Icing the Puck (New York Empires Book 2)

by Isabo Kelly

  But as his fingers trailed down her cheekbones, a grin molded his lips. And her once strong resolve melted in the face of a fire that blazed all the way down to her toes.

  “Bon.”

  A sip of ice water in that simple word. “English,” she teased, grinning back at him.

  He blinked, as if he’d forgotten what language he was speaking, then shook his head. “Sorry, I forgot,” he answered, a rasp in his voice, but no sign of repentance in his eyes. “Am I able to…get extra credit?”

  She giggled. Couldn’t help herself. Because suddenly, halfway to the subway, she was thirteen years old, awkward and giggling at a guy with cute dimples and an even cuter accent. “You need to,” she said as she reached into her pocket. “A great deal.”

  He nodded as they reached the subway entrance, and then looked back at her. But not…at her.

  She turned, confused, only to see the fluorescently green taxi that was parked only two steps away from where they stood.

  “Would you like to?” he asked.

  It took her only a second to connect the dots in her head. “You sure?” she asked.

  He grinned back at her, and dear god, that grin was going to kill her. “Would you rather take me on the subway?”

  Once again she giggled, but this time, there was confusion in his eyes.

  “I…am not sure what is funny,” he managed. He was hesitant, slow but questioning. “Is there a…level of that word I might miss?”

  Idiot. Of course he’s not going to figure this out. He barely understands English, much less North American slang.

  “Take me,” she replied after taking a breath. “It also means…well…”

  She trailed off, and once again she felt like that…well not thirteen years old. She’d aged up to eighteen. And she was entirely unable to explain, much less think about, the sexual connotation of otherwise innocent words.

  But in that instant, Max’s expression went from confused to bright and gorgeous. “Your lack of words tells me all,” he said. “I think we do need that taxi, yes?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  Then she took his hand, and began to jog through the streets, doing her best to lead him toward the station that gave her better access to the subway she wanted them to take. “This way?”

  He stopped, laughing, throwing his head back. “This is…”

  “Fun, Max,” she replied, grinning. “This is fun.”

  Max

  This subway ride was…easier and harder. The car was empty enough for them both to get seats, and this time he sat next to her, bumping up against her hip and thigh with his own. He focused on her, on this express train that stopped near where he needed to go. The train sped through the night, and he couldn’t breathe.

  Expectation, nerves, and heat in her eyes. She looked back at him, then sighed. And kissed him.

  Tabernac.

  There was nobody else but her. The way she felt, the way her hands held his face, her hair in his hands, the way she felt against him, the…

  She pulled back, surprise in her eyes. “Holy shit.”

  He didn’t need his percée to understand what she’d said, even though she was speaking too fast for him to understand.

  Fear. Surprise.

  He reached an arm around her shoulder, pulled her close, and let her rest her head on his shoulder. “Ouais,” he said, forgetting what language he was speaking and not caring. “But…it doesn’t have to be a mess.”

  She lifted her head from his shoulder, staring up at him. “What?”

  “I’m…not going anywhere,” he answered. “You don’t have to worry about that. Whatever we do, we’ll do, I promise you, I’m not walking away…unless that is what you would like.”

  She shook her head. “No.” And then she blushed. “This is your stop.”

  “Would you like to come up?”

  “I’m exhausted.”

  He let her hands go for a moment, held up his own, palms facing her. “No strings. You are tired. I…have a couch.”

  “I…”

  “Would you like me to take you home? Make sure you get home safely?”

  She paused, stared at him again. Confusion, exhaustion, and…surrender.

  “Yes. I’ll take your couch.”

  As the train pulled into the station, he smiled, took her hands again, helped her up from her seat, and let her lean on him as they got off the subway.

  “Viens, bébé,” he whispered. “Come on.”

  She leaned against him, let him lead her up the stairs and along the streets. She didn’t ask how far to go, just…went.

  “Pas loin,” he whispered. “Not far from here, OK?”

  “OK.”

  And quietly, as if he held the world in his hands, he took her to his apartment. Lord knew how he got her upstairs and onto the couch. A cup of tea later, he’d covered her with a blanket and left her to sleep. He wasn’t sure if he was going to sleep. But he was tired enough that he had to try.

  Kayleigh

  It was the swearing that woke her up. Word after word in perfect Parisian French, followed by a list of phrases that would burn the ears off of any speaker of Quebec French worth their salt. Or sel as the case may be. She rubbed her eyes and looked around. She didn’t recognize where she was, but the barrage of French was a dead giveaway that the couch she’d passed out was Max’s.

  She reached out and rubbed her eyes, careful not to roll over…and off the couch. It was comfortable; she’d give him that. And so much else. Because she started to smell coffee.

  “Is that coffee I smell?”

  “One of my mother’s favorite phrases is ‘Rien d’importance avant le café,’” he said, his voice emanating from around the corner.

  She got off the couch and headed toward the sound of his voice to find him in a baggy T-shirt and sweat pants, standing in the middle of a small, efficient galley style kitchen. “Oh, merci a dieu,” she said, grinning back at him. “Thank you to the coffee gods of the world.”

  He laughed. “I’m not like my mother, but I like the day better after I have coffee, or espresso or…something, you know?”

  She did, and she nodded as she watched him work the espresso maker, her focus briefly shifting to the two tiny cups sitting to the left.

  “Are you…do you need something special for breakfast?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No. Lucky for me, I’m not allergic to things I eat. Which is a very good thing. I try to eat healthy most of the time, but you know, I’m not perfect.” At which point she stared at the box on the table. “What…what is that?”

  He shrugged, and she could see the blush in his cheeks. “Once a week, a day I don’t have a heavy schedule, I…well,” he stared helplessly at the bag of pastry she remembered him carrying along with the macarons.

  And the guilt was written all over his face. Was he expecting her to judge him for his pastry habit? Of anybody, she was probably the least likely. So she grinned back at him and shook her head. “It’s fine, I’m not judging. In fact, I’m going to partake in your Sunday breakfast indulgence.” She walked toward the table, and opened the bag. She could barely think on confronting the marvels of French chocolate and pastry that sat in front of her. “Oh, my god.”

  He put down the two cups of espresso before shrugging again and gesturing broadly toward the table and the box. “Viens,” he said.

  “Coffee and chocolate for breakfast?” she quipped. “I am not going to ask twice.” She sat down at the table, and took a swallow of her espresso. “Oh my god this is beautiful.”

  “Sometimes you need it, no?”

  She laughed. “Always, I think. I don’t think I’ve ever said no to a cup of caffeinated something.”

  “En vrai?” he asked as he put napkins in front of them. “I mean…really?”

  She nodded. “Caffeine’s always been a…mental thing for me. Like, it works when I want it to. So I drink a lot of it. But I like it the best in the morning.”

&nbs
p; “Not me,” he confessed. “I like it…but it…works when I do not want it to.” He shook his head. “And chocolate? What are you feelings on that?”

  “I’m not eating enough?” she ventured. “The fact that I haven’t started eating one of the gorgeous things in the bag right there is a huge testament of my strength of will.”

  “Which,” he said, “is entirely not necessary. So…go ahead and take something.”

  She grinned back at him. “If that’s the case, than I will.” And without waiting, she reached into the bag and pulled out the most gorgeous pastry she’d ever seen. Chocolate dust came off on her fingertips, and the flaky pastry crunched under her touch, it was so soft. If the rest of the pastries in that bag were like this one? She was going to die a happy woman.

  Max

  She was adorable. Covering her face with chocolate at his breakfast table. Drinking the espresso that he’d managed to make despite the machine’s best intentions. And, mon dieu, she was comfortable. She was relaxed.

  “Do you have…plans?”

  She sighed, sat back in her chair, and he watched her pull back. Just a little. “I have to go soon, actually.” A small sigh as she stared at the clock. “Laundry and a few other things before rehearsal tonight. You?”

  “It’s an off day, so I’m helping at the shop before heading to skate a little.”

  She nodded, sighed. “So…”

  But she made no move to leave, which pleased him greatly. Except he knew this idyll with her wouldn’t last. Because within five minutes, his grandfather, or some other member of his family, would call. Or Alain would be knocking on his door, wondering why he hadn’t come down to help him with the shop.

  “So,” he added, his contribution to the conversation as intelligent as he’d expect.

  But she didn’t seem to have words either, which didn’t make him feel better. Instead, they sat in silence fueled by the understanding that their time would be over soon.

  Kayleigh

  It took her longer than usual to get herself together and leave despite the fact that she didn’t have very much to organize. Just herself, her coat, her purse, and the door. That was it. Yet it was damn difficult.

  She could see he knew it too. It wasn’t so much that he wasn’t trying to make her stay; he knew she needed to go. He needed to go too. And yet…

  “This is hard,” she said, surrendering once again to the pull of that hard kitchen chair. “I mean, leaving.”

  He stared at her, and those eyes of his seared through her. Dear god, he was killing her.

  “Would this help?”

  And out of nowhere he stood. She followed, and watched as he walked toward her. Left, right, moving his hips, lazy and gorgeous. Purposeful.

  Because she knew what he was going to do. He kissed her. Hard, seriously, full of everything he had. Walked back, still kissing her, not letting her go, and she sank into it, to him.

  Still walking toward that door, still kissing her. He put his hands through her hair and pushed her back against the door. Metal, wood, she couldn’t tell through the heavy coat she’d managed to put on. But his lips, soft, hard, punishing and just…

  When she pulled back, she knew she had to go. Because otherwise, she’d never leave. And that would be trouble.

  From : Max_SL7@empiremail.com

  To: K_emerson@nyharm.com

  Silly question…

  From: K_emerson@nyharm.com

  To: Max_SL7@empiremail.com

  Very few questions are silly, but I’ll answer whatever you’re asking me

  From: Max_SL7@empiremail.com

  To: K_emerson@nyharm.com

  What’s your address?

  Chapter Eleven

  The Bronx

  Event: Family Skate at Yankee Stadium

  Max

  It was much easier to send Kayleigh an email than talk to her on the phone. He just liked that the emails forced him to use his English in a way he would otherwise avoid, and think about what he had to write before he did so.

  Those emails became almost a diary; even when he was only separated from Kayleigh by a busy schedule, he’d email her. He told her about the crazy party he attended, where he had to steal his defense partner’s phone and help make coffee for most of the rest of his single (drunken) teammates. He told her about how much fun he’d had with the kids from the special Olympics, how great it was to see the smiles on their faces, and how much he wished she’d been there that evening when the entire team was wearing tuxedos.

  What he didn’t talk about was the impending arrival of his grandfather, as well as both of his parents, who had been divorced for more than half of his life. At the same time.

  It had started as a special gathering for new years and the Winter Classic the next day before it extended. His father arrived first, scaring him by wanting to spend time together, maybe Christmas as well as New Years? Then his mother, who decided that he had no business spending Christmas alone with his father, said she would arrive earlier to prepare his tiny shoebox apartment when he had practice. And then, because that’s how he worked, his grandfather decided that he would join them all so that none of them were alone for any reason.

  He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to think about it, especially since they all would be in town in time to see this evening’s game. His grandfather and Alain would get both of Max’s parents to the game. He would see them after.

  But now? Now was the family skate in the Bronx, and if he was smart enough, he would be able to spend some time with Kayleigh and not just email her.

  Kayleigh

  After delays and planes and university hang-ups, her parents were supposed to arrive late that night, if not early the next day. They’d be just in time to light the last two Chanukah candles with Melanie and her family and experience a Christmas in New York. Unfortunately, that meant that she came to the family skate in the Bronx with the same family she’d gone to the family skate in Manhattan with: her brothers. And they were driving her crazy.

  Not to say that she didn’t love them. And as if that weren’t enough, over the weeks and months they’d been spending together, Kay was glad to watch a bond develop between the reunited siblings that hadn’t really been there before. Possibly because of distance, but more likely because Brooklyn, and Bryce’s new resolve to stick to the treatment plan he’d been given, agreed with the eldest Emerson sibling.

  “Come on, Kay!” Bryce bellowed, his long fingers beckoning her toward them as if she were breaking some cardinal rule by taking in the famous ballpark by herself. “Skate with your dear brothers.”

  “And risk being knocked on my arse?” She laughed. “No chance!”

  “Come on, Kay,” Mel shouted. “They’ll drive you mad if you don’t!”

  Which, she admitted to herself, was absolutely, one hundred percent, true. Even if it was only Mel they were going to drive crazy. Being a good sister, she pushed off from the wall, skating toward where they stood at where center field would be. But in true Emerson fashion, her brothers lifted her up…

  And began to spin her around. Her view got faster and faster, the famous ballpark passing quickly. “Damn it!” she shouted as she smacked one of the two culprits, probably both of them…most of them.

  “Put me down, you buffoons! I was bloody freakin’ right not to let you two…”

  But when they did put her down, she was so dizzy that she could barely see straight. “Whoa…”

  “Don’t move…arrêt hmm?”

  Max’s voice hit her ear, as smooth as the French chocolate he’d sent her from a store he’d found when he was playing the Typhoons down in North Carolina.

  “If I said you saved me again,” she managed, “it would be…”

  “Routine,” he replied, grinning. “Now you tell me when, OK?”

  And without him having to explain, she understood that he’d let her go when she felt she could stand on her own two feet.

  “Breathe, OK?”

  Whi
ch somehow she had managed not to do until he’d reminded her. OK, then. In. Out. Breathe.

  And yeah, she realized as she found herself getting less reliant and more comfortable against his shoulder, this would be interesting. But she couldn’t resist him. Especially when he was being sweet. Lord help her.

  But there wasn’t any help in sight. In fact, it was getting harder and harder to let him go, to leave the safety of his arms, and move away from the bright beacon of his lips. Even though somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew her brother would be pissed, not only because he was protective but also because Max was a teammate. But whether it was because he and Bryce were acting like assholes, or she was inspired by the winter breeze or the happy families skating across the ice on Yankee Stadium, she gave into the moment and kissed him. It was gorgeous, strong and beautiful.

  But when she felt him pulling away, she let him. And the regret in his eyes was palpable. “Later,” he whispered in her ear.

  Then and only then, she smiled.

  Event: Evening Game vs the Apples at Brooklyn Banking Center

  Max

  Max knew there would be repercussions for that kiss. He’d managed to keep his relationship with Kayleigh quiet up until that point, though how, he’d had no idea.

  There hadn’t been a reaction from Chris after practice, not even during the quick bus ride back to Brooklyn from the Bronx. So even as he sat down in front of his locker, he shoved thoughts of brotherly vengeance aside in favor of visualizing his defense-based warm-up as he laced his skates.

  “I saw what happened at the family skate.”