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

by Ellis, Aven

  The picture is of Nate, and it was taken fifteen minutes ago on an outdoor patio. He’s with a gorgeous brunette, one who is squeezed in next to his side, her arm around his neck. Nate’s hand is on the small of her back, and he’s smiling easily for the camera.

  The same smile, I realize with a sinking heart, that he gives to me.

  “What’s wrong?” Lexi quickly asks.

  I don’t answer. Instead I force myself to read the caption on the picture that Nate has been tagged in on Connectivity and is now making the rounds on social media:

  Jules Ryder: Hanging out with this hottie all night long. Instant chemistry. I’m falling for you Nate Johansson!

  I stare at the sentence, not wanting to believe what I’m reading.

  Nate has met someone tonight.

  And since we’re taking baby steps, he’s free to meet and mingle and kiss whoever he wants.

  No. No. This can’t be happening. Not now. Not when I’ve let my guard down to let Nate in . . .

  Tears blur my eyes. No, Mom, Nate isn’t gay, I think as my heart breaks. But he’s leaving the door open to see other women.

  And tonight Nate found someone else.

  There’s nothing I can do.

  Except burst into tears.

  Chapter 16

  Penalty: Punishment for breaking a rule — Nate

  “How could I have been so naïve?” I ask, blowing my nose into what seems like the thirtieth tissue I’ve used since I saw that picture of Nate and Jules. “I know he said baby steps, Nate couldn’t have made that any clearer, but my stupid heart thought I was the only one. And after a handful of dates I was thinking that. Shit, Mom’s right. I can’t be trusted to manage my relationships with men.”

  Lexi refills my glass of chardonnay. “Okay, now you’re talking like an idiot, and I won’t have it.”

  I sniff and pick up my glass of chardonnay, but even drinking doesn’t appeal to me right now. Is Nate taking this Jules girl home tonight? Is he sexily whispering in her ear in some corner of that patio? Are his fingers entwined with hers?

  It hurts so bad I can hardly breathe. I feel as though my heart has shattered into fragments inside my chest, each one a broken shard that reminds me of Nate.

  I stare down at the wine in my glass, feeling the cold against my fingertips, wishing I didn’t care about Nate and what he’s doing.

  But I can’t.

  I know it’s crazy. Totally insane, actually, how much I care about a man who didn’t exist in my life until a few weeks ago. But Nate means so much to me already. I not only let down my walls, I basically threw open the door and let him in the night I confided to him about Chase and my lack of experience.

  And now Nate is with someone else.

  “Nate met someone he likes better,” I make myself admit. “He’s free to do that. Nate owes me nothing.”

  “Well, he’s a shithead if he thinks that Puck Slut is better than you. That’s a major penalty,” Lexi declares defiantly, taking a sip of her wine. “We should go down there and confront him.”

  “No,” I say firmly, shaking my head. “There’s nothing to confront, Lexi. Nate didn’t do anything wrong. He just didn’t do what I wanted him to do.”

  And suddenly Lexi’s face dissolves in front of me as a fresh batch of tears fill my eyes. “I feel stupid for crying. I haven’t even known him that long.”

  “Hey,” Lexi says, putting her arm around my shoulders, “you don’t use a timetable to determine how you feel, Kenley. You felt something for Nate, and that’s a good thing, no matter what happens.”

  Okay, I know Lexi is being logical, but the pain I feel now will never be a good thing.

  It’ll only serve as a reminder of the special man I discovered, the one who is strong and compassionate, intelligent and funny, who respected me for being me. The man who was sexy yet gentle, the man who laughed at things I said, the man who spent hours getting to know me, simply by talking and listening to what I had to say.

  The man who liked getting to know me, but decided he wasn’t going to be with me.

  And with that thought, I turn and sob into Lexi’s shoulder like I’ll never stop.

  The next morning I wake up feeling emotionally and physically drained. My eyes are scratchy, and without a doubt I know they are puffy from crying myself to sleep.

  I glance at my cell phone on my nightstand, and my throat swells. I know there’ll be no morning message from Nate, like he usually leaves.

  I wonder if Jules got one today instead.

  I blink back tears. I need to get it together because I have to do a presentation for a hotel pastry chef today. I can’t go in there and try to discuss chocolate with curry and start sobbing because it reminds me of Nate.

  I reach for my phone, and to my surprise, I see not one, but four messages from Nate. I bolt to an upright position. Oh no. No. What if this is the let-me-down-easy text goodbye?

  I bite down on my lower lip. I brace myself to read how I’m a great girl, blah, blah, blah, but I don’t see us together blah, blah, blah, and you’ll find someone special message.

  Okay. I can read this. I can get through this without falling apart. I can.

  And that is the lie I’m telling myself before reading.

  I force myself to check my phone before I lose all courage:

  Bae, are you up? Would love to hear your voice before crashing.

  Just got in. Rhinelander is out of control. Will tell you everything tomorrow.

  Missed you tonight.

  Morning, Bae. Call me if you can before practice. Need to hear your voice.

  I stare at the messages, confusion swirling inside of me. What the hell is this? Nate isn’t acting as if he was having off the charts chemistry with some Puck Slut named Jules last night.

  Wait. Does he think he can have both? Is that what baby steps means? That he’s going to play the field and keep seeing me while going out and hanging out with other women?

  I know I shouldn’t be mad. I know that. Nate never said we were exclusive, he said he wasn’t ready for anything other than slow steps, all of that. But I can’t help how I feel.

  I’m furious.

  And before I can be logical, I snap back with a reply:

  I’m not your Bae. Hope you had a good time with “Jules” last night.

  Then I hit ‘send.’

  Within a minute I get a response:

  What are you talking about?

  What am I talking about? Does he think I’m a dumb blond? Now I’m super pissed:

  Saw your photos with fake boobs, er, I mean JULES. I can’t do this. I know you said baby steps, but I can’t sit around and watch you date other women. Some women can do that, but I’m not one of them. Bye, Nate.

  I throw the phone down toward the end of my bed. And I see Nate calling within seconds of reading that message. I stare at it defiantly. There’s nothing Nate can say. I want a man who wants to date me, only me, and obviously Nate is unable to be that man.

  And no matter how badly I wish things were different, they can’t be.

  I struggled to get through the rest of the day. But somehow I managed to dig deep and have a successful meeting at the Jourdin Dallas, The Details Hotel. The pastry chef is working on a contract for me to source exotic chocolates for her fall dessert menu, which launches in October. I came home and answered email inquiries and took a few phone calls. Now I’m headed on up to Amanda’s house in Frisco, so I can babysit Claire and Bella while she goes out with Ryan, who is off on this Friday night for a change.

  But the big thing I accomplished today was avoiding all forms of communication with Nate.

  I head up the Dallas North Tollway, into the suburbs, and blink back tears. Nate has called. Repeatedly. And he’s le
ft voicemails, which I haven’t listened to. I mean, what’s he going to say? How sorry he is that I got hurt? How he warned me he wasn’t ready for anything beyond one date at a time?

  No, a quick goodbye is what I need. Similar to ripping off a Band-Aid. Do it quick and fast, and hopefully the stinging will stop soon.

  But right now I feel like my heart is going to sting for a long, long time after Nate is gone.

  I exit the tollway and head toward my sister’s neighborhood, filled with new, cookie-cutter-type custom homes in a gorgeous development. Amanda and Ryan purchased a house that backs up against a golf course, providing a nice patch of green color in these hot—and still brown-lawn—days of September.

  I pull into their driveway, parking next to Ryan’s car. I gather up my tote and my overnight bag and get out of the car. I always spend the night in the guest room when I’m babysitting, as Amanda and Ryan prefer I stay over rather than drive back late by myself. I smile. I’m totally comfortable with driving home at that time of night. But I’ve been the kid sister in both their lives since they met at the University of Oklahoma, and that will never change.

  I hear their husky, Bogie, barking before I even ring the doorbell. I press the button, rearrange my face into a happy one, and wait for someone to answer the door.

  “Mommy! Auntie Kenley is here,” Claire yells excitedly.

  I smile at the joyful sound in her tiny voice. I see her face pressed up against the frosted-glass window next to the door, which makes me laugh. I wave and hear the door lock being turned.

  And as the door is opened, I gasp in shock.

  Because I find myself looking right into Nate’s eyes on the other side of the door.

  Chapter 17

  Honey Candy: A hard candy with a liquid honey center —Kenley

  I take a step back, stunned. I can’t process what I’m seeing. Nate? Nate is at Amanda’s? Have I lost my mind? I’m sure I’m dreaming this.

  “Glad you made it,” Nate says easily, moving through the doorway and shutting the door behind him. You know, like he’s always hanging out at Amanda and Ryan’s house on a Friday night, answering their door for them.

  And as he stands in front of me, his eyes locked on mine, I know this isn’t an illusion. Nate is here, in Frisco, with one mission and one mission only.

  To talk to me.

  “Wh . . . what . . . how . . .?” I’m so shocked I can’t even formulate a sentence.

  “You can’t avoid me now,” Nate says, his dark eyes intense.

  “Why are you here?” I blurt out. I feel my anger kick in as he folds his arms across his chest in a defiant manner. “If Amanda knew the truth, she never would have let you in!”

  “Oh, but Amanda does know the truth. So she not only let me in, but invited me here so I could talk to you.”

  I drop my bag and tote to the ground and sink down onto the hanging swing on the front porch. I gaze at the pottery containers filled with bright red geraniums in front of me, refusing to look at Nate.

  “I find that hard to believe,” I say, hearing the angry edge in my voice. “Because there’s no way in hell she’d talk to you if she knew you spent last night with some brunette hanging all over you. One who felt ‘chemistry’ and tagged you in a Connectivity picture. Does Amanda know that?”

  “Yes.”

  I snap my head up and stare at him. “What?”

  “Do you know who that girl was?”

  “Jules,” I say, spitting out the name against my will.

  “Jules Ryder.”

  “What difference does that make?” I snap.

  “Jules,” Nate says slowly, “is the baby sister of Nikolas Ryder. A defenseman for the Dallas Demons.”

  My throat goes dry. I bite down on my lip, desperate for Nate to keep going.

  “And Jules has a tendency to get flirty when she has had a few drinks,” Nate continues. “Nikolas was worried about her, so I offered to keep an eye on her because I was the only one there who wasn’t interested in chasing tail.”

  My heart leaps to life inside my chest.

  “You . . . weren’t?” I ask in a small voice.

  “No.”

  Silence falls between us. My heart is pounding against my ribcage.

  “How could I be interested in anyone else after being with you, Kenley?” Nate finally asks.

  Anguish fills me. I should have talked to him. I should have let him explain.

  And now I’ve blown everything.

  I stand up on shaking legs. I swallow hard before speaking.

  “I’m so sorry,” I manage to say over the lump that has risen in my throat. “I saw that picture and . . . I should have known better. I . . . I thought maybe taking it day by day meant seeing other people. And I don’t want to do that,” I admit. “I can’t do that.”

  Nate holds his gaze on mine. “Good. Because I don’t want that either.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No.”

  I ache to touch him, but I know Nate needs to hear more from me first.

  “I should have talked to you,” I admit painfully.

  “I wish you would have.”

  I blink back tears. “I also should have trusted you.”

  Nate is silent for a moment, and he rubs his hand over his facial stubble.

  “It’s hard to think straight when you’re jealous. And damn, you are one hell of a Texas pistol when you’re pissed,” he says, his eyes sparkling.

  A smile passes over his face, and as it does, I know everything is going to be okay.

  I throw myself into his arms, and Nate holds me close. His hand is in my hair, and I feel nothing but relief sweep through me.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur into his chest. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Nate says, kissing the top of my head. “I forgive you.”

  We stay wrapped up in each other’s arms for a moment. Then I step back from him, confused.

  “How did you get Amanda involved?”

  “Well, when you decided I didn’t exist,” Nate says, cocking an eyebrow accusingly at me, “I went through your Connectivity page and saw your Family Connect to Amanda. I messaged her, explained everything, even sent her a copy of the picture, and said you wouldn’t even talk to me, let alone listen to me.”

  I feel the heat rise in my cheeks in shame, and Nate goes on.

  “Amanda then said someone named ‘CiCi’ had filled your head with crap, and she didn’t think you would listen to her either because of that,” Nate explains. “So Amanda invited me up here because you were coming over, and she’d help me plan an ambush.”

  I can’t help it. I laugh, and Nate does, too.

  “Amanda’s a little dramatic at times,” I say, thinking of how she got that gene from CiCi herself.

  “So is some other person I know, Pistol,” Nate teases.

  “Stop it,” I laugh.

  Nate joins me and kisses the bridge of my nose affectionately. “Amanda’s awesome,” he says, sliding his strong arms around my waist. “I got here early, parked my car in their garage, and hung out with them for an hour until you got here. I like your family. They’re good people. Like you.”

  I laugh. “Hold on, you haven’t met CiCi yet. That’s my mom, by the way.”

  Nate grins wickedly. “Oh, I know. She thinks I’m gay.”

  My hands fly to my mouth. “Amanda told you that?”

  “Amanda told me she called her last night with that research finding. Which is false on multiple levels. First, I hate Patrick. Second, he’s a cheater. So I’d pick Harrison because he’s loyal. And he can cook, too.”

  I burst out laughing, and so does Nate.

  He slides his hands up to my face, and I shiver happily from
his touch.

  “How does CiCi not make you run from me?” I ask quietly.

  Nate brushes his lips against mine. “It’s going to take,” he murmurs against my lips, “more than CiCi reading Tumble,” he says between kisses, “to keep me away from you.”

  Then he eases my mouth open with a slow, lingering kiss that leaves me aching for more.

  Nate breaks the kiss and cups my face in his hands. “I still need to take this one step at a time, but you’re the only person I want to take these steps with, Kenley.”

  I’m so falling for him.

  “Me too,” I say, knowing I need these steps as much as Nate does, if not more so after what happened last night. I need to learn to trust him. To trust my gut, and not just react to the first thing I see. Especially with Nate being a professional athlete, one who is always going to attract attention from females.

  But the approach to our relationship makes me think of a piece of honey candy—hard on the outside, liquid nectar on the inside. Although it takes a while to get to the center, it’s worth the wait. With each day, we’re chipping away at the hard protective shells we have, and once we do, we’ll have something that was worth waiting for.

  “Come on, Bae,” Nate says, interrupting my thoughts, “We’ve got some babysitting to do.”

  “What? Surely you don’t want to do this on a Friday night.”

  “Of course I do. I love kids.”

  “Nate, seriously, you don’t have to.”

  “Bae, seriously, I want to. And trust me, it has to be easier than babysitting a tipsy Jules or Rhinelander.”