Hot on Ice: A Hockey Romance Anthology

by Avery Flynn

"We'll be out of your hair soon," the man responsible for the trophy said. "We know you've probably got other things you need to do."

  "No, this is fine." Mariam assured him. "The kids are having a great time."

  "I think Jonas is too. He hasn't been this lively in a while." He shook out the protective cloth and then swaddled the Cup with it before maneuvering it back into its insulated case. "Must be nice for him to be back home again."

  "It's nice to have him back," Mariam hadn't meant to say it so wistfully. She gestured at Åsa who was hovering by the door, waiting for Mariam to join her. "Even if it's only for one day."

  She pretended not to notice the curious expression on the Cup Keeper's face. He adjusted his glasses and then tilted his head to the side a bit. "We could adjust the schedule...if you want to have a little more time."

  "I can't monopolize him."

  "You could if you wanted to." He interjected. He folded his chamois carefully and then slid it into the inner pocket of his jacket. "I'm pretty sure he wants it."

  "Mariam, come The photographers want more pictures." Åsa was at the door again. She gestured for Mariam to follow. "I told them we could get a few more shots and then it was lunchtime for the little ones."

  "Of course. I'll be right there."

  She nodded a quick goodbye at Edwin and then clipped after Åsa. But what the Cup Keeper had said stayed with her. She could steal a few more hours with Jonas. If she wanted. All she had to do was say the word.

  She knew he was watching her and her body responded as if it too knew exactly where he was gazing. The tender skin just behind her ears tickled like it used to when he’d kiss her there. Her nipples had pebbled into sensitive tips that strained against her bra and longed to be suckled and pinched. An unexpected rush of heat coursed through her limbs as she led them through each of the bedrooms and playrooms set aside for the younger children. And though she managed to explain how everything had come about—the founding of the center, the desire to help children in need and how she became involved with Open Arms—her senses remained attuned to Jonas’s presence. Often in mid-sentence, she'd flick a glance his way and she'd find herself caught in the sheer intensity of his gaze. Every movement, every slow smile, everything. Each time, she'd have to remind herself to keep it together, to stay professional, but he'd do that sexy lip bite and keep those ice blue eyes of his trained on her and her resolve melted just a little more. That lip bite...he knew how to use it. And it was filling her head with far too many ideas of what he could do to her...and the things they'd once done together. God, she wanted so badly to kiss him, to nip his lower lip and suck it...

  No, Mariam, not now, she chided herself. Keep it together.

  It was maddening.

  The longer it went on, the more she wished they were alone.

  If we were alone… Oh, that was dangerous territory. If they were alone, she would grasp his shoulders and back him against a wall, then she’d hold him there and press the length of her body against his just to be reminded of the power he had over her. Her pulse quickened, her heart beat even harder.

  By the time they reached the dining hall, Mariam was frazzled. She stepped aside to let Åsa take the lead and stole a moment to try to center herself. It did no good to get so worked up inside. He was leaving tomorrow. There was no guarantee that he'd come back at any point this summer. It had taken ten years for their paths to cross. It would probably be ten more before it happened again.

  The way he looked at her. Like he still thought she was the sun. Oh God, that look could disarm her in a heartbeat. It still disarmed her.

  She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. A sense of calm spread through her body as she reminded herself that she was not a love struck young girl anymore. But when she opened her eyes again, he was walking towards her, still watching her with like she belonged to him.

  Mariam straightened her shoulders and stood a little taller. Once he was in front of her, she said, "I just needed a moment to myself."

  "I know the feeling. Sometimes it's draining when everyone's watching you."

  She stepped out into the empty hall again and he followed. Somehow no one noticed steal away, and she hoped it would take a few minutes before they did. Once they were out of sight, she pressed him against the wall, and he didn't resist. Their lips crashed together, opening without hesitation as they tasted one another. His large hands cupped her face as he prolonged the kiss, not letting her slip away. She took hold of his lapels and whispered his name against his lips.

  Her greedy lips dove in for more, the taste of him, the feel of him. And when he looped an arm around her waist and held her closer, she breathed out, "Don't let me go."

  "I won't. Not now."

  How long did they lose themselves in one another? Mariam wasn't certain. She just knew that when his lips weren't touching hers, she longed for more. His hands slid all over her, and she didn't stop him. All around them the air seemed to crackle and pulsate.

  "What are we doing?"

  "Whatever we want..." He caught her lips again and drew her in for another lingering kiss. "I haven't stopped thinking about you since I saw you at the airport."

  "It's been the same for me," she admitted.

  "We need more time," Jonas's voice sounded raspy as fixed her with another intense stare. "This isn't enough for either of us."

  "Come over tonight." The words came out of their own accord. She didn't regret saying them, not when it felt so good to be kissed and held by him again. He dove in one more time, his lips claiming hers as she strained to get closer still. Her fingers already tugged at his shirt, while his slid inside her blouse and set her afire.

  "Mariam!" Åsa's voice carried over the cacophony from the dining room. "Mariam, the photographers want you and Jonas again!"

  Reluctantly, Mariam stepped back and let her hands drop to her sides. Traces of her lip gloss stained Jonas's mouth. She gestured at it and said, "We'd better straighten up..."

  Laughing, he nodded, "Yeah, though I think they'll have figured it out."

  He swept the back of his hand across his lips, erasing the faint rose tinted print. Mariam smoothed down the front of her shirt and then retraced her footsteps to the dining hall. When she glanced over her shoulder, Jonas was still leaning against the wall, his hands now in his pockets, and watching her with the cheekiest smile spreading over his face.

  Maybe it wasn't too late...

  5

  Jonas

  There were perks to being injured. No one questioned when Jonas begged off photo ops. If it sounded like they would, Edwin countered with "You know that Magnussen has a concussion. He needs to rest." But rest was the last thing on his mind. He'd already struck three events off Edwin's sacred list of meet and greets. One was with Ove Larsson, the former director of the youth hockey league Jonas used to pay in. What was the point of meeting him now when Larsson would be at the mayor's dinner? Instead, Jonas convinced Edwin to call the practice rink near Bergshem and see if any of the youth teams were practicing.

  "You're in luck," Edwin said and told the driver about their change of plans.

  Driving there was a trip down memory lane. They passed Jonas's old school and the barracks that had been the makeshift satellite campus of the National Hockey High School until the new campus had been built. For two years, Jonas had trained there, eating, sleeping and breathing hockey twenty-four hours a day, wondering if he'd get his chance at the main campus in Örnsköldsvik.

  It was a quick visit. The teenagers there were part of a hockey summer camp and came from all over Scandinavia and the rest of Europe for two weeks of focused training. While Edwin and the guards set up the Cup, Jonas watched the teams go through conditioning drills on the ice. Above them, hung banners for the local and national teams whose players had started their hockey careers there. The chilly air and the faint, musty scent of sweaty hockey gear reminded him of all the hours he'd spent on the ice here, pushing himself through intense skating dril
ls to increase his speed and agility. He'd taken the coaches' advice to use every free moment to becoming a better player if he wanted to reach the pro leagues to heart. Even when he was with Mariam, his hockey dreams were always somewhere at the back of his mind.

  He recognized Rune Bjärresson, one of his old teammates from his days on Umeå IK on the ice. Jonas raised his hand in greeting. How many years had it been since he'd last seen Rune? Jonas was pretty sure it was close to a decade since their paths had last crossed, but at least social media meant they could still stay in touch. He made his way down to the sideboards once Rune signaled for him. They greeted each other with a brotherly hug.

  "Wasn't sure if you'd head here with Cup or stay in America." Rune said in his usual gruff way. His wild, coal black hair and beard and hard grey eyes along with his broad, muscular build gave him a fierce, wild look that had served him well during his career.

  "Had to bring the Cup here," Jonas rubbed his cold hands together, hoping to warm them a little. A linen suit wasn't the best choice of attire for an ice rink, even in the middle of the summer. "This was where it all started."

  "You look good for someone who took a good beatdown." Rune remarked. He nodded at Jonas's scar. "How's the concussion then? You still seeing stars sometimes?"

  "No stars, just headaches from time to time." Jonas admitted. "Sometimes too much light does me in."

  "It'll be like that for a while," Rune turned to keep an eye on his charges. "Leary! Push harder, make those blades cut into the ice!"

  "That's what they tell me. Thinking it might be time to hang my skates up."

  "How many is it now? Four?"

  "Three concussions."

  "Yeah, you want some advice from me? Ten years in the league is enough." Rune wiped the tip of his nose with the sleeve of his faded practice jersey. Now you can live your life."

  "I've been thinking the same thing," Jonas admitted. "I'm just not feeling it anymore."

  "I'm not gonna lie to you--I'm envious as hell of all the success you had in America."

  "I haven't been that successful. Look how many times I've been traded. When I got traded to New Orleans I was pretty sure this was the end of the line."

  "Quit complaining, Magnussen. Your team won the Cup, for fuck's sake. Then do what I did. Settle down, you could coach if you want, hell. You don't need all that league pressure anymore. You're a hockey god now, buddy, you reached your goal, and you've got the Cup to prove it."

  Jonas grinned. "Still feels unreal. You think the guys want to take some selfies or something with it?"

  "Does a bear shit in the woods? Hell, yeah! Of course they do. I want to take one with that damned thing!"

  The makings of a headache throbbed just behind his eyes, but Jonas gritted through it as he joked with the boys on the team and took selfie after selfie with them and the cup. Some of them peppered him with questions about playing hockey in America, others wanted insider advice on how to be a more powerful player. What was only supposed to be a 45-minute stop turned into three hours, but Jonas reminded himself that he'd been like them once, star struck at meeting players from the Swedish national team and being in awe of the trophy they brought home from the world championships.

  "Can you come out on the ice with us?" one of the younger players from France asked as they hammed it up for the cameras.

  "No can do. Don't have clearance yet, but I can hang around and see how well your defense zone drills go."

  He could deal with the headache a little while longer, especially when just being there with the cup could fuel their future dreams.

  By the time Jonas, Edwin and the Cup were on their way back to the hotel, it was already closing in on four in the afternoon. That gave him three hours to relax before he and the cup had to be at the mayor's house for the final photo op and dinner.

  The first thing Jonas did was take a painkiller. Staying at the ice hall for so long, even if it was fantastic to meet so many enthusiastic future hockey players, had worn him out. Several times Edwin had reminded him he needed to get some rest, but Jonas hadn't paid him any mind. He'd prioritized making certain that each of the young players had a chance to ask him a question and take a picture with the Cup. He should have listened. He was paying the price now. It wasn't just a headache. His vision blurred enough that he stumbled into the bathroom doorframe.

  "Steady yourself..." Jonas tried to focus, but the headache was winning. His stomach lurched... if he made it to the bed, he could close his eyes and the nausea would subside. "Steady there..."

  Somehow he found the bed, even as hazy aura of the headache clouded him. Rest. It's what Dr. Singh kept reminding him to do the last time he'd seen her. And he'd sworn he'd follow her advice, but so far he wasn't doing a very good job of it.

  At some point he fell asleep, he didn't remember exactly when. But Edwin woke him with an "Up and at 'em, Iceman" and then throwing open the curtains.

  Jonas squeezed his eyes shut against the invading light. At least now it was later and the light didn't feel as harsh. "What time is it?" he asked as he pushed himself upright.

  "It's five-thirty, so you've still got some time." As always, Edwin had his iPad with him and was checking the schedule again. "You need to change though. Your suit's wrinkled. Unless we've got a steamer around here."

  "I have another suit.... somewhere in my bag."

  "By the way, I made a little change to the schedule."

  "I thought we weren't allowed to make any more changes." Jonas was already on his feet now. His body creaked and groaned as he moved. He made his way over to the wooden luggage rack. His bag was already unzipped and his black linen suit, hung up. He didn't remember unpacking. Edwin must have helped him earlier,

  "You'll like this one," Edwin said cryptically. He even smiled to himself as he tapped on his tablet screen. "By the way, Zim called while you were resting."

  "I'll call him back later."

  "Your agent sent a draft of the new contract, so you might want to have a look at that."

  Jonas nodded absently. He didn't even want to think about the new contract right now. Even if he signed it, he was having a hard time picturing going back onto the ice again. Physically he knew he could do it. He'd done it before after all the other injuries he'd sustained over the course of his career, but his mind and his heart didn't seem so set on it. Maybe Rune was right. And he was pretty sure Doctor Singh would give him hell for even considering it. Jonas removed his shoes and wiggled his toes. A shower would be good, he thought. His body felt sticky with sweat from the summer heat. Not even the hotel air-conditioning helped.

  "I'm going to take a shower," he said more to himself than to Edwin. The grogginess from his headache hadn't dissipated yet, but at least the headache itself was a thing of the past. He grabbed the robe from the closet and then stepped into the bathroom. Before he closed the door, Edwin called out, "Don't you want to know about the change?"

  "Let me shower first," Jonas said as he eased the bathroom door closed. It could wait. He wasn't in the mood to review the schedule again. But as he removed his shirt, Edwin's words echoed in his head: You'll like this one...

  He opened the door again. "Why will I like it?"

  "I knew you'd want to know." Edwin didn't even try to hide his smug smile. "I re-arranged things with the mayor.... photos with the mayor and his guests and then you're free...you can have your date."

  "Seriously?"

  Edwin nodded. "It's all set. After dinner, you're free as a bird, Romeo."

  He'd come back to Sweden the summer after two seasons in the league. He was still drunk on his success. Mariam was not. He'd convinced her to come to Stockholm--why spend the summer in Umeå when they could party with some of his new teammates in the archipelago. When he'd called her, he'd heard the hesitation in her voice and ignored it.

  "I thought we'd have some time to ourselves," she'd said, not committing to anything. He was already at Ola Sjölander's summer house, a mid-century modern house of ce
dar wood, glass and concrete that looked more suited to the Hollywood Hills than an island in Stockholm's archipelago. The floor-to-ceiling glass windows looked out over the dark waters of Baltic Sea and the neighboring islands in the distance. "We need a break from everyone else."

  "Just come down for a few days. I'll arrange your ticket--"

  "I don't need you to pay for me."

  "Maybe I want to do it. Maybe I like spoiling you."

  "Jonas...I don't want to spend our first time in months together in some stranger's house."

  "He's not a stranger," Jonas lowered his voice and walked out onto the deck. Though it was nearly ten in the evening, the sun was still high in the sky, its golden rays undulating on the water's surface. He closed the door behind him and walked to the far side of the deck, away from the open windows. "Mariam, come for a few days, then you and I will go off on our own. I promise."

  "Fine...I'm only coming for two days."

  "You'll love it here, Mariam. It's amazing."

  "I've got to go. My grandmother's visiting."

  "Mariam?" He didn't want the call to end. Not yet. The sound of her voice, even when he could sense her slipping away.

  "Yes, Jonas?"

  "I love you."

  She didn't answer immediately. He heard her lips brush the microphone, a slight scrape and then...was it a sigh? "I love you too, but I've got to go now."

  "I'll book your ticket tonight..." he started, but she'd already ended the call.

  When Mariam arrived two days later with the taxi boat he'd arranged from Vaxholm, she didn't hide her disdain. He'd tried to hug it away, brush it aside as he claimed her lips and rediscovered the taste of her, but she turned her face away and said, "You could have met me at the airport."

  "Ola said--"

  "Ola?" She edged out of his arms and glanced up at the house. There was a hardness to her that he didn't recognize. "I'm your girlfriend, not his. I thought you weren't going to let this hockey bullshit go to your head."