Love In Moments: An opposites attract hockey romance (Love Distilled Book 2)

by Scarlett Cole

  “You never asked.”

  Feeling like a kid, he skated behind her. “I like your ass in these leggings,” he said, gripping her ass.

  “You like my ass in anything,” she called out over her shoulder.

  “I like your ass in nothing, best of all.”

  “No manhandling on the ice,” Karl yelled, and Anders sprinted after him. He high-fived, back slapped, and hugged his friends and family from home. The thought that they were all there for him overwhelmed him.

  He and Theo headed to the center of the ice and Karl called out to start the game. Like he would when he was a kid, Anders knocked Theo’s stick out of the way before hitting the puck. Theo shouted and called him something in Finnish he was pretty sure he’d never translate in front of Olivia. Instead, he grinned and watched as Astrid chased the puck. He stood for a moment, laughing as Karl looped back behind the straggling Olivia and gave her a nudge from behind to help her speed up.

  His mind played through loop after loop in his head. Of games played. Of games lost. Of games missed. Of games that had been played with such finesse he could barely fathom who that man was anymore.

  But he’d been the only constant. The game was never going to be perfect, and it was unfair of him to expect it to be. Coaches were human. His teammates were just as infallible as he was. He was the only thing he could control, and instead of celebrating who he was and what he’d accomplished, he’d berated himself into a corner of self-loathing and expectations so high there was no way he’d ever pass them, no way he would ever leave the ice with that sensation of a game well played.

  Fuck.

  He’d been in his own way the whole time. The game had been playing him.

  He didn’t need to leave Denver to be perfect. Just like he couldn’t guarantee he’d be perfect in Toronto, or New York, or wherever.

  Olivia was right. While he had been focused on pulling her out of the past, he hadn’t realized he was so far in the future he couldn’t enjoy the here and now.

  The swooshing sounds of blades, the scent of sharp cool air, the raucous sight of his friends simply playing, the feel of his battered old stick in his hands.

  What the fuck was he doing?

  He scanned the ice and found Olivia recovering from a slow-motion nudge into the boards by Alma. With a speed he normally reserved for the last ten seconds of a game with equal scores on the board, he ignored the puck and raced to Olivia.

  He stopped short of her, shifting his blades so he playfully showered her in a light flurry of ice shavings. Anders allowed her laughter to chase away the last dregs of emptiness he’d carried with him.

  “I love you, Liv.” Without waiting for a response, he palmed her cheeks and kissed her cool lips, teasing them with his tongue until she opened for him.

  “That’s the wrong kind of physical contact for hockey,” Theo yelled as he skated by, and Olivia pulled away.

  Anders flicked him the bird. “He’s all talk until I score on him.”

  Olivia looked to where Karl was scuffling with Wyatt and his father by the goal. “So go get him, Iceberg.”

  And with a wink, he took her at her word and skated down the ice.

  Three weeks later, Olivia studied the interior design mock-ups for the event center. She tilted her head to the left, and then to the right. The chairs didn’t work. The deep gray she’d asked for to ground the space—and to be forgiving for events catering to guests who struggled to get their food directly to their mouths—was just a touch too blue. It wouldn’t work.

  But the tables were beautiful, and the glass wall that would face the courtyard was stunning. The wallpaper had a textured effect to look like the walls had been wrapped in a cool ivory silk. The sconces had just enough sparkle, but it was the three humongous light fittings that she’d found in an auction that were going to be just perfect. The distillery had been around a long time, and Olivia was determined to sustain that ambience. Sure, there would be some new functional furniture, but there would also be a lot of vintage finds and pieces built from salvaged materials to keep the earthiness of the distillery.

  Her phone rang and she answered without looking. “Olivia Dyer.”

  “Liv. It’s Maria. I just sent you the proofs of the wedding shoot for your website with the standard licensing agreement for their use. Free, obviously, given you let us use your facility to take the images. I think the ones by the stills look amazing. Let me know if they work.”

  “Hey, Maria. Just checking.” Olivia switched to her email and found the attachments. Beautiful pictures of the bride and distillery styled in multiple ways. “Oh, the ones with Patience are gorgeous. I love that Jake and Stan are in the background.” The bride held her bouquet down by her side and leaned against the still, while life in the distillery continued around her. “These are fantastic. Thanks so much.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll be watching Anders tomorrow. Wish him luck from me.”

  Shit. Anders. She glanced at the time. She should have left fifteen minutes ago. “Will do.”

  As she crammed her laptop and files into her bag, she called Connor. He wasn’t working at the distillery today. He’d gone to his father’s liquor company headquarters to help his successor pull together the quarterly review.

  “Finch,” he said sharply as he answered.

  “Is that any way to speak to your favorite nearly-sister-in-law?”

  Connor laughed. “Hey, Liv. What’s up?”

  “I sent you some thoughts on a European campaign for Dyer’s Medallion. I think using the one we have for North America might be a little too . . . in-your-face for Europe. Take a look and let me know what you think.”

  “On it. Is Emerson back yet?”

  As he asked, Olivia caught a flash of Emerson’s camel-colored coat flash by the door to the office. “Just. Want me to pass on a message?”

  “No. I’ll call her. Wish Anders luck when you see him.”

  Olivia pulled on her coat, grabbed the piles of envelopes sitting on her desk and rushed to her sister’s office. “Hey, Em. I’m late leaving. Can you make sure these envelopes end up in the mail? And I signed off on the events hall kitchen layout, but it needs your signature too. Could you send it to the architect when you’re done? The web developer said he needs two months’ notice to build the site for us, I said go ahead. And I don’t like the chairs . . . too blue, not gray enough.”

  Emerson laughed. “Hey, Liv. How are you? How’s your day?”

  “Funny,” Olivia said, but she couldn’t help but grin. “I gotta go. I promised I’d see Anders off.”

  “I know. Go. Go. I’ll call you later if I forget any of the stuff you just spewed at me.”

  “I love your face.”

  “I love yours too,” Em replied. “Wish Anders luck.”

  “Will do,” Olivia shouted as she jogged down the corridor.

  The drive home took eight minutes less than the usual twenty minutes. Olivia couldn’t decide if it was because there was light early afternoon traffic, or she’d been heavy on the gas pedal of the Toyota. Anders had offered to buy her a new car, but she’d put her foot down and said no. Instead, he’d insured her on his cars so that she could drive them, but both of them terrified her. The Audi A8 was brand new off the lot and Olivia had no intention of being the first to scratch it. And the dark gray Alfa Romeo he’d driven in Phoenix was a terror to drive . . . but come summer, she might take it out for a spin.

  She stepped out of her car and looked at the house she now called home. Well, home for now. In the four-day break between the end of the season, when the Rush had won the conference, and the start of the race for the cup, Anders had spent a lot of time with his agent and various members of different teams trying to come to a conclusion on his future. So, who knew if this was home for good? One thing Olivia had decided—and Anders had reluctantly agreed to—was that the house had to go if he left Denver. She didn’t want to stay in a huge house, especially one that held memories of their time toge
ther in every room. Plus, he’d need a nice home wherever he ended up. He’d agreed, with the stipulation she would allow him to pay her rent. They’d settled on him paying half.

  Natalie had come through and said she’d hold out finding a roommate until Olivia knew which way her future was going, but staying there long-term wasn’t a solution, either. There wasn’t a lot of room in the small bedroom for Anders’s things.

  “Anders?” she shouted as she ditched her coat over the post on the stairs. She looked around. The hallway really needed a closet. They should get one . . . if they stayed.

  “Upstairs.” His voice carried from the direction of their bedroom. “Have you seen the gray shorts I sleep in when I travel?” he asked, tearing things out of his drawer. “I need to sleep in them. The last time I didn’t wear them, we lost to St. Louis.”

  Olivia grinned. It had been a shock, the level of superstition the players engaged in. The Rush goalie, twenty-five-year-old Nikolai Forshev, talked to the goal posts every time he played and asked them for their help. Anders had told her it was because Forshev’s hero, Patrick Roy, used to do the same thing, but Nik truly believed the game was harder when he didn’t. And only half the team had touched the conference trophy when they’d been awarded it because they believed touching it reduced their chance of getting to touch the main prize. For Anders, it was his gray sleep shorts.

  And given this was his first run for the cup, he wasn’t taking any chances, even though they had already won the first two games against the wild card, Winnipeg, at home.

  “Here,” she said, reaching into the basket of laundry she’d folded the previous evening. “Nice and clean for you to go on the road with.”

  Anders stood, took the shorts, and wrapped his arms around her waist. “What would I do without you?”

  She stood up on her toes and kissed him softly. “Travel without your shorts and win anyway because you’re awesome?”

  Anders kissed her back, longer this time, with the kind of kiss that made her body respond in two seconds flat. “Smart-ass,” he muttered against her lips as he dropped his shorts and reached for the hem of her sweater. His fingers were warm against her skin as they slowly dragged it up over her head.

  “Maybe, but I’m your smart-ass.”

  Anders grinned. “And you know how much I like this ass of mine.” His hands slipped to her butt and squeezed her cheeks.

  “I thought you were taking me out for an early dinner before you left?”

  Anders dragged his knuckles beneath the lace of her black silk camisole. “Well, I was thinking about it. We can eat out any time. And then, while I was looking at my stats, I found something really interesting.” Gently, he pressed a line of kisses from her shoulder to her neck.

  “And what’s that?”

  “I play better when you and I have had sex the night before.”

  Olivia pushed him back playfully, her mouth open in shock. “You are teasing, right?”

  Anders shrugged and shook his head. “I’m not. There I was, looking at the wins, looking at the games I played well in, and there you were the night before. You’re my lucky charm, Liv.”

  “I don’t know whether to be turned on or slightly horrified. Please tell me you don’t share this with anyone.”

  At least Anders had the grace to look a little embarrassed by his declaration. “No, I didn’t tell anyone. And please, be turned on.” He reached for her hand and placed it against the heavy erection beneath his shorts. His suit for travel was hanging on the handle of the closet.

  Olivia pouted, but gripped his dick firmly, just how he liked it. “So, I don’t get to eat an early dinner with you.”

  “Well, I mean, define eat. I happen to love eating you, Liv.”

  Olivia shook her head. “You are insatiable.”

  “I love you, Liv. I’m going to miss you. And I’m going into the freezing wilds of Winnipeg for three days while we play the next two games. I feel like it’s your duty to send your boyfriend off with everything he needs.”

  “I found the shorts.”

  He kissed her again, this time slipping his tongue between her lips. When he cupped her cheeks with both hands, she knew she was sunk. Not that she’d had any intention of denying him. She wanted to feel him inside her again before he left.

  She slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of his shorts. “Fine. I’m yours. Use me however you need. But if you lose tomorrow, don’t hold it against me.”

  Anders laughed. “Never. I’m going to win to prove to you that I’m right. Can’t speak for game four however, unless you feel like flying out for a mercy session on Monday night before the game on Tuesday.”

  “As much as that is a delightful invitation, I’ve got a business event at the distillery.”

  “In that case, we’d better do this twice, for good measure.” He lifted her into his arms.

  She kicked her heels off as he carried her to the bed. “I think I can deal with that,” Olivia said, unbuttoning her jeans as Anders shucked his shorts, underwear, and T-shirt.

  Anders made equally short work of the rest of her clothes. “I’m going to miss making love to you in our bed, regardless of the score,” he muttered, dragging his lips towards her breasts.

  “This bed has definitely been good to us,” she agreed, gasping as he sucked her nipple into his mouth.

  As she arched her back, he slid his palm to the heat between her legs, pressing the heel of his hand just above her clit. Lord, did he know just how to play her. When his tongue hit her clit, she arched off the bed. It was a miracle how quickly he could turn her on, and he knew just what to do to keep her there.

  “It’s going to keep being a good bed to us,” he commented, flicking the tip of his tongue across her swollen bud.

  The words washed over her, but then she realized he’d stopped, so she pushed herself up on her elbows. “What do you mean, it’s going to keep being a good bed to us? And answer quickly, so your tongue can keep doing whatever that was you were just doing.”

  Anders grinned and crawled over Olivia until he hovered just above her. “It means we’re staying in this house, and we can buy it or continue to rent it until we find a house we want to stay in, and honestly I don’t fucking care which it is.”

  He let her flip him on his back. But as she sat astraddle and placed her palms on his solidly warm chest, he grinned up at her. “I think I know what you’re saying, but before I respond, can you say it plainly?”

  Anders wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “This morning, I told my agent to let the Rush know I want to stay.”

  Tears filled Olivia’s eyes. Tears of relief, happiness. Anders became blurry.

  “Those are happy tears, right?”

  She swiped them away with her fingertips. “Really happy tears, Anders. We would have figured it out if you’d gone somewhere else. I hope you didn’t make the decision for me.”

  “I didn’t. I kept thinking about that day when the organization was there for us. The staff are amazing. We might win the cup, Liv. And then spending time with Wyatt and Theo and the rest of the guys. I feel like I finally belong somewhere. I see Karl. And I went out with Connor on one of those ridiculously long bike rides he did. And then there’s your family.”

  Olivia kissed him. “You have roots, Anders. That’s what it feels like.”

  “Yeah. But most importantly, I have you. I love you, Liv.”

  “I love you too.”

  “Does that mean I get to have keep-up-the-winning-streak sex with you now?”

  Olivia laughed. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

  Epilogue

  “We’re going to the ABBA Museum,” Olivia said, as they pulled up to the Lydmar Hotel in Norrmalm. “It’s supposedly only a super short walk from the hotel.”

  “I think I’d rather go have my teeth pulled out without anesthesia.” Anders pulled the cap over his face before the driver opened the door.

  “I don’t get how you can’t be proud of
your compatriots.”

  “I don’t get how you’re so damn cheerful after two flights, one of which was a red-eye.”

  Olivia jumped out of the car and twirled around. “Because I’m in Sweden, Anders. And before today, I’d never been further from home than The Bahamas. And now I’m in Europe, and look at this building.” Her jaw dropped as she studied the six-story building that faced straight out onto the harbor. “Holy crap. It’s beautiful.”

  Anders tipped the driver, who also asked for an autograph for his son. It had happened three times in the queue to clear the passport control line. It happened occasionally in Denver, especially after the announcement of his new three-year contract with the Rush. But as a member of Sweden’s Olympic team, he was more of a national hero than a mere hockey player. When he’d presented her with the tickets to Sweden for her birthday, she hadn’t anticipated the attention he’d get once they were here.

  But then again, she hadn’t anticipated a lot of things. She hadn’t anticipated that Anders would play like he was channeling the god of war during the playoffs. Strategy, athleticism, sheer determination. The Rush had literally taken on teams and spat them out the other side. Not one series had gone to seven games. Their first series had been a sweep at four. She’d watched every single game, in person when she could and on television when she couldn’t.

  Anders remained convinced that sex the night before was so important that she’d ended up making the trip to Boston between the final series games three and four, where he’d slipped into the room he’d booked for her in a different hotel and stayed for eight hours, leaving her well-satisfied and wearing a new gold necklace with a round disk on it. The disk had her initial engraved on the front, and his initial on the back.

  She couldn’t have imagined that she’d travel across the country for sex, and receive a thank-you gift for it, but then she hadn’t anticipated just how much she’d missed him or how much he’d needed her.