Cold As Puck
A Cold Love Series Novel
Violet Paige
Head Over Heels Press
Copyright © 2019 by Violet Paige
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Come Back Baby
1. Sophie
2. Sophie
3. Roman
4. Sophie
5. Roman
6. Roman
7. Sophie
8. Roman
9. Sophie
10. Roman
11. Sophie
12. Roman
13. Sophie
14. Roman
15. Sophie
16. Roman
17. Sophie
18. Roman
19. Sophie
20. Roman
21. Sophie
22. Roman
23. Sophie
24. Roman
25. Sophie
26. Roman
27. Sophie
28. Roman
29. Sophie
30. Roman
31. Sophie
32. Roman
33. Sophie
34. Roman
Epilogue
Come Back Song List
Keep in touch with Violet
Come Back Baby
* * *
Ray Charles
Oh, come back, baby
Oh, mama, please, don't go, yeah
'Cause the way I love you
Child, you'll never know
Oh, come back, baby, yeah, yeah
Let's talk it over one more time
Oh, now, now
Well, I admit, baby
That I was wrong
Don't you know, baby?
Child, you been gone too long
Oh, come back, baby, yeah, yeah
Let's talk it over one more time
Oh, now, now
Say, if I could holler
Like a mountain jack
Yeah, yeah, oh, people
I'd call my baby back
Oh, come back, baby, woo, yeah
Let's talk…
1
Sophie
I inhaled deeply. The smell was practically orgasmic. The fresh scent of a newly cracked spine. I ran my finger along the first page and leaned back in my chair. I might have moaned.
My satiated moment of bliss didn’t last long. My foot was jostled to the floor with a bang as an incredibly rude athletic frame bumped into me.
“Hey,” I squealed, trying to get my voice low and appropriate for the Undergrad Library's standards. “There is a person right here.”
“Sorry.” The hulking figure turned around. It seemed like an afterthought. He would have plowed on and hit another victim if I hadn’t said something.
My eyes rose from his knees to his waist, over his broad chest, and finally landed on his eyes. I passed right over the square jaw and plump lips. It was the ice-blue eyes that snagged me the first time we met.
I bit my lip, knowing if I didn’t do something quickly, I would turn red from my neck to my temples. The guy was hot. Over-the-top hot.
“Wait, I know you.” Even his voice was sexy. Deeper than most guys in college.
“You do?” My heart started to race. This stud knew who I was? Doubtful. It was a line. Had to be. But I was willing to hear him out.
“Yeah. You’re a freshman, right?”
I nodded, my mouth suddenly going dry and salivating at the same time. He knew at least one detail about me.
“Thought I recognized you. You moved to Penny Hills last year.”
My head tilted to the side. “Are you a stalker or something?” I teased. Now he was racking up details. I considered that he might actually be serious about knowing who I was.
He laughed. It was a beautiful, rich laugh that made the other students near us turn their heads and stare. I held in the impulse to shush him. His laugh was too pure to be squashed.
“Not a stalker, but I live there, too. Graduated two years before you. That’s what I’ve heard.”
“You’re from Penny Hills?” It seemed unlikely. Small town in the Virginia mountains with a population of fifteen hundred?
“My mom and I moved there when I was ten,” he explained.
“Hmm.” I folded the new book in my arms. “Where is your house?”
“You don’t believe me?” His thick, dark eyebrows rose. It gave me a better chance to see how long and black his eyelashes were.
“How have we not met back home?” I questioned, trying to keep my tone light.
Sexy pulled up a chair and mounted it backward. My jaw started to drop, but I snapped it closed.
“Let’s see." He held up his hand to count off the possibilities. "Maybe because I graduated two years before you. Maybe because I’m never home in the summers. Maybe because you don’t know the good places to hang out.”
I pinched my lips together. “That one is not a good reason.”
He chuckled. I did that, I thought. I made him laugh. I wondered if I could do it again. Was I clever, or was he flirting?
“Where are you all summer if you aren’t in Penny Hills?” I asked.
“Hockey camps. Working with scouts. Always on the ice. Last summer I was working out with the university team. I’m here on scholarship. Full ride, actually.”
“Wait, a minute. I might know who you are.” I leaned forward in my chair. Something had clicked when he'd spoken. I remembered hearing parts of this story before.
Little sparks in his eyes made them glow as if there were embers on the other side.
“You do, do you?” He drew out the words. He was enjoying this game of trying to make me guess who was behind the curtain.
“I heard the lady who fitted my prom dress has a son who plays hockey. That he might go pro soon. He’s good. Like NHL good. Is that you?”
The grin on his face was enough to brighten the dim basement beneath the library. I had done that, too. Made his sexy, forlorn lips turn upward.
“Bingo.”
I picked up my book and flipped open the cover again. I’d never have the experience of cracking the spine again, but this was equally as satisfying.
“That’s it?” He leaned over the cover of the book. “Don’t you want to know my name?”
“Oh, sure.” I lowered the book.
“Roman Sorrow.” He shoved his hand in my face.
“Sophie Fairchild.”
“I knew that.” He winked, sending a shiver from where our palms connected to the top of my shoulder.
“I still don’t know how you recognized me.” I pulled my hand back to my lap. It felt too personal to touch for so long.
“I saw you at Homecoming last year back at Penny Hills High.”
“You did?” I didn’t know how I had missed Roman Sorrow, but I had only been in Penny Hills two months by then. I didn’t have a group of friends. I had promised my father I’d go to the game, but I'd left at halftime.
“I heard you were a military brat or something like that. Your dad is a spy. That’s the rumor, anyway.”
I huffed. I’d heard that story my entire life. People poked and prodded me for details about Dad’s work. “He’s not a spy.” I rolled my eyes. “We moved to Penny Hill when he was transferred to Sugar Grove.”
“Sucks you had to move your senior year.”
“Yeah, it really did. Military life, though. I knew it was a possibility in high school.” I
didn’t add in the part where my dad could have deferred the position for another year. The first time I had told someone, the look of pity in their eyes was enough to teach me that lesson. I didn’t want to see it again.
He crossed his arms over the back of the chair. His forearms were toned, his hands solid and strong. I noticed a long scratch on the underside of his arm where the skin should have been smooth.
“Funny we ended up at the same college, don’t you think?”
“Small world.” I smiled. I may have batted my eyelashes. It had been a long time since I had considered flirting. I was here to make top grades. My dad’s orders. I was halfway through my second semester, and so far, I had straight A’s. I didn’t know why, but sitting and talking to Roman made me question whether that accomplishment had suddenly been put at risk.
“Two hours from home isn’t bad, don’t you think? You like it here?” He wasn’t leaving. He hadn’t moved an inch. He was still asking me questions. His eyes were as locked on me as they had been the instant he turned around and recognized me.
The way he looked at me, I wondered if he could see something I hadn’t let anyone else see before. I shifted in the seat and reached for my backpack. I wasn’t sure I could handle the answer.
“Well, it was nice meeting you, Roman.” I stood in front of him. His head lifted to follow my movements. “Maybe I’ll see you over spring break,” I offered just to be nice. He needed to know I wasn’t taking this one step further.
“Going to Cancun, too?” he asked.
I blushed. “No.” I shook my head. My dad would never let me travel out of the country for spring break. “Maybe I’ll see you on campus sometime, then.” I was ready to hustle out of there. I needed cool air and snowflakes melting on my face. I had to get out of the basement and up to the surface where I could take a full breath.
“5425 Bay Tree Lane.”
I stopped. “What?”
“That’s my address. Back home. You asked.”
“I guess I did.” I was dawdling. I knew I was. I needed air but was finding it hard to move my legs beyond getting to a standing position.
“Hey, it’s getting late. Can I walk you back to your place? You shouldn’t walk on campus at night alone.”
I swallowed. I had planned to call a campus escort at the library desk. Not to mention I walked at night with a Mace keychain, trigger ready under my index finger.
“I guess that’s true.” I dragged my lip under my teeth. “Are you going near Harper?” I asked. My dorm was one of the farther ones. Disadvantage of being a freshman.
“Now I am.” He swung his leg over the chair and placed his hand on my lower back, guiding me out of the library basement.
* * *
I didn’t expect to kiss Roman the first night. I also didn’t expect my body to win a battle against my mind. It was as if I had drawn a decisive line inside myself. Anything that had to do with Roman was an automatic yes. Everything else could go to hell—after knowing him only a couple of hours. It didn’t seem possible, not for a girl like me.
After the library, we stopped for coffee before ending the night in front of my door. My roommate, Amber, undoubtedly would complain the next morning if I dared bring someone into the room, no matter what time of night it was.
Our eyes met, each of us trying to guess what move the other would make.
“You know there’s only one way this can go,” he said, placing a hand on the wall above my shoulder. There was enough clearance that I could wiggle out if I wanted to.
“There is?” I searched all the layers of blue in his stare. “You seem awfully confident you know what it is.”
“We’re from the same home town. This thing has to go all the way.”
“Oh, really?” My eyes widened. He was bold. Cocky. But not arrogant enough for it to be a turn-off.
“Really.” His gaze settled on my bottom lip, and I wondered if he was memorizing how my lips looked the same way I was memorizing his. “Imagine if it didn’t. Could be awkward. Our families would have to eat on the opposite sides of Danny’s. I’d have to pretend not to see you at stoplights.” He smirked. “Definitely couldn’t sit anywhere near each other at the homecoming games.”
“Definitely not.” I shook my head mildly. “But who said anything was going to happen between us?” I taunted.
Roman chuckled. “I have this feeling.”
His lips caught mine just as I was about to stare down at my feet, bringing my chin upward with his finger. I didn’t know whose arms wrapped around the other first, I only knew we were both clinging and pressing fingers through clothes as our mouths moved and our tongues tangled. Not all first kisses are epic. Some are the prelude to a better kissing series. Frankly, some just suck. But kissing Roman was nothing short of epic. It had all the ingredients to keep me coming back for more: fire, firm yet soft lips, expert hands, and an attraction that lingered even after he took a step back from me.
“So that’s a yes?” His voice was practically low enough to growl.
“Yes to what?” I asked, knowing my pulse wasn’t something I could control any longer.
“You’ll go out with me.”
I looked up at him. I wanted to pretend that it was a tough decision. I wanted to make him squirm just a little. But there was expectation in his eyes, and I had the sense that if I didn’t say yes, he’d been as genuinely disappointed as I would not to go on a date with him.
I nodded. “Yes, I’ll go out with you.”
There were so many moments like that one. Moments that stole my breath and made my world feel storybook romantic. I had my chances. Opportunities to say no. Excuses I could have made. But somehow, Roman Sorrow knew he had hooked me. He knew the moment we kissed. Looking back, there was one thing I did agree with him about—that things between us did have to go all the way, because the alternative was for us to crash and burn.
2
Sophie
Eight Years Later
I always said I wouldn’t watch.
Every time. No exceptions. I kept my word.
I wasn’t the liar. He was.
I usually honored the promises I made. It was easier to keep this one when I also declared it profusely in public. I had become a professional at it. But this once. This one time, I couldn’t bury my head in the sand and pretend the biggest thing to come out of Penny Hill wasn’t in game seven of the Stanley Cup finals.
It wasn’t as if he was a bench player or a manager who squirted water in the guys’ mouths, easy to skip over when the camera panned to the bench. No, it couldn’t be that easy. Penny Hill’s star was also the NHL’s player of the year. Hotshot goalie for the Virginia Dire Wolves. Roman fucking Sorrow.
His first season out of the minors, and he had set the goal on fire and taken names every game. Analysts were stunned he hadn’t been brought up sooner. They blamed poor management and ownership problems. Everyone saw he was a star.
I wanted to pretend that the huge banners strung up between the lampposts downtown with his name didn’t bother me. I wanted to pretend people didn’t wait for my reaction every time his name was announced on SportsCenter. I wanted to pretend the newly brewed IPA slapped with his name on it didn’t matter when I saw it in on display at the front of the grocery store. I wanted to pretend a lot of things, but mostly I wanted to pretend Roman Sorrow hadn’t splintered my heart in one shattering shot. Ripping joy and hope from my veins with a single sentence.
My eyes lifted when a customer dropped three books onto the counter. I scrambled to keep them from sliding off the edge. I didn’t want the covers to rip or the corners to dent hitting the floor.
“Did you find everything you needed?” I tried to hide my irritation with half a smile.
The gentleman reached into his back pocket for his wallet, while I punched in the codes for the novels. His choices included: White Fang, The Great Santini, and The DaVinci Code. I'd learned never to judge someone’s reading selections, but the combination was inte
resting.
He ignored my question. “Everyone else is closing early. I’m surprised your lights are still on. I found these just in time.”
“Mmhm.” I was careful to lower the books properly into a thick paper bag.
“You don’t have any TVs in here.”
“I think they would bother customers. It’s a bookstore. Not a sports bar.” My voice rose to an uncomfortable octave.
On normal days, I didn’t have to explain why there weren’t flat panels dangling from the corners of my shop. Today wasn’t a normal day. The entire town had lost its damn mind during the playoffs. I was certain I was also the only business that didn’t have a hockey poster in the window, specifically a close-up of Roman’s face.
I didn’t need a life-size version to remind me how his left eye had one darker streak of cobalt blue than his right. How there was a slight crook in his nose from the second time he broke it during a college hockey game. How his cheek bones were high, but his jaw was wide and solid. How he had long eyelashes that made his eyes smolder more than anyone’s had a right to. That he was one of the few players who had a perfectly intact and brilliant smile. That it made my insides pool with lava and flip upside down with no explanation. No. No posters. Absolutely not.
Not in my store. I wasn’t going to look at that face and remember.
The customer leaned toward me, smelling slightly of mothballs and spicy aftershave. “I’d at least get one in for the last game. You don’t want to miss it.” The man handed me several twenty-dollar bills. I made change and extended the brown bag over the counter toward him.
Cold As Puck: A Cold Love Series Novel Page 1
