Bet on Ice (Boys of Winter Book 9)

by S. R. Grey

  That’s cool, he needs to let loose a little now and again.

  Despite my attempts to keep my eyes open, they close of their own accord.

  And soon I am fast asleep.

  Poor Choices

  After Alana clocks out, she informs me that there’s a small private bar in the back of the main casino.

  “We can sit there, order drinks, and talk with some privacy,” she says.

  “Great,” I reply.

  That’s all this is going to be, I remind myself. I’ll just sit with her and shoot the breeze for a bit. I simply need to blow off a little steam before tomorrow night’s game.

  It’s all harmless fun, right?

  Though I do have to wonder what Cricket would think.

  Would she be okay with me chatting up a cute cocktail waitress at the bar all alone?

  She probably wouldn’t be fine with it.

  Me, I would be pissed as hell if she did the same.

  So why am I doing this?

  Shit, I don’t know.

  All I do know is that I keep walking, following Alana through the casino.

  “You should be left alone at this particular bar,” she says, peering back at me as we continue down a long corridor of slot machines and table games.

  “Sounds good to me,” I reply. “I’ve been in the clear so far.”

  Crap, I’ve spoken too fast. A group of young guys are descending on us, and they start asking for autographs and selfies.

  I happily oblige while Alana hangs back and out of the way.

  At one point, though, one of the guys motions to her and asks, “Is that cute chick in the cocktail waitress outfit your girlfriend?”

  I shake my head. “No. We’re just…”—wait, what are we?—“uh, friends,” I lamely state.

  Hell, we’re not even that.

  What am I doing?

  Feeling suddenly guilty, though I’ve done nothing blatantly wrong, I wrap up with the guys, grab Alana’s elbow, and move on.

  “Sorry about that,” she says as she leans into me so I can hear her over a slot machine that is just fucking going off. “I thought we’d make it to the bar free and clear.”

  “Eh.” I shrug. “It wasn’t your fault. It happens.”

  I realize then that my hand is still on her elbow, and also that we’re walking kind of close, like a couple.

  Quickly, I drop my hand from her arm and give us a little space.

  I’m relieved as fuck once we finally make it to the bar in the back of the casino.

  Alana was correct—it is indeed quiet.

  There’s an old man and a middle-aged couple drinking at the bar, and that’s about it.

  I suggest we head to a private booth in a back corner.

  “Okay,” Alana says quietly. “Though I’m sure we’d be fine at the bar.”

  I shrug. “I just feel better being out of sight.”

  She frowns on hearing that.

  Moving more swiftly, we head to the secluded booth. I choose the side where the back of my head is to the bar.

  That makes me less conspicuous.

  Alana tells me she knows the bartender, and will go up and order our drinks. “That’ll draw less attention,” she says.

  “Great,” I retort as she readies to go up to the bar. I hand her my credit card and add, “Just have him put everything on my tab.”

  “Oh, okay, thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  “So what would you like?” she asks before walking away. “The same whiskey on the rocks you were drinking back in the private room?”

  I nod. “Sure, that sounds good.”

  When she walks away this time, I don’t watch.

  Yeah, this is feeling more and more like a bad idea.

  Maybe I’m just sobering up.

  So what am I doing still sitting here?

  I’m not married, true, but I am committed to Cricket.

  So why am I seated at a quiet booth in the back of a bar with another woman?

  Why am I making such poor choices?

  I don’t know.

  But I do know one thing—this stops now.

  Standing quickly, I walk over to the bar where Alana is ordering our drinks.

  “Hey,” I say, garnering her attention. “Just have the bartender cancel my order, okay?”

  “Why?” she asks, looking disappointed. “He isn’t even charging for the first round.”

  “That’s okay. I just think it’s for the best if I go.”

  “Um, okay. Here’s your credit card.” She hands me my plastic, which I pocket. Looking totally down and confused, she says, “Can you please tell me what I did wrong, Landen?”

  “Nothing, I swear.” I shake my head. “This just isn’t a good idea, that’s all. I have a serious girlfriend back home, one who I am totally in love with. So this doesn’t feel right. It’s not fair to you, either.”

  “All right.” Alana sighs. “I understand. And for the record, Landen Zehner, you’re a good man.”

  I scoff. “I don’t know about that. But I’m trying and maybe getting a little better each day.”

  I am.

  That’s why I don’t return to the private room to play any more blackjack. I’ve had enough gambling for the night. Not just with my money but with my life.

  Heading straight to the lobby of the casino, I find the driver of the shuttle and make arrangements for him to run me back to the team hotel, where I can’t get into any more trouble.

  I plan to call Cricket first thing.

  Even though I came to my senses before anything stupid went down, I fully intend to keep the events of this night to myself.

  It doesn’t matter, anyway.

  Nothing happened.

  Plus, the one good thing that came out of tonight is that it’s made me realize what I want and who I truly love—Cricket.

  Other than that, as far as I’m concerned, this is all a blip on the radar that never happened.

  Game Night and Games

  I miss Landen’s phone call—it comes in late at night—but he catches me first thing in the morning as I’m waking up.

  “Hey, beautiful, what are you doing?” he asks, sounding cheerier than I think I’ve ever heard him this early in the day. “I leave for practice in a few, but I wanted to check in since I missed talking with you last night.”

  Yawning and stretching, I reply, “That’s very thoughtful of you. As for what I’m doing, I’m in bed and just waking up.”

  “Ahh,” he coos softly. “I wish I were there with you. We could usher in the new day properly, eh?”

  I groan, thinking of all the ways we absolutely could do that if Landen were in my bed with me.

  “Ugh, I wish you were here too,” I say. “So…damn…much.”

  “We better change the subject,” he replies softly. “I’m in the hotel lobby sitting on a couch. I’m by myself, but there are employees floating around. It’d be a little awkward to get aroused.”

  That makes me laugh. “Yes, I would think. I’ll be good.”

  Clearing his throat, Landen asks, “So what are your plans for today?”

  “Just work stuff.”

  “Do you have any events on the schedule?”

  “Not today. I’m just going into the office.” I prop a pillow up behind me and lean back. “There is an event tomorrow, though.”

  “Oh, yeah? What are you doing?”

  I blow out a breath. “Well, I’ll be taking a couple of the guys who are still in town over to the children’s ward at the hospital.”

  “Ahh, that sounds nice.”

  “It should be.” I pause, and then say, “Oh, and on a side note, I’m sorry I missed your call last night. I crashed kind of early.”

  “No worries,” Landen says flatly.

  I decide to hold off on telling him about the office supplies. I want them to be a surprise, especially the prints.

  Sighing, I ask, “So how was your night out with the boys?”

  Lan
den is oddly silent for what feels like a really long time, and then he says, “It was all right.”

  “Just all right? You went gambling, right?”

  “Uh-huh.” He clears his throat. “We did.”

  “Did you win anything?”

  “No, I lost.”

  There seems to be a deeper meaning to his words, so I have to check, “Is everything okay? You sound kind of…off.”

  “It is, Cricket. Everything is fine.” He sighs deeply. “Still, I just want to tell you that I’m sorry.”

  A sense of concern that something is wrong comes over me.

  Tentatively, I ask, “Sorry for what exactly?”

  Landen swallows hard. “For starters, I’m sorry for not saying ‘I love you’ before I left. I’m also sorry for not texting it to you yesterday. That was wrong and stupid of me. I do love you, babe. I love you a lot. I just got a little freaked out, is all. But I’m, uh, better now.”

  I’m elated at what he’s saying, but I’m scared that he just admitted he got a little freaked out.

  That’s not good.

  It confirms my fears.

  And now I have to wonder. Is there more to this sudden realization of his?

  No, he’d tell me if there were.

  I’m just overreacting.

  I’m sure of it.

  Damn it, it’s so freaking hard to communicate over the phone when you’re missing each other so much.

  We need to be in person.

  Do we ever!

  Sighing, I don’t press and just say, “I love you too, Landen. I miss you so much.”

  He sounds desperate when he replies, “Fuck, I miss you too. I can’t wait to hold you again in my arms.”

  “Among other things,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

  It seems to work, as he’s in full fun mode when he replies, “You bet your ass, babe.”

  Ah, things are getting back to normal.

  Cheerily, I tell him, “Just play good hockey and the time will fly.”

  “You’ll watch the games on TV?” he asks, like there’s any question about it.

  “You know it. In fact, I already have plans for Bettina to come over tonight for a viewing party.”

  “Cool.”

  Just then I hear a few of the other guys in the background.

  “Do you have to go?” I ask.

  “I do.” He sighs. “My teammates are coming down, and it looks like the busses are lining up to take us over to the practice facility.”

  I nod even though he can’t see me. “Okay, I’ll let you go.”

  “Talk soon?”

  “You know it.”

  “Love you.”

  “I love you too, Landen.”

  We disconnect and I kind of sit quietly in bed, thinking and tapping the phone to my chin.

  Despite the call ending on a good note, the nagging feeling that something was off returns.

  Too bad I have no time to dissect and figure it out.

  I need to shower and dress and get my butt to work.

  So, tossing the phone aside, I get started on my day.

  Bettina and I check again to make sure we’re fully prepared for the game.

  “Are the nacho chips and hot and mild salsas in there?” I call out from the kitchen, where I’m taking boneless hot wings out of the oven. “Also check for the queso. We must have that.”

  “Yes, yes, and yes!” Bettina yells back from the living room. “Didn’t you see me grab the bags from the pantry, the salsas from the fridge, and the queso from the microwave?”

  After setting the pan of dry rub wings on the counter to cool, I walk over to the doorway that leads from the kitchen to the living room.

  Leaning against the jamb, I say, “No, I didn’t see you. You must’ve done all of that when I was upstairs changing.”

  Work ran late today. When I arrived at my townhouse, Bettina was already outside waiting in her car.

  We rushed in, and while she went to the kitchen, I made a beeline upstairs to change into comfy leggings and a black-and-red Wolves sweatshirt.

  “Ah, yes,” she says. “You were still up there now that I think about it.”

  “That’s okay. It doesn’t matter.” I straighten and shrug. “What do you want to drink?”

  “Diet Coke is fine.”

  “Cool.” I turn back to the kitchen. “I’ll grab a can for each of us.”

  I take in the cold colas and return to the kitchen to plate the wings.

  I divide them as evenly as I can, grab a big pile of paper napkins, and then head back into the living room with essentials in hand.

  “Here you go.” I set Bettina’s plate down in front of her on the coffee table. “Oh, wait, I brought napkins too.”

  I hand her a bunch, and she says, “Thanks, Cricket.”

  “Not a problem.”

  I sit down next to her and turn on the big TV on the wall.

  “So the Wolves are playing the Blackhawks tonight, right?” she asks.

  I pick up a chicken wing, blowing on it to cool it down. “Yes.”

  “And Landen’s still on the third line?”

  “Uh-huh.” I take a bite of the wing.

  “What’s going on with the trade deadline? Does Landen have any inside scoop? Are the Wolves picking anyone up?”

  After swallowing, I reply, “Yeah, I think so. He didn’t confirm anything, but I heard a rumor today at the office that we’re looking hard at Sebastian Alderman.”

  Bettina asks, “Who does he play for again?”

  “He’s with the Florida Panthers.”

  “Ah, that’s right. I’ve been so busy with school and work that I’ve been slipping on keeping up with hockey-related things.” She takes her phone from her gray hoodie pocket. “Let me look him up.” As she starts tapping and scrolling, she murmurs, “Let’s see, let’s see…”

  “You are so funny,” I note, shaking my head.

  But she’s not laughing when she suddenly exclaims, “Holy crap! This dude is hot as hell. How have I never heard of him before?”

  “Probably because he plays for a team on the other side of the country,” I suggest.

  “Yeah, maybe.” She holds up her phone. “Here, check him out.”

  I take her phone and peer down at the image of Sebastian on the screen—his headshot from the Panthers’ website.

  “Wow, very nice.”

  Sebastian Alderman is one fine-looking man. He has coppery brown hair, deep brown eyes, and what looks to be a super-muscular build, based on his wide shoulders.

  Nodding approvingly, I hand Bettina her phone back.

  Staring down at the image of Sebastian longingly, she says, “When is the trade deadline again? Maybe you and Landen can set me up on a date with this dude. Then I too could have hot paint sex stories to tell.”

  She’s totally kidding.

  Or maybe not.

  Laughing, I tell her, “Oh, stop. The deadline is tomorrow. If you’re serious, let’s see if this dude even ends up in Vegas. Okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She waves her hand. “You’re right. But if he does end up here…” She winks over at me with her big brown eyes. “…then I definitely want to meet him.”

  Laughing, I just shake my head and turn my attention to the TV.

  I’ve had the pregame programming on mute, but the game is about to start. So I turn the sound back on.

  The teams start coming out onto the ice.

  Yes!

  First up are the Wolves, to a chorus of boos.

  The Hawks skate out next to barrage of cheers from their fans.

  Not surprising since they’re the home team.

  As the game gets underway, Bettina and I feast on chips and wings.

  The action is good. The Wolves end up pretty much dominating Chicago. Landen doesn’t score any goals, but he does rack up an assist on a Nolan Solvenson goal after Coach Townsend changes up the lines.

  By the time the third period is coming to a clo
se—with a score of 6-1—Bettina is paying more attention to her phone than to the TV.

  “What are you doing over there?” I ask as the horn sounds, signaling the end of the game, with a victory for the Wolves.

  As I turn down the volume, she says, “I’m still looking at hockey stuff.”

  “Man, you really are into this Sebastian guy, huh?”

  She looks over at me and rolls her eyes. “It’s not just him that I’m checking out. Apparently there are a lot of other hot hockey dudes I’ve somehow neglected to notice.”

  “Mmmhmm,” I agree. “I can’t argue with the hot, hockey dudes observation. It’s so true.”

  “Oh, jeez, you just mean your Landen. You are so into that guy that it’s not even funny.”

  “I am,” I confess, sighing wistfully.

  “Okay.” She focuses back on her phone. “Let’s see what’s online about him.”

  I snort, “Like I don’t check the internet every day?”

  “Yes, but I have a feeling you’re not as thorough as I can be. Like, let’s see if he’s tagged in any random fan photos.”

  “Hmm, I don’t ever really do that,” I admit. “That’s true.”

  “You should,” she warns.

  Still certain she won’t find anything of interest, I mutter, “Sure, whatever. Do what you want. Knock yourself out.”

  I’m feeling pretty confident, until she’s holding up her hand and exclaiming, “Whoa, wait a gosh darn minute here!”

  “What is it?” I ask, my stomach churning.

  Bettina bites her lip and holds the phone protectively against her chest.

  Shit, this must be bad.

  “Give me that,” I demand, reaching for her phone.

  “No, Cricket, no…”

  Luckily, I’m quicker than her and in possession of her phone in an instant.

  “Now let me see what’s so damn inter—what the fuck!”

  I’m rendered speechless.

  Until I muster up enough righteous anger to grind out, “What the hell is this shit?”

  What the hell is this shit is right.

  Before me on the screen are photos of Landen—my Landen—hanging with some floozy cocktail waitress in a ponytail.

  And they’re in multiple locations!

  I scroll and scroll.