Skirting the Ice (The Bannister Brothers #3)

by Jennie Marts

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Books by Jennie Marts

  ICING ON THE DATE

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Copyright

  SKIRTING THE ICE

  A Bannister Brothers Book

  Book Three

  By Jennie Marts

  This book is dedicated to Todd

  My favorite cute nerd

  You + Me = Always

  Chapter One

  Jack Bannister’s feet pounded the pavement as he rounded the last corner and jogged up his driveway. He bent forward, trying to catch his breath, his fingers closing around the inhaler in his pocket as he felt his lungs tightening.

  Stupid asthma.

  Focusing on the air moving in and out of his lungs, he worked to even out his breathing.

  The jogging sometimes made it worse, but the benefits of the exercise outweighed the chances of an attack. Plus the running felt good.

  It was barely past eight in the morning, but the Colorado sun already beat down on him, and he stripped off his T-shirt and wiped the sweat from his forehead as he walked toward his apartment above his parent’s garage.

  A flash of color drew his attention, and he swiped his hand across his foggy glasses as he squinted over the chain link fence into his neighbor’s yard.

  What the heck?

  Maggie, his Shetland Collie dog, was running around the neighbor’s yard. A consummate escape artist, she was always digging her way out of her own yard. He leaned over the fence and called to her. “Maggie, get over here.”

  The dog ignored him as she happily explored the neighbor’s yard. He looked up at the house with a pang of regret, always wishing he would have tried harder to stay in contact with Murphy.

  But Murphy was long gone now. It had been over ten years since he’d seen her.

  Murphy Ryan had been and always would be his dream girl—the one he measured every other woman against. Murph had been funny and sweet and had been the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.

  She’d shown up the summer he’d turned thirteen, moving in with her grandfather, John, while her dad was on the road for the season. She’d come back the next three summers, getting prettier every year.

  Then one day she was gone, and he never saw her again. Jack had heard her dad got a new job so he didn’t have to travel anymore, and that first winter her grandfather had a stroke, and she hadn’t ever come back. John had been moved to an assisted living facility, and the house had sat empty for the first few years, eventually turning into the neighborhood eyesore as a series of renters moved in and let the house and yard fall into disrepair.

  The property had been vacant the last several months, and he’d heard that John had died recently.

  “Maggie,” he called again. The dog continued to ignore him. He hung his shirt over the fence, then hopped over the waist-high chain link and crossed the yard. The dog must have thought they were playing a fun new game, because she raced around the grass, barking and refusing to come to him when he called.

  The heat continued to fog his glasses as he ran after the dog, finally grabbing her and clutching her to his chest.

  The sound of a screen door banged behind him, and he heard a woman’s voice shout, “What the hell do you think you’re doing with my dog?”

  He froze, his chest contracting as he lost his breath.

  He knew that voice.

  But it couldn’t be.

  He turned around, facing the back porch of the house and the tall angry blond standing on it. Her long hair was pulled up in a ponytail, she held a baseball bat in her hands, and her eyes flashed with a mix of anger and fear.

  He may not have seen her in years, but he knew it was her.

  She looked different, older, but he recognized that tight set of her mouth, the flash of annoyance in her narrowed eyes, the way she held her shoulders in a posture of pride mixed with attitude.

  “Murphy?”

  She took a step closer, her eyes widening as her expression changed from anger to surprise. “Jack, is that you?”

  He couldn’t believe it—couldn’t believe she was standing in front of him. He’d dreamed of this moment so many times, imagined running into her on the street or in a crowded airport. But he’d never imagined he’d see her again while he was standing amidst a yard full of weeds, shirtless and sweaty, his arms full of his squirming dog.

  Although this was exactly where he should see her—in the same spot he’d stood when he’d first met her all those years before.

  A stray hockey puck had flown into John’s yard, and he’d hopped the fence to get it. She’d come out on the porch then too, with the same prideful stance, a huge chip evident on her shoulder, and looking just as gorgeous as she did now.

  Except she was a girl then.

  She was a woman now, in a pair of black shorts and a snug white T-shirt, her body a mix of hard and soft. Her legs were toned hard with muscle, but the thin cotton T-shirt clung to soft curves that she didn’t have when she was a teenager.

  His lungs tightened, and he struggled to wheeze in a breath. He couldn’t breathe.

  No, seriously, he couldn’t breathe.

  Shifting the dog under his arm, he used his free hand to pull his inhaler from his pocket as he fought to get enough air. Inhaling as he took a puff, the spray filled his lungs, opening his airway.

  “Jack! It is you!” She dropped the bat and ran down the steps of the porch. The bat rolled off the porch as she crossed the yard then stopped short, as if unsure if she should hug him or shake his hand.

  A happy grin covered her face, lighting her eyes, and sending a swirl of butterflies careening around his stomach. “Jack Bannister. What are you doing here? Besides trying to steal my dog?”

  He shook his head, still stunned to see her.

  Murphy Ryan.

  “Um, I’m not, I mean…” he stuttered, falling back into the role of the shy teenager that he’d been when he’d last seen her. “I’m not stealing your dog. This is my dog.”

  She smirked and gestured to the fence behind him. “Yeah? Then whose dog is that?”

  He turned to see another Sheltie standing on the other side of the chain link.

  His sheltie.

  Shit.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, handing her the dog in his arms. A dart of heat raced down his spine as her fingers brushed against the skin of his bare chest. “I saw her running around in the yard, and I just thought she was mine.”

  Murphy took the dog then set it on the ground to run over to greet the other sheltie. “Except she is actually a he. But I can see why you made a mistake. They do look a lot alike. Almost identical.”

  He took off his glasses and cleaned them with the end of his shorts. “My dog’s always breaking out of our yard, and my glasses were foggy, and I just assumed it was my dog. I usually wear contacts, but tore one this morning.” He didn’t know why he felt like he had to explain why he was wearing his glasses. Or why he felt like he was babbling.

>   He should just stop talking now. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

  He couldn’t stop staring at her. She looked amazing. He scrambled for something to say—anything that might sound halfway intelligent.

  “Holy crap—your dog is peeing on my shoe.” He pulled his foot back as the spray hit the side of his sneaker.

  “Winston. Bad dog.” Murphy shooed the dog away then glanced up at him apologetically. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why he does that. He’s normally very well-behaved. But the good news is that he only pees on people that he really likes.”

  “That is good news.” Jack shook his foot and wiped the side of his shoe on the grass. “I’d hate to see what he does to people he doesn’t like.”

  She laughed. “I can see you haven’t lost your sense of humor. You always were funny. And your dog is adorable.” She gestured to the miniature collie. “But I wouldn’t have pegged you as a Sheltie owner. I would have thought you’d pick out a golden retriever or maybe a black lab.”

  “You’re right. That’s probably the kind of dog I would have picked for myself.” He liked that she spoke as if she really remembered the kind of guy he was. “But I didn’t pick her out at all. I was a dating this girl and in one of her many wild and impulsive decisions, she bought this little fluffball of a puppy, then had no idea how to take care of it. She knew I worked at home and asked me to watch it the first few weeks she had her since she had to work. And who says no to a puppy?

  “Plus I was already in love with Maggie—that’s the dog’s name, not the girl’s. She’s a sweet little pup. Her owner—not so much. Kali, that’s the girl, decided to quit her job and move to California and informed me she couldn’t take the dog and was going to drop it off at the local shelter.”

  Murphy gasped. “You’re kidding? Who does that?”

  He grimaced. “I know, right? Needless to say, I dumped the girl and kept the dog. And I’m confident I got the better end of the deal.”

  She laughed. “I agree. She’s a cutie.” She glanced from the dog to him then shook her head. “I still can’t believe it’s you. But what are you doing here?”

  “I live here.”

  “With your parents?”

  “No, well, sort of. I mean, my parents still live here, but I don’t live with them.” He sounded like an idiot. Why did he keep stumbling over his words? He pointed to the detached garage at the back of the driveway that separated the two houses. “I live in an apartment over the garage. We converted it for my brother, Owen, to use when he wasn’t traveling, but then he bought a house, and I moved into it. It’s cheap, and I can help my parents when they need me.”

  Her eyes lit up at the mention of his brother and his heart sank, the old familiar feeling of inadequacy settling in his chest.

  “How is Owen? And Bane? I can’t believe they both play for the NHL. And for the same team. I’ve been following their careers. I even caught one of their games when the Summit were in my town. The Brawling Bannisters. It’s hard to imagine that I used to play pickup hockey with them in the driveway.”

  “Yep, they’re pretty awesome.” He tried to keep the sigh out of his voice. His brothers were awesome. And he loved them, but sometimes it was hard living in the shadow of such fame.

  Although it had been hard to live in their shadow before they were famous, too. Especially Owen, who was only two years older than him.

  Bane was four years older, and it was easy to idolize him, but he’d been out of high school by the time Jack went in. Owen had been a junior and already a star by the time Jack entered high school, and it didn’t take long for him to be labeled Owen’s nerdy little brother.

  He’d always been tall and skinny, and just a little clumsy. And the glasses and inhaler hadn’t done much to break that stereotype. He’d filled out during college and finally gotten contacts, but standing in front of his high school crush had him right back there—feeling like that geeky nerd.

  He glanced at the fence where his T-shirt hung, his mind searching for a way to grab it without bringing more attention to his half-nakedness.

  “So, do you still play?” she asked. “Hockey, I mean.”

  “Me? No. I mean, I’ll mess around if the family is playing, but I leave the real hockey to my brothers. And our family is so involved in the sport that sometimes I get tired of talking about it.” He backpedaled, not wanting to give her the impression that he was tired of talking to her about it—hell, he’d talk to her about anything. Hockey, football, the weather, what her favorite color was. As long as he could still talk to her. “But it was fun back then—especially when we were playing with you.”

  They’d all spent hours playing together in the summer. With four brothers, he always had someone to pal around with, and Murphy had fit right into their crew. She’d been a tough little tomboy and had held her own whether they were playing kick the can, capture the flag, or whacking pucks across the driveway in a game of hockey.

  “So if you don’t play hockey anymore, what do you do?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I’m a CPA—nothing interesting or famous—just an accountant.”

  “I knew it. I knew you’d end up doing something with math. You always were different from your brothers.”

  “Nerdier, you mean?”

  She laughed as if he’d meant it as a joke.

  But he’d been serious.

  “No, of course not. I meant smarter. You were always the brainy one. You always had your head in a book. And remember when you used to tutor me for algebra? Even though you were a year behind me in school.”

  He remembered. He remembered everything about her. He’d loved those times when he’d tutored her. When it was just the two of them, sitting next to each other, their legs brushing, and the apple scent of her shampoo in the air. “Yeah, I remember.”

  “I never would have made it that year if you hadn’t helped me pass that stupid summer school makeup class.”

  That was the summer that everything changed. “You never came back after that summer.”

  Her eyes clouded with pain. “Yeah, that was the year my grandpa had his first stroke, and my dad got a new job and could stay home with me. I always missed coming back here in the summer. Missed you guys.”

  Us guys? Did she mean him? Or Owen?

  “So, what are you doing here now?” he asked. “Why are you back after all these years?”

  She waved a hand at the porch. “My grandpa left me the house. I didn’t know it was in such bad shape, though. It needs a lot of work. I’m going to have to gut most of it and start over.”

  “Are you doing the work yourself?”

  “Most of it. Between my dad and my grandpa, they taught me how to do most everything on my own. So I can do the basic stuff like repainting and updating all of the fixtures. But I need to lay new tile in the bathrooms and replace a lot of the flooring, and I’ve never done that. And I plan to redo the kitchen.”

  “Wow. That sounds like a lot of work.” He swallowed. This was it, a reason to see her again. “I’d be happy to help, if you need a hand.”

  She cocked her head. “Yeah? You’d help me paint and rip out cabinets?”

  He’d help her do most anything. Although he wasn’t really handy. He was actually anything but. But he was willing to try. He just wanted to be near her—wanted to talk to her, get to know her again. “Sure.”

  “Okay,” she said, her face breaking into a grin. “You’re the best offer I’ve gotten, so I’ll take you up on that. What are you doing this weekend?”

  He grinned back. “Sounds like I’m painting.”

  Murphy couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that Jack Bannister was here, standing in front of her, all grown up.

  Jack had been her first crush, her first love, her first real kiss. He’d been the one that she could never really get out of her head, and the one that filled her thoughts with what could have been—and with regret and how things had turned out.

  He’d always been shy an
d clumsy, and even as an inexperienced teenage girl, she knew that she was the reason that he got tongue-tied or embarrassed. He was also the only one that she felt like had ever been his true self around her—in all of his goofy, nerdy fun-ness.

  He taught her to play Dungeons and Dragons and showed her how the points worked on Pokémon cards. He talked to her about books and never let her get down on herself, even when she was failing math and didn’t think she’d ever understand.

  He made her feel smart and dumb at the same time. He consistently reassured her, yet she always knew that her meager intelligence would never compare to his. But he did encourage her to believe in herself and her own wisdom to make decisions.

  She loved playing hockey and hanging around outdoors with all of the Bannister brothers, but she loved talking to Jack. She loved hanging around in his room and just being with him. Even though she’d only spent a few summers there, she had so many great memories of hanging out with him.

  He’d always thought he was nerdy, but she’d always thought he was cute. She’d had a feeling that he’d be good-looking when he grew up, but she couldn’t get over what a hottie he’d become.

  A shirtless hottie—with toned legs, rock hard abs, and a chest taut with muscle. He’d grown another few inches, and his body was lean and trim. She could tell he was a frequent runner by his muscled calves and his worn sneakers.

  Geez, she couldn’t believe her dog had peed on his shoe.

  She couldn’t believe any of this. Not that Jack Bannister was standing in her backyard. And not that she even had a backyard. She still couldn’t get used to the idea she owned a house.

  Everything in her life was new. A new city, a new house, a new job.

  But being back in her grandfather’s house brought up a lot of old memories. The summers she’d spent here had been some of the best summers of her life. And had served to shape her future career choices.

  “So, how does it feel to be back in the old neighborhood?” Jack asked, drawing her out of her musings.

  “Good. Moving to Denver worked out great with my new job, and it’s actually really nice to be back. I’ve always loved it here, and there’s still so much of my grandpa in the house. You know I moved so much with my dad when I was growing up that this house seems like the only real constant in my life.”