Hot on Ice: A Hockey Romance Anthology

by Avery Flynn

  To my fellow anthology authors: Xio, Christi, Andie, Robin, Avery, Kim G., Lena, Desiree, Robin, Katie, Kim K., Heather, Nana, Kate, Virginia, Angi, and Misty: Being on your team has been a blast!

  1

  Some men reached for booze in times of strife, but Rod Fraser preferred a strong java with lots of cream and sugar. And he needed a serious caffeine fix right about now.

  He downed a few gulps of the liquid fuel gone cold and turned the car off the highway. To-go cups of his favorite brew had been his only companions during the road trip from New Orleans, Louisiana to Holiday, New York. The twenty-plus hours behind the wheel were the first span of alone-time that he'd had in months.

  Plenty of time to think.

  Plenty of time to gain a new appreciation for the chaos and chatter his teammates brought to every hockey game, practice, and road trip.

  Plenty of time to realize he'd miss the hell out of them if he left the team.

  But if he stayed, he'd continue to be the backup goalie.

  He wanted to be number one.

  But that wouldn't happen as long as he remained a member of the Cajun Rage. The reigning Cup champions. The first team to give him a shot at the top tier of the professional level.

  A small part of his mind whispered that he should be grateful and stay where he was, but the rest of him screamed for a chance to prove he was as good as the best goalies in the league.

  Frustration laced through his thoughts, had him shifting in his seat, glaring at the cars and lights and remaining miles that kept him from home. He wanted to get there before dark. The last of the sunset streaked the horizon with red and pink and gold. Accelerating the car, he passed a minivan, then two SUVs, not slowing until he'd reached the Welcome to Holiday sign.

  He sighed and sucked down the rest of his coffee. His muscles ached from sitting for too long, his head ached from the constant debating of "stay or go," and his system jangled from way too much caffeine.

  Not that there was such a thing.

  Tossing the cup aside, he pulled into the driveway of the house he shared with his brother, Dylan. Being home would help him make the right decision. Dylan would understand what he was going through. So would his dad. Having pro-hockey players in the family was a huge help.

  Before he could hit the button for the garage, the large door rolled open, and Dylan emerged, waving.

  Rod grinned, and the tightness in his shoulders eased. He parked next to his brother's car, careful of the hockey equipment lining the wall.

  As soon as he stepped out of his SUV, his brother caught him in a hug. "Hey, you made it."

  The heat of the August night wrapped around him, along with a cool current of air-conditioning from the open door to the house. Rod slapped Dylan on the back then pulled away. Being home meant decent leftovers. "Good to see you, bro. Any food in the fridge?"

  Dylan peered into the front seat and grabbed one of his bags. "Shit. How many coffees did you have? Did all of them contain a shot of espresso? That's not a good dinner…"

  "Didn't want to stop and eat. Just wanted to get home." Out-running or out-driving his thoughts hadn't worked. He needed to be here; he needed the few weeks with Dylan and the rest of their family.

  "I know the feeling. Still, I'm glad you broke the trip into two days."

  "No way did I want to try driving straight through again." He'd made that mistake two summers ago, after his first year with the team. Rod heaved the bag with his hockey equipment over his shoulder then grabbed the two remaining suitcases. "I really am starving."

  Dylan led the way into the house. Not much had changed since his last visit at Christmas. "I thought we'd head over to Tap Out. You can grab something to eat there."

  The bar was close, noisy as hell, and one of his favorites. Rod set his bags on the floor and stretched. "I don't know. I'm kind of beat."

  "One drink. Come on. I never got to buy you that drink after you won the Cup."

  True. He'd been so busy celebrating with his teammates that he hadn't had a chance to enjoy that victory with his brother. He'd gone right from the celebration and parade to playing in the National Cup game and then charity tournaments, hoping that by showcasing his skills, he'd receive an offer from another team. A month and a half filled with work when he should have been resting his exhausted body.

  He wanted to dive into sleep, but he'd really missed hanging out with Dylan. "Fine. But you're buying dinner, too."

  "I'll even drive."

  No way would he argue with that.

  Within minutes, they were on the road and pulling into the crowded parking lot. When they entered the bar, several people shouted and waved. The Buffalo suburb was home to several of the Buffalo Bedlam players, and Dylan as team captain commanded a lot of attention. But rather than calling for his brother, people were cheering Rod's name.

  Brows raised, Rod glanced at Dylan. His brother just grinned and clapped him on the back. "I may have mentioned to a few people that you'd be back in town tonight."

  In a place that only permitted customers to wear shirts supporting hometown teams, the number of Cajun Rage t-shirts, complete with his number on the back, made him feel like a hometown hero. "This is insane. But awesome."

  "Let's get that drink." Dylan led the way to the bar.

  Rod stopped to chat with old friends along the way, declining offer after offer of free drinks. The first drink of the night belonged to his brother.

  Dylan handed him a beer, then clinked their glasses together. "Congrats on the Cup again, bud. I'm happy for you."

  "Thanks." But the win was bittersweet. First, because as the backup goalie, he hadn't actually seen any ice time during the playoffs, so the victory felt hollow. And second, because Dylan's team had been knocked out of the playoffs in the conference finals. Of course, there wasn't any way they both could have won, not while they played on different teams. "I'm sorry you didn't get to go any further."

  Dylan nodded and then shrugged. "It was probably better for Mom and Dad that our teams didn't end up going head to head. Besides, I think next season will be the Bedlam's chance. The rookies are settled, the defense is solid, goaltending top-notch, and all four offense lines are in tune. The guys have been getting together all summer, busting their asses."

  "That would be cool—both of us having our names on the Cup, to go along with Dad's." That was the one thing he loved most about the coveted trophy. Every player who won the Cup had their name etched onto the tiered bands.

  "Roddy," a voice called out, and he recognized it immediately. No one but his baby sister called him Roddy.

  He turned in time to catch Kelsey's smile and then her hug. "Hey, I missed you."

  "Well then, you should have come home sooner." She tapped his shoulder and then pulled away and gestured to her right. "Arielle's here too. Say hello."

  His gaze swept to the right and then his mouth went dry.

  A vision from the past materialized before him, wearing jeans that could have been painted on and a pink tank top that hinted at her curves.

  Arielle Charton. Kelsey's best friend and little sister to Ben Charton, his closest bud since high school.

  "Hi, Rod." A slow smile stole across her face and her green eyes shined like emeralds.

  He loved how the little tilt of her head that followed her smile always made her brown curls bob around her face. And the blush that always stained her cheeks. Small, with delicate features and a gentle spirit, she reminded him of something that needed to be protected.

  Like from him. He'd had a thing for her for years. Since well before he should have. More than a soft spot for her, it was a caring that ran deep and mixed with an attraction that he'd tried to ignore. She'd been unavailable until recently, and now that they were in the same place for longer than a few days, maybe he could finally act on it. "Arielle. How have you been?"

  The blush flushed deeper. "Congratulations on winning the Cup."

  He stood to offer her his bar stool and got a whiff o
f coffee. "You smell great."

  She wrinkled her nose. "I smell like the coffee shop. I closed tonight so Ben could be home with Jacob."

  "How is that nephew of yours doing?"

  "He wasn't feeling well and wanted his dad. I'm guessing the two of them are knee-deep into a cartoon marathon by now."

  "Rod! Hey, Rod, over here!"

  More and more people crowded in and called for his attention. Arielle drifted away, melting into the background with Kelsey before he could ask her to join him for a drink.

  One hour stretched into two and then into three. Rod stole occasional glances at her throughout the night. He appreciated the friends and fans and food and drinks that flowed his way, but by eleven-thirty, he was dead on his feet.

  Yet, when he spied Arielle hug his sister and then make her way toward the front door, fresh energy surged into him. He had to follow. Weaving through the throng of people slowed him down. She was halfway across the parking lot before he caught up to her.

  "Arielle," he called out, not wanting to startle her.

  She turned around, keys in hand, and waved. He jogged the remaining steps between them. "Hey, sorry, I just wanted a chance to talk. Leaving?"

  "It's pretty late, and I'm tired." Rather than walk toward the parked cars, she turned toward the sidewalk.

  "You're walking home?"

  "It's close."

  "I know. But it's late." He fell into step beside her.

  She shot him a smile. "Are you adding bodyguard to your resume?"

  "Where you're concerned, yeah."

  "You don't have to walk me home."

  A streetlight captured their shadows. His dwarfed hers like a giant standing next to a pixie. At six foot four, he felt huge compared to Arielle, towering over her by nearly a foot. "Humor me."

  "So…" She bit her lip, and then her head dipped down again.

  "So, maybe now that I'm home, we could get together sometime."

  Her head snapped up at that. "Like…"

  He slowed his steps, and over the pounding of his heartbeat, said the words he'd wanted to say for years. "Like a date."

  The half-smile on her face faded. "I don't really do that anymore."

  "What—date? Seriously? Because of Matt?" His voice growled over the name of her lying, cheating ex.

  Her mouth fell open. "You know about that?" She shook her head and stepped back, wrapping her arms around her torso. "Of course, you do. I'm sure Kelsey and Ben gave you a ton of details."

  "Just enough to make me want to take Matt apart limb by limb." Feeling like an idiot teen with his first crush, he rushed to take hold of her hand. Somehow, he'd already screwed this up.

  "I need to get home." But she didn't pull away. She stared at their joined hands and her fingers tightened around his by the smallest fraction.

  "Ari." He tugged until she met his gaze and showed him the hurt and longing swirling in that deep green. "I don't want to talk about Matt. I want to talk about you and me."

  "There isn't a you and me."

  "There could be."

  She pulled her hand from his grasp. "You shouldn't kid around like that."

  "I'm not. Go out with me. Give me a chance."

  "Rod." She glanced around like she expected someone to jump out and prove this was all a joke.

  "Ari." He took a single step toward her, hating that Matt had managed to hurt her so badly. "I'm not going to lie. I've had a thing for you for years. Since before you started dating Matt. Probably since I met your brother."

  "But that's more than…" Eyes wide and disbelieving, she shook her head. "That's a really long time."

  Damn straight, considering he'd met Ben when they were juniors in high school, and now here they were, twelve years later.

  "Yeah, well." He shrugged and let out a huff. He was twenty-eight years old and played a professional sport for a living, but when it came to Arielle, he had zero game, whatsoever. "If you're not interested, I'll respect your decision. But if you are…then we should explore that."

  Her breath hitched, and her tongue darted out to wet her lips. "I don't know."

  The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable. But he was feeling pretty damn uncomfortable himself, standing there not knowing how she felt. He forced a laugh. "Well, if you're going to leave it up to me…"

  That garnered a smile. "Walk me home?"

  "We can start with that." He shoved his hands into his pockets so he wouldn't be tempted to touch her again and wracked his brain for a safe topic. "Ben said you had a job interview for teaching art at the high school. Congratulations."

  "Yeah." The streetlight's glow revealed her pink blush deepening to red, and she looked down at her hands. "That congratulations might be premature. The principal hasn't made a final decision yet."

  "I'm sure you'll get it."

  "I really don't know. The interview didn't go well. The principal had a collage on his wall of all the state champion sports teams, and front and center was the picture of your hockey team, the only back-to-back state champs in the school's history, with Matt right there, with his stupid, smiling face. That threw me, and I was distracted all through the interview. I thought I blew it. Even when the principal called to tell me that he had two more candidates to interview but I was still being considered and he would make his decision soon, he sounded doubtful. I need this job. I have to get it."

  "You will. Don't worry."

  For the rest of the seven blocks to Ben's house, Rod kept the conversation centered on Ben and his son, Jacob. Arielle and Rod shared the title of godparents for the five-year-old, and Jacob was the one topic guaranteed to light up Arielle. She'd always been shy, but art was her passion, and teaching it was one of the few areas where that shyness fell away. Maybe the situation with Matt had stripped her of her confidence there, too.

  She turned to him when they reached her stop. "Thanks for walking me."

  "Anytime." He reached for her and then paused, arms outstretched. They'd always exchanged hugs in the past, but he'd leave it up to her now. Just as he lowered his arms, hers came up and their forearms collided. And then her soft laugh danced on the breeze and desire skated through his blood.

  Eyes sparkling in the porch light, she smiled. "Oops."

  "Let's try that again." Rod bent and extended his arms, and Arielle stepped into them like she belonged there.

  She smelled like the night and the coffee shop and a hint of something sweet. Her arms wrapped around his waist, soft and small and so good. He rested his cheek against her hair, and the curls teased his skin.

  Keeping his arms around her, he pulled back enough to look into her eyes. The laughter had faded. They were serious and thoughtful as her gaze roamed his face. He returned the study, the graceful slope of her nose, her smooth cheeks, pink and shiny lips, then back to her eyes, hoping she'd found what she was looking for. Hoping it was the same thing he wanted.

  She slid her fingers from his shoulders to his chest, and he feared she might push him away. "The past eight months have been really hard. And lonely. But I don't know if I'm ready for another relationship."

  Disappointment dropped like a guillotine. He eased his arms from her frame but couldn't step back. Not yet. He fought to keep his voice even. "That's fair."

  "But I don't know that I'm not ready either." Her gaze darted from his eyes to his chest, and her voice lightened up. "You've really liked me since high school?"

  The words didn't make him sound too lame, not when delivered with that touch of wonder to her voice. He returned his hands to her hips, holding on to the hope that she wasn't blowing him off. "Can you blame me?"

  "But… I'm just…me."

  "There's no just when it comes to you." He took a chance and cupped her cheek. Her face looked so small compared to his large hand.

  Her eyes softened and after a moment, she mirrored his stance. Her warm fingers caressed his cheek. His breath caught in his lungs, and he fought to maintain his control. He'd thought about this
moment for years.

  "Ari." He framed her face with his other hand.

  She moved in closer and raised onto her toes, and her hand lowered to his chest. Did she feel his heartbeat galloping?

  Rod bent further, slowly, pulse pounding, head swimming, senses overwhelmed by the tiny woman in his arms.

  Her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted on a soft inhale a second before his lips touched hers.

  Soft. Warm. Sweet. And better than he could have imagined. He angled his head, seeking a deeper taste. Arielle's fingers flexed on his shirt, and her tongue answered his tease.

  Too soon, she pulled back and lowered her heels to the porch.

  The kiss dazed him far more than any alcohol ever had. "Wow. So yeah, we need to do that again."

  She smiled but then bit her lip. "I need to think."

  Rod combed his fingers through her hair, not ready to end the connection. Needing to think wasn't a no. He released his hands and stepped back. "I'll see you soon."

  He waited until she'd gone inside and then walked back to the bar. Being with Arielle felt as right and as natural as playing hockey, as breathing. It was what he'd wanted since his junior year of high school. He'd do anything to convince her to give him a chance.

  2

  Rod lifted the weights, keeping watch on his form in the mirror. Across the room, Dylan did the same routine, matching his movements and counting out the reps.

  "…forty-eight…forty-nine…fifty. Done. Drop 'em."

  With a yawn, he glanced at the clock and continued to curl, fighting through the burn. Flying high from the kiss with Arielle, he'd stayed up late catching up with his siblings, then he'd crashed as soon as he'd hit the bed, and slept for ten hours. His body had needed the rest. He could probably have slept longer but skipping a workout wasn't an option. Following his off-season plan as closely as possible was more important. If he played for a new team, that would mean another nutritionist, along with a new training staff. How would someone else tweak his programs for optimum performance?