddaughter in her couldn’t lie.

  “I’d rather keep this between you and me for now. But yeah, it happened. First big crowd and I lost control.”

  “Do you know what triggered it?”

  She did. But she wouldn’t admit that her hockey crush might get in the way of her helping. She could handle it. She’d force herself to handle it. So there was no reason to make Grammy doubt her.

  “I forgot for a moment.” Okay, she was lying–or stretching the truth as easy as soft taffy. The granddaughter in her hated it. This was a place she should feel safe. An environment where the people around her fully trusted her.

  It wasn’t her old job. No one would accuse her of seducing a suspect. No one would fire her because of absurd sexual harassment charges. Liars. Three creeps had lied through their teeth.

  “Okay, I’m not going to lie, Grammy.” She inhaled and explained everything in detail. Even the feeling that she didn’t want to turn it off.

  “But you did. You got the pheromones under control. Nothing happened.”

  “Nothing except locking eyes with the man who’s not supposed to know that I’m around.” And feeling like I have an uncontrollable urge to attract him with everything in me.

  “And is that such a bad thing?”

  “Yes. It’s not what Hallie and Gage want.”

  “But wouldn’t it be easier? You could stay closer to Deacon. Couldn’t you?”

  “Grammy, you sound like you’re trying to convince me. But I’ll stick with the plan, until the plan doesn’t work.” She was at her car. “For the record, you don’t feel the need to tell Hallie about…about what happened. Do you?”

  “Of course not. You can do that whenever you want. Or not. It’s totally up to you. We’ve all struggled getting our gifts under control.”

  “I thought I did have control. I’d never have come otherwise.”

  “It’s fine, dear. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

  She dropped her forehead to the edge of the hot car, releasing an exasperated sigh. “I want to believe that.”

  “It gets easier, honey. I promise.”

  “I’m holding you to that, Grammy. Mom said the same thing. You two gave me hope of a normal life again.”

  “A new normal. We know you can do it.”

  “Thanks. I better get going. I need to be inside the hospital before everyone arrives.”

  “It’ll be okay, Brooke. Don’t worry. You can be yourself and still keep your gift under control. You’ll figure it out. Love you, sweetheart.”

  Could she?

  Could she figure out how to control the pheromones? And if she did, that would be the easy part. Finding someone actually attracted to her without them would be a genuine headache. She’d never be certain why they fell in love with her.

  One thing she did know…she was attracted to Tripp Sanders in more ways than one. Looking at him in person sent her head into a spin that made her forget everything. Even uncontrollable pheromones that wrecked her life.

  And for the first time in a long time, she looked forward to seeing someone again.

  5

  Deacon tried not to stare, but the girl to his left had caught his eye more than once. At the parade this morning he’d barely kept his seat trying to turn and stare longer. Now at Children’s Hospital. It was undeniably the same woman. He zeroed in on her long, raven colored hair first thing.

  The black had gleamed under the noon sun in McKinney and wouldn’t leave his mind alone. Taller than most in the crowd, the color caught his eye again in the lobby.

  Attempting to ignore him, she tapped her foot while standing at the elevator. She tried to attach herself to a teenager in a wheelchair. The kid didn’t know her…that was obvious.

  Puck Bunny?

  Dressed in jeans and a regular sleeveless shirt, she could have been mistaken for a mom of one of the younger kids. She might have dressed less revealing because they were in a hospital, but she still oozed sexiness.

  Puck bunnies normally wore more revealing, tighter clothing. Sometimes it was a jersey with his number. He’d met one girl that wore no shirt at all. Just a painted-on version of his Cajun number twenty-seven. He did not give her the requested jersey autograph. Or take her up on he less than subtle hint.

  After switching from the lobby to a visitors’ waiting room on the third floor, he’d lost track of the press and on-lookers once he began interacting with the children. He visited a wing where the kids had watched the championship series. They recited his every move during the last two games.

  He posed for pictures. One girl was small enough that he sat the Cup on the floor, put her in the top, and let her kiss him. The team’s PR crew and reporters loved it.

  Definitely front-page material. The team publicist, Harlan Axel, gave him two thumbs up, then a signal to wrap things with the kids.

  “Is your name really Tripp?” a boy on crutches asked from near the door.

  “That’s what some of the guys on the team call me. And reporters when I mess up.” The adults laughed. Deacon caught a glimpse of raven curls ducking around the corner. “You play hockey?”

  “Naw. They won’t really let me do anything. My mom says I gotta get stronger first.”

  “I got that when I was a kid, too.” Deacon moved closer to him. Giving them a private minute without cameras. “They’re right. Listen to your mom and maybe you can come see the team when we play in Dallas.”

  “Really? You’d do that? Will you sign my cast?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Deacon used his teeth to tug off the pen’s cap, knelt to the plaster and then snapped the permanent marker closed. He didn’t miss the smile on the mystery bunny’s face and she snuck a peak. She’d overheard the private conversation the reporters ignored.

  The reporters had their story and were heading back to the lobby via the elevator along with the Cup and its guard. The dark-haired beauty was walking toward the stairs.

  “What’s your name, kid?”

  “Greg Carter.” He twisted at the waist, looking for his mother. “Can we? Can we go, Mom?”

  “Sure, honey. You’ll be well by then.”

  Deacon finger-waved one of the team’s PR people closer. “Joyce will get your information. Just let her know which game.”

  Now where was his bunny? Growing up and being more responsible could wait a couple of days.

  The woman peeking his curiosity was heading toward the stairs. He had to meet her. If he didn’t hurry, she’d get away. He patted the teenager on the shoulder and wheeled like he was chasing a free puck. If he’d been on skates, dodging the people wanting to talk to him or shake his hand would have been easier.

  The exit door cracked open and he thought he’d lost her, but she hesitated, almost waiting on him. Others turned their heads watching her, too.

  It was the strangest thing as reporters, patients, and nurses turned to stare. Strange because they were watching her…not him. Not the Cup…already on the elevator. All eyes were on the dark-haired beauty.

  Her eyes grew wide. Frozen.

 
; When his hand closed over hers on the exit push bar, she looked completely stunned.

  “Going so soon?”

  “I beg your pardon?” The sharp dart of her eyes to their hands told him to remove his.

  “You came all this way.” He eased his hand next to hers, still touching her warm skin. “Don’t you want an autograph or something?”

  Stupid line. Very stupid. But to be honest, he was out of practice. The girls usually surrounding him never needed chasing.

  “Try again.”

  He stared at the corner of her provocative lips lifting into a smile. “What?”

  “You need to do better than that if you’re going to see me again,” she whispered.

  His mind vapor locked. How could he do better? Then a group in blue scrubs hurried past. He opened his mouth, but someone else’s “excuse me” sounded in his ear. A teenage volunteer squeezed behind him, pushing the door open and him forward into his mystery woman.

  He tightened his grip on the door. Too late. They were about to tumble to the floor or worse–fall head-first down the stairs. His arms stretched around her waist as he pulled her into a protective embrace, then jerked them sideways toward the wall and the landing area with no steps.

  He landed with a thud, his boots slid across the slick floor until they caught on the rail before they continued downward. He did manage to soften her fall, keeping her on top of him, landing in his lap.

  It wasn’t a first for him. The breath had been knocked from his body more than he could count. He was a damn hockey player. But the floor seemed harder than ice… His butt killed him.

  He smashed his lips closed, and managed to keep the cursing in his head. He’d also had more than one beautiful girl sitting exactly where mystery woman had landed. So why didn’t he want to move?

  Why did he want to sit there and inhale the unique sweetness of the soft black silkiness that covered his face.

  He heard the hard click of the exit door closing. The swishing footsteps of the young men heading downstairs and a faint “sorry” floating in the stairwell.

  “I think you can let go now,” she whispered on a soft note, patting his hands still locked across her abdomen. “No chance of falling anymore.”

  “Right. But I might need a minute to recover.”

  “Oh shoot. Your ribs. I should have remembered Bralovich’s over-zealous check from game seven.” She pushed at his hands and shifted her weight onto one of his thighs.

  A groan he couldn’t contain echoed against the concrete walls along with her apology. To save his aching muscle, he guided her hips to slip between his legs. She tried to push away, but it seemed less self-destructive to hold her where she was.

  “Give me a sec and I’ll move out of your way.”

  Sitting on the floor with an attractive woman between his legs might have been awkward for the average guy. But for some reason it didn’t feel weird. He wanted to laugh, but she seemed too worried about hurting him.

  “My ribs are okay. My butt however–”

  “Oh, God.” She began scrambling to turn around.

  He felt the pressure of the door trying to open and pushed back to keep it closed before they were pushed onto the first step.

  “Deacon?” Harlan called from the other side of the door. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be right there.”

  Mystery woman was on her knees, a fistful of his shirt in her hand, lips close enough for him to move slightly and touch. And man oh man, did he intend to touch.

  Brooke stifled the impulse of grabbing her phone and snapping a selfie with one of her favorite hockey players of the season.

  She knew of him from his ability, but also his exploits. Her hand currently pressed against the polyester of his jersey, and the hard muscles of his chest. She hadn’t meant for her hand to be anywhere close to him.

  What was wrong with her? It was almost like she’d beckoned him to follow her. As if she’d waited for him. She’d been mesmerized by his actions with the children and completely forgotten that she shouldn’t be seen.

  She looked up at his face again. Back into those eyes filled with wonder. Don’t speak! Don’t you dare speak! If you open your mouth I’m going to plaster mine on it and completely embarrass myself. Her eyes dropped to his lips. They weren’t smiling anymore.

  “Can I give you a ride somewhere?” His sexy voice dared her to follow through on her mental threat.

  His kiss was tentative at first. Just surprisingly soft lips barely touching her own. She felt the hesitancy, the awkwardness. She didn’t think and opened her mouth under his gentle pressure. He growled, but it might have been her own sound of desire she heard. Then his grip on her arms changed and she found herself drawn closer. His lips smashed into hers as their bodies came back together.

  The kiss kept going. A long exploration of lips and tongues. He had total control, something she never gave away. She couldn’t have stopped kissing him if someone had barreled through the door pushing them off the landing.

  Tripp’s hand twisted in her hair at the back of her neck. Like he needed to keep her in position. She couldn’t free herself for all the chocolate sundaes in Texas. He didn’t stop for air. She didn’t know how long they’d been kissing until they were jarred again by someone trying to open the door.

  Brooke stared at him, completely speechless. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, he was still there patiently smiling. Laughing at her.

  Afterwards, she couldn’t remember whether his mouth had moved up, or hers had moved down. Whatever had happened, had happened and she was totally lost. Maybe because of her fan crush. Maybe because he was so close. She didn’t know why and for the moment didn’t care.

  “You can let go of my shirt now,” he whispered in a wonderful bedroom voice. “I should probably get back to the Cup. It’s my day with it and all.”

  She immediately tried to let go, but his large hand covered her own and held it in place against his pecs. She made a move to pull back and let him get up.

  But before she could draw away, his hand was in her hair, pulling her face to his once again. His kiss was impatient, startling in its intensity. His tongue immediately reclaimed its territory inside her mouth. His fingers bit into her neck, but she wasn’t frightened. She kissed him just as ferociously, wanting him to remember it.

  When he gently pulled away, he caressed her neck where his fingers had captured her.

  Another push from the door and Tripp lifted them both to their feet. He moved around her to step out of the way, leaning so he wouldn’t touch her. She wouldn’t have minded. He didn’t have to try not to touch her.

  Wedging the door in place with her foot, she received one last look before he moved through. “Just one thing.”

  He quirked that laughing eyebrow up again, waiting. She could see his all too quick smile as he gently took her hand that had held so desperately to his jersey throughout their kiss.

  “You’re okay, right? I mean, I didn’t do damage to your ribs or anything, did I? Just so I can sleep tonight.” She sounded ridiculous but couldn’t help herself, she didn’t want him to leave.

  “You were planning on sleeping? I thought you might meet me at the party? Weren’t you planning on coming?”

  She was. As in she should have been there keeping an eye on him from a distance. That was the deal, after all.

  “I shouldn’t.”

  Dammit. If he saw her there now it would just be awkward. There’d be no way to avoid conversation or eye contact or...

  Oh. My. God. I kissed him!

  Totally not good.

  “But you want to.”

  “What?”

  “You want to be there.”

  “Yes,” she admitted with much too much breathiness.

  “Then it’s a date.” He started through the door.

  “Tripp?” He waited for her to finish. “Much better line, by the way.”

  He narrowed his eyes in confusion, then recognition dawned
. “I can apply effort to a lot of things. Just wait and see.” The door clicked shut behind him and she stumbled against the wall.

  “Wait and see? Oh, Lord. What have I done?”

  6

  “Deacon?”

  “What?” He was distracted by his thoughts but turned to his face his mother. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

  “I said happy birthday. Are you too tired to deal with this right now? You’re the one who asked I set up the meeting with Mr. Clark this afternoon.”

  “I know, Mom. I didn’t mean to space out. I’m fine.” He turned to the window and stared at the golf course on the other side of his parents’ property line. “Is everything ready?”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Mr. Clark is about ten minutes away. North Dallas traffic is terrible right now.” She joined him at the window. “Where are you today? I thought you’d be all caught up enjoying your day of festivities.”

  “I am. I just thought as long as I was here...” He shook his head and rubbed the smile off his face. “No kidding. I really appreciate you doing this and especially not telling dad or Gage.”

  Deacon smiled a lot of the time but there was something different about today. He couldn’t stop and it felt almost...primitive.

  “You are acting entirely too weird, Deacon.”

  “Weird?”

  “Yes, weird.” His mother tried to look at him sternly. “What is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing at all. I don’t mean to act weird.” He tried to look innocent but it wasn’t working with her. She just continued to stare at him and he felt the fun smile return that had been plaguing him ever since the kiss.

  “Spill it, young man.”

  “This is a big step. Why shouldn’t I be contemplating the seriousness of purchasing a home in New Orleans? It’s a lot of money.” He nearly choked on the near lie.

  Serious step or not, that wasn’t what was on his mind. Creamy skin that smelled fresh like citrus… Dark hair that was as smooth as any silk he’d ever touched… Tight jeans hugging hips curved just enough to be interesting and long legs he couldn’t wait to see unveiled. He had all of that on his mind and couldn’t shake it.