The Definition of Icing: A Dallas Demons Hockey Romance (Dallas Demons Series)

by Ellis, Aven

  I put the salmon down on the countertop and begin to unwrap it. “Wow, I had no idea you guys did that kind of training.”

  “Nutrition is a big part of elevating your game. So they had a dietitian talk to us about proteins, fats, eating vegetables. Then I went on my own and learned more about Paleo, and decided that’s the primary way I want to eat. I mean, I don’t always do it to the T, but I try to be strict with my eating most of the time. I feel better when I do.”

  “That’s great that they teach players that stuff,” I say honestly. “It makes sense to arm you guys with that information, so you’re taking care of yourself when you’re on your own.”

  I glance down at my salmon while I’m talking and instantly wrinkle my nose.

  “What?” Nate asks.

  “I forgot to tell them to take the skin off the fillets,” I say. Then I glance over at Nate. “I hate fish skin.”

  “Oh, you don’t say?” he says, grinning at me.

  “It grosses me out,” I admit. “It’s slimy. Blech.”

  “Are you cooking this purely on my behalf tonight?”

  Okay, Nate stumbled on to the truth. And since being honest with him has worked so far, I decide to keep rolling with that theory.

  “Yes,” I admit. “I’ll eat salmon, but I’m not wild about preparing it.”

  “Then I’ve identified my job,” Nate says easily, playfully nudging me out of the way.

  “Nate, no, I want to cook for you,” I protest.

  “You are,” he says easily, sliding the fish in front of him. “And remember, I love fishing. I can get the skin off this in no time. Now where are your knives?”

  “They’re over there,” I say, nodding in the direction of the knife block at the end of the countertop.

  “So what else did you put on the menu tonight?” Nate asks as he goes about choosing a knife for the salmon.

  “Baby bok choy,” I say. “And shiitake mushrooms.”

  “Nice choices, Bae.”

  I giggle. “Quit calling me Bae.”

  “Come on, you love it.”

  Oh, Nate, you have no idea how much I love it.

  “I do not,” I lie. And this is my one asterisk to my truth-telling policy tonight.

  Besides, it’s flirting. I know Amanda would approve of this move.

  As opposed to telling Nate I downloaded cookbooks for him.

  “Don’t make me put you in the corner,” Nate flirts back. “But then again, nobody puts Bae in a corner, according to the script of the greatest movie ever.”

  “Stop mocking my favorite movie,” I protest, laughing as I begin prepping the ingredients for the bok choy.

  Nate turns the fillets around and begins skinning them in an expert manner.

  “You really do know how to do that,” I say aloud, watching him.

  “You betcha.” Nate grins as he continues to carefully remove the skin. “I spend a lot of time fishing in the summer in Minnesota, and I do all the filleting myself of anything I don’t throw back.”

  I scrape the peel from the ginger with the back of a spoon. “I’ve never been fishing.”

  “I should put you in the corner for that fact alone.”

  I laugh. “The idea of touching fish skin creeps me out.”

  “You’re weird.”

  “I know, I am,” I admit, glancing at Nate.

  “It’s okay. I like the fact that you’re weird.”

  “Um, thanks, I think,” I say, grinning.

  “Total compliment. Because if you haven’t noticed, I’m weird, too.”

  “You’re right. Because being afraid of chocolate with salt is weird.”

  Now Nate laughs as he finishes another fillet. “No, that’s normal.”

  “So what makes you weird?” I ask, opening my tool drawer and taking out my grater.

  “I’m not giving that up.”

  “What? You have to,” I declare.

  “Nope. You’ll have to stick around and discover that yourself,” Nate declares.

  Butterflies shift in my stomach from his words. Every time I’m with Nate I find myself wanting to run to him, just like he wants to run to me. My brain is still throwing up a yield sign, but my heart wants to ignore them.

  And once again my heart is winning.

  “Where’s Lexi?” Nate asks, changing the subject.

  “She’s having dinner with her parents tonight,” I say, reaching for a clove of garlic. “And since they live in Flower Mound now, she’s going to spend the night up there.”

  Nate nods. And I give Lexi the BFF award of the year for giving me the place to myself tonight so I could spend time alone with Nate.

  And our evening alone turns out to be perfect. We cook together, talking and laughing the entire time as we do. Afterward, we snuggle up on the couch, not even bothering to turn on the TV. All we’re interested in doing is kissing and talking and getting to know each other better in this precious time we have before his season starts.

  Now I’m curled up to Nate, his arms wrapped around me. I trace my fingertips over the tattoo on his right arm, and a heavy feeling washes over me as he talks about training camp starting next week.

  “So you leave next Friday for Ft. Worth?” I ask softly.

  “Yep. Camp runs until Sunday,” Nate explains, gently running his fingers through my hair in a repetitive pattern. “We’ll have some practices and community events, and some team bonding activities, too. Then the next night we have our first exhibition game against the Cleveland Wildcats at the Premier Airlines Arena. I won’t play much in that one, though.”

  I nod. I know Nate will be gone a lot, as that’s the life of a professional hockey player. I have no right to think beyond this night, but I do. And I know I’m going to miss not having him in Dallas when he’s on the road.

  “Nate?”

  “Mmmm?” he murmurs, pausing to kiss the top of my head.

  “I’m going to miss you when you’re not here.”

  “What will you miss about me?”

  I listen to his heart beat inside his chest. “I like being in your arms,” I say, still tracing the elaborate pattern of his tattoo with my fingertip. “I like feeling your fingers wrapped around mine when you reach for my hand. I like how you always want to know more about me when you’re with me. I like making you laugh. I just like being with you, Nate. I’m going to miss being with you.”

  My heart drums anxiously inside my chest. Nate’s hand has stopped moving through my hair, and silence hangs in the air between us. But this time, I know I’m not scaring him, not after what he admitted earlier in the kitchen.

  “I’m going to miss your eyes,” Nate says slowly. “Because you show your emotions with them. I’m going to miss talking with you over dinner like I’ve done the past three nights. I’m going to miss making you blush. I’m going to miss you, Kenley. I’m going to miss this.”

  Nate then turns my head to face him, and he kisses me, a gentle kiss that tells me I’m in exactly the right place with the right man.

  We’ve both been hurt. Betrayed by people we loved. As a result, we’ve both vowed to shut people out. I was all about Confection Consultations; Nate was all about hockey.

  Yet here we are, finding something with each other we swore we’d never let ourselves find again.

  And as I feel Nate’s warm lips move against mine, I know how I feel. I’m falling for Nate, the man he is, powerful and gentle, honest and loyal. I know I’m still learning who he is, his likes and dislikes, his past and present and flaws, just as he is discovering the same things about me.

  But there are some things you just know.

  Nate is the man I’ve been looking for.

  That is my theory.

  And
I don’t see how anything could ever change that.

  Chapter 15

  Unsweetened chocolate: The first word that comes to my mind? Bitter! — Kenley

  “So do you want the usual?” Lexi asks, pulling up the website for our favorite Chinese restaurant in Uptown on her iPad.

  It’s Thursday night, and I just got back from teaching a class on pairing brandy with chocolate. I slip off my heels and park them under the coffee table, tucking my legs up underneath me.

  “Yes,” I say, knowing that Lexi knows that means I want Kung Pao chicken and a bowl of hot and sour soup.

  “Okay,” Lexi says, keying in my order. “And what will Nate have?”

  I feel my face heat up. Lexi grins mischievously at me, as she knows this is the first night all week I’m not seeing him.

  “Oh, shut up,” I laugh.

  “I bet you do know what he’d order, though,” Lexi says.

  I can’t help but smile. I could study this menu and figure out what Nate would order, just like I know what magazine he’d pick up in a bookstore, or that he sends a daily tweet in the morning promoting an animal from Purr & Wag that needs a home. It’s been less than a week since we started seeing each other, but we’ve spent hours talking, digging deeper, learning more about each other every single time we’re together. I know more about Nate in five days than I did after months with Chase.

  It shows what baby steps can do, I think as I hear Lexi place our delivery order.

  And that’s what makes me want to run to Nate. It’s important to him, not just me, that we understand each other before we go further. Old-fashioned? Yes. But what we both want? Absolutely yes.

  This is the first day I haven’t seen him since Saturday. Tonight I had a class to teach while he was going out with Matt Rhinelander, the other player involved in the Black Bears trade, and a few Dallas Demons for a guys’ night out.

  “Okay,” Lexi says, setting her iPad aside, “the food should be here in 45 minutes.”

  “Ugh,” I groan. “I’m already starving.”

  “I know, me too.”

  “How was your day?” I ask.

  Lexi wrinkles her nose as she picks up the remote and begins to flip through channels. “Well, after spending hours on redesigning the customer page, and having the client I report to tell me it was perfect, providing minimal feedback, all that crap, she turns around today and says it’s all wrong and needs massive revisions.”

  “Shit,” I say, biting my lip.

  Lexi rakes a hand through her shiny auburn hair. “I know. That girl totally blew me off, and when her boss hated it, it became my problem and not hers. I wish I could get a job in TV production.”

  I nod. Lexi desperately wants to work as an editor in sports TV production, which is what she studied for at TCU. But so far she hasn’t had any luck getting on with local networks or Total Access Total Sports.

  “And, on top of that,” Lexi continues, “I got another stupid online dating message from a guy who asked me to send him a picture of my feet.”

  I shriek. “What? Are you serious?”

  Lexi laughs. “Yes, the guy was into feet. That’s all he talked about in his message to me. Like how I cared for them, what color polish was I wearing, what shoes did I have on . . . then he asked for a photo.”

  “What a weirdo!”

  “Right? So I found a picture of disgusting feet online. Old feet with horrible warts and dry skin. Then I sent it to him and banned him from contacting me again.”

  I crack up, and so does Lexi. She leans back on the sofa and gives me a pleading face.

  “Can Nate find a good Dallas Demon for me?” she asks. “I even understand hockey. Surely that has to be a bonus, right?”

  I smile at her. “I promise you if Nate and I keep progressing, I’m going to have him find you a hockey hottie.”

  “And I’m trusting Nate to make sure he’s not of the womanizing variety,” Lexi adds, shooting me a knowing look. “I don’t want CiCi coming after me for dating a hockey player.”

  I groan, and Lexi laughs. I told her all about CiCi’s conversation at lunch, and she was dying laughing when I recounted how my mom resorted to Google to prove her point.

  Lexi settles on a rerun of The Big Bang Theory, and we chat until our food arrives. By now we’re both ravenous and immediately dig in, as it’s well past the time we normally eat dinner.

  I take another sip of my hot and sour soup, and my cell starts ringing. I glance down and see that CiCi is calling.

  “It’s my mom,” I say, setting my container of soup on the table.

  “Oh, answer it,” Lexi prods. “It’ll be so entertaining.”

  “Shut up,” I tease, answering the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Kenley! Thank God I got you,” my mom declares dramatically.

  Oh, crap. The last time Mom sounded like this it was to go off on Dad’s new girlfriend.

  “Hi, Mom,” I say, sounding positive.

  “Sweetheart, I’ve been doing some research on Nate and—”

  “What?” I snap angrily. “What do you mean, ‘researching Nate?’ You have no right to do that, Mom. None.”

  I see Lexi’s eyebrows shoot straight up. I’m so angry I begin shaking. How dare she do this? I haven’t even done this. Lord knows what crap she has dug up on the Internet, horrible things, things that aren’t even true.

  “Honey, I knew you’d be mad, but I’m so worried about you being carried away by seeing a professional athlete,” Mom says. “Your head might not be in the right place to see the truth about him.”

  “Mom, this is upsetting, you know that? I’m an adult. I wouldn’t see Nate if he weren’t nothing but a good man. But the fact that you think I’m too stupid to make my own decisions hurts.”

  “Kenley, of course I don’t think that. But I think your judgment could be clouded by a smooth-talking womanizer. Or is he really into women?”

  Oh crap, what has she read?

  “Do you care to explain that?” I ask, suddenly feeling a pounding in my temples.

  “I was Googling him—and you should have already done this—but I found a link to this Tumble thing—”

  “Mom, it’s Tumblr. Not Tumble.”

  Lexi bursts out laughing as she’s eating, and a portion of her spring roll goes flying across the table, and now we’re both dying laughing.

  “This is serious, Kenley,” Mom says with annoyance.

  I clear my throat and try to regroup. “Okay, so what did you read on Tumblr about Nate?”

  “He’s gay.”

  “Nate isn’t gay!” I cry, exasperated.

  Lexi is dying all over again. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. My mother is on “Tumble” and swears she has found proof Nate is gay.

  I so can’t wait to tell Amanda about this.

  “Yes! I read this article, and it was about Nate and his former teammate, Patrick. They were having this affair, you see, and when it was on the verge of being discovered, Nate asked to be traded so the secret wouldn’t be exposed.”

  I sit in silence. I have no words.

  “Kenley? Don’t you see? Nate is using you as a cover.”

  “Mom,” I say, trying to remain calm, “I think you read a Fan Fic.”

  “What? No, it was on Tumble.”

  “Tumblr,” I correct, “and I can guarantee you it was fiction. Fans write stories about things. Including hockey players, Mom.”

  Mom snorts. “Obviously you can believe what you want, but I think it makes sense. I’m sending you the link.”

  “Why does it make sense? That Nate couldn’t possibly like me for me?”

  “No, why he wants to move slowly,” Mom says, her voice taking on a knowing ton
e. “It’s because he can’t be sexual with you.”

  “Okay, I’m going now,” I say. “We’ll talk later when you can be rational.”

  “I sent you the link.”

  “Right. Bye, Mom.”

  And then I hang up.

  Lexi stares at me, waiting for me to tell the story.

  “I can’t even,” I say, shaking my head.

  “She read a gay Fan Fic, didn’t she?” Lexi asks.

  I look at her, she looks at me, and we both lose it. We’re laughing, we’re crying, whenever we catch each other’s eye we die all over again.

  Finally we stop.

  “You have to pull this up,” Lexi pleads.

  I nod. I swipe open my emails, find Mom’s link, and then open up the page on Tumblr. And sure enough, it’s a gay romance written by a Black Bears fan.

  Which makes us hysterical all over again.

  I wipe the tears from my eyes and take a breath. “Someday I’m going to tell Nate about this. But can you imagine if I told him now? He would run screaming and never turn back!”

  “You can tell him after he proposes,” Lexi says, grinning.

  I shake my head. Just then another email from my Mom comes across.

  “Oh, no, Mom sent me another link.”

  “Please open it. This is so fun.”

  “I hate you,” I tease, clicking on the link.

  But the second I do, my world stops. My heart sinks. I suddenly feel as if I’ve been told I’m about to taste a luxury chocolate and have been fooled and given an unsweetened piece instead, leaving a bitter and disappointing taste in my mouth.