Fire and Ice (Sticks & Hearts Book 2)

by Rhonda James

  Table of Contents

  FIRE & ICE

  COPYRIGHT

  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

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  CHAPTER ONE JERSEY GIRL

  CHAPTER TWO

  OTHER BOOKS BY RHONDA

  CONNECT WITH RHONDA

  FIRE AND ICE PLAYLIST

  FIRE & ICE

  Rhonda James

  Fire & Ice

  Text Copyright © 2016 Rhonda James

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN-13: 978-0692628126

  ISBN-10: 0692628126

  Published by Rhonda James, Author LLC

  Editing by Julia Goda of Diamond in the Rough Editing

  Formatting by CP Smith

  Cover Layout and Design by Perfect Pear Creative

  Cover Models: Dustin McNeer and Courtney Lakin

  Photographers: Eric McKinney and Marie Killen

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  The following story contains mature themes, profanity, and explicit sexual situations. It is intended for adult readers.

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to all my JERSEY GIRLS

  for loving me and believing in this story even when I thought

  it was hopeless. I love you more than you will ever know!

  CHAPTER ONE

  LANEY

  January 8

  Atlanta, GA

  No! No! No! Please, God. Please tell me this isn’t happening.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, blocking out the sight of him as I fight to keep it together, but I’ll admit, it’s pretty hard. The shock of seeing him again after all this time stops me in my tracks. My legs feel like concrete blocks, and I seem to have lost all ability to function. I quickly realize my lack of movement is blocking the doorway, thus preventing the wedding party from making their entrance. A flurry of activity takes place behind me and someone grabs me by the arm and pulls me aside, but not before everyone turns to see what all the fuss is about.

  Right now, there are about a hundred pairs of eyes trained on me, but only one pair I actually care about.

  Or used to care about.

  But that was a long time ago…

  Noah’s eyes meet mine, and there’s no denying he’s surprised to see me.

  Guess that makes two of us.

  I’m struggling to comprehend why he’s even here, then I remember that Sarah wasn’t expecting me to attend. I’d originally told her I couldn’t make it, but I found someone to cover my shift at the last minute. When my aunt caught wind of it, she insisted I fly down. But that still doesn’t explain why she invited him in the first place. He and Sarah were only friends because I introduced them, and she knows what went down between us. How destroyed I’d been after he left me. Why would she invite him when she knows how badly it would hurt me to see him again?

  Even though we ended months ago, there are still so many questions left unanswered.

  Does he regret his decision to walk away?

  Has he found someone new, and if so, does she make him happy? Happier than I ever did?

  Did he ever truly love me? Or was it all just some fantasy I’d built up in my head to help me escape reality?

  And why, after all this time, does it still hurt when he looks at me?

  Once upon a time, I believed he actually cared. I gave him my heart, bared my soul to him. Trusted him with my deepest, darkest secrets. Then, when I least expected it, he left me in a crumpled heap on the floor, told me he couldn’t handle the emotional baggage that came with loving someone like me. He claimed the cost of loving me would be too high. After that heartbreak, I vowed to keep my secrets closely guarded, and I learned the words I love you can be beautiful, but they can also be as devastating as a 30-caliber bullet to the heart. The entry may be smooth, but upon exit, it leaves a wound so destructive you’ll be lucky to survive the damage. And if you do, I’m not sure you ever fully recover.

  He takes a step forward as if he’s heading my way, but a hand on his shoulder makes him stop and turn, breaking eye contact with me, and when I see who the hand belongs to, I let out a strangled gasp and stumble backwards.

  Her? He chose her over me?

  There’s a strange noise coming from behind me, and it takes a full minute to realize the noise is coming from me.

  Air… I need air.

  I need to get out of here.

  CHAPTER TWO

  DEREK

  "Derek, we believe you would be a great asset to this company." Mitch Harrison stands, and the rest of the suits around the conference table follow his lead. He extends his hand to me, and I close my fingers around his in a firm grasp. "I realize we've thrown a lot at you in a short amount of time. Take some time to think it over and give me a call by the end of next week."

  "Thank you, Mr. Harrison." I look him directly in the eye before glancing around the room and offering a small nod of gratitude. “Gentlemen. I’ll definitely give it a lot of thought and let you know my decision."

  Feeling good about the way I've handled myself, I turn and make my way to the door, covering the distance in five long strides before closing my left hand around the handle. I have one foot out the door before the sound of his last words shatter any false sense of confidence I've allowed myself to feel during the two-hour interview.

  "Be sure and tell your old man I’m going to kick his ass on the golf course next week." It takes everything I have to not react when he brings up my dad. He's chuckling as he says this, most likely due to the long-standing rivalry those two have when it comes to anything competitive. According to Mom, it's always been this way. Dad and Mitch have
been best friends since childhood. That factor had been the reason for my hesitation in accepting this interview.

  Mitch may be laughing, but if he could see my face, he’d realize I'm not.

  My right hand curls into a fist, and I breathe out a quiet sigh before resuming my escape. I don't bother responding, not that it matters, I knew I had the job before my Bruno Magli's ever touched the plush carpet lining the halls of Harrison Media.

  I spent the last fifteen years playing hockey, having started when I was six years old. Dad was always traveling for work, and Mom claims I had too much energy and she couldn't keep up with me. She enrolled me in pee-wee hockey, and I immediately felt at home on the ice. I'm a pretty good player, but it's not where I’ll spend my future. When I graduate this spring, I’ll have a degree in Communication Studies, and my goal is to land a job in broadcasting; specifically sports broadcasting.

  The question isn't whether I want this job. Because I do. The question is, am I willing to have it handed to me?

  I grew up in a privileged household. Dad is a renowned photographer, sought out by some of the biggest names in the fashion and entertainment industry. That's how he met Mom. He's a few years older, and when she was in college, a major cosmetics company was searching for a fresh face to represent them. Enter: Mom. She was discovered by accident after mistakenly stumbling into the casting area while in search of her best friend. Dad was the photographer chosen to help launch the company's new line, and when he saw Mom he claims it was love at first sight.

  Dad was the one to suggest Harrison Media as a way to help launch my career. While I agree with him, I'm also aware I did nothing to earn this position. Regardless of my socio-economic background, I spent the last four years busting my ass to get where I am. My professors never gave me a passing grade based on the size of my dad's bank account. And Coach sure as hell doesn't cut me any slack because of it. He expects me to prove myself, both on and off the ice, through hard work, sweat, and dedication.

  I want to work for someone who will have similar expectations. While I would love to work here, I know in my heart if I take this job, any success I achieve would probably leave me wondering if I took the easy way out.

  By the time I step back onto the sidewalk in downtown Atlanta, I know my answer. I take one last look at the prestigious building and begin the short walk back to my hotel. Feeling the need to talk, I call my teammate, Brantley Cage, who also happens to be one of my best friends. We share an apartment with Scott Rivers, our team goalie, and Jordan Masterson, who is a defenseman, same as Cage.

  Cage went back home to Colorado Springs for Christmas, but while the rest of us returned to Ann Arbor a week ago, he stayed away to sort out his complicated love life. Five months ago, River’s kid sister, Cassie, transferred to Great Lakes University. Before her arrival, he made it clear Cassie was off-limits. As luck would have it, those two found themselves in a pretty interesting predicament and fell hard for each other over the next few months. Rivers found out about it and lost his shit. While Cage sits in Colorado with his head up his ass, too scared to tell her he’s in love with her, Cassie sits in Ann Arbor waiting for her hero to come back and rescue her.

  See, not so complicated after all.

  “Davis, my man,” he answers on the first ring. “Talk to me, buddy. You killed the interview, right?”

  “They offered me the job. But I knew that going in. The interview was merely a formality.”

  “So? Are you moving to Atlanta after graduation?”

  “Fuck that. It’s too damn hot down here. I mean, it’s the eighth of January and I’m sweating my ass off.”

  “Fucking humidity, right?” He laughs for a moment before switching gears and turning serious. “But this is your dream job. Do you really want to turn that down?” he asks, sounding a hell of a lot like my mom rather than my friend.

  “Christ, that sounds like something my mother would say.”

  “Bitch all you want. I’d just hate for you to pass on something because your pride got in the way,” he says, sounding genuinely concerned.

  “I know, and I appreciate that. I truly do. But Atlanta is not where I see myself, no matter how amazing the job may be.”

  The line goes silent for a few seconds before either of us speaks.

  “You talk to Cassie?” I ask, steering the conversation away from me.

  “Not really. She sent a text on Christmas Eve. It was short and sweet. My response was just as concise.” His voice sounds dejected when he says this, and I can’t help rolling my eyes.

  “So, what? You’re just going to give up on her? Cause if that’s the case, I may be—”

  “The fuck you will!” he cuts me off. “Did I say I was giving up? Fuck, no.”

  I swear it’s so easy to get him riled where Cassie is concerned. Not in love, my ass.

  “‘I’m just saying there are plenty of guys who would kill to get their hands on her.”

  “Christ, Davis! What the fuck are you saying? Is this your way of telling me you fantasize about screwing my girlfriend? ‘Cause that’s some fucked up shit.”

  I howl with laughter. “Man, I’m just messing with you.”

  “Asshole,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

  “Maybe. But your reaction proves what I already knew. You’re in love with her. Why the hell are you so afraid to admit that?”

  “Admitting I love Cassie isn’t the problem, dickhead. I love her more than anything.”

  “Then tell me, what is the problem?” I come to a crosswalk and check both ways before crossing against the light. The hotel is up ahead on my left, and I quicken my pace, bringing myself that much closer to putting what’s left of this day behind me. Judging by the long silence, I come to the conclusion he’s ignoring my question. “The way I see it, you’ve got two choices. Walk away and let someone else have a chance, or go back home and cling to what you already have. Bottom line, you can’t keep stringing her along if you’re not ready to commit. It’s not fair to either of you.”

  “Since when did you become the love doctor? I’ve known you for four years and have yet to see your ass taking any girl out more than three times,” he replies sarcastically.

  It’s true. I haven’t been in a relationship, serious or otherwise, since setting foot on campus. I have nothing against relationships, commitment, or even love. As a matter of fact, I’m all for it. I’ve just never found a girl who speaks to me in that way. Let me be clear. I’ve spent many an evening with girls who knew exactly how to please me, but the pleasure was only temporary. I’ve never been one to believe in fairy tales, as if there’s some magic pussy out there made only for my dick. Yeah. Highly doubt that. I can honestly say I’ve never met a pussy I didn’t like, but I’ve also never met one that stood out above the rest. Pussy is pussy. Plain and simple. Sure, there may be slight variations from one girl to the next, but after a while, they’re all the same.

  “Trust me, buddy, if I limit myself to only one woman, there will be hearts breaking all over Ann Arbor,” I tease. “I’ll leave the hearts and flowers to you. Fuck ‘em and forget ‘em works for now.”

  He guffaws loudly, knowing I’m only half-joking. I have nothing against settling down; I just don’t see that happening with any of the girls I’ve met on campus.

  “Trust me, it will happen, and when it does, I plan on giving you shit about it. And don’t knock the hearts and flowers, jackass. Give a girl that stuff, and the sexual payoff will be fucking amazing.”

  “Yeah? I’ll try to remember that.” I chuckle, nodding to the doorman as I approach the door he’s holding open for me. Stepping through, I remember the redhead working behind the reception desk when I checked in earlier this afternoon. She was cute, and we flirted back and forth while she stood behind the marble countertop and ran my gold card though the machine. If she’s still working, maybe we can pick up where we left off. During my interview, I had visions of bending her over that marble counter and taking her from behind. I won
der if she’d be up for that? “Listen, I’ve gotta run, but you need to hurry up and get your ass back to Ann Arbor before I steal your woman.” I hang up before he can respond, and my eyes immediately dart toward the front desk in search of her.

  She’s not there.

  The expansive lobby is almost empty as I make my way past the seating area, quickly scanning my surroundings as I head for the elevator. My phone rings once before I shake my head and swipe a finger over the screen.

  So predictable.

  “Keep your rich ass away from my woman,” he bellows into the phone.

  “You’re just afraid one night with Tony Stark will make her forget all about her Superman.” I love pushing his buttons; he makes it too easy.

  “Fuck you! I know how to please my woman. You, my friend, have no chance of making her forget what I can do for her,” he scoffs, clearly playing along. “Besides, Iron Man could never beat Superman.”

  And with that, he hangs up, leaving me with a ridiculous smile on my face. I have no desire to steal Cassie from him. Cassie is my friend, and only my friend. But I will admit they share something I wouldn’t mind finding one day.

  One day in the far off future.

  "Excuse me, Mr. Davis?" A timid voice pulls me from my thoughts, and high heels clack against the marbled tile as she does her best to catch up with me.

  "Yes?" I turn and give the middle-aged woman a puzzled, if not slightly disappointed stare. I immediately feel bad for my reaction. It’s not this poor woman’s fault she isn’t the one I was hoping to find chasing me.

  "While you were out, you missed a call. They tried calling your cell, but it kept going to voicemail." She waves a pink slip of paper between us, and I take it, waiting for her to continue. "Your flight to Detroit had to be rescheduled due to a problem with the aircraft. The earliest available flight isn't until after four tomorrow.” I groan inwardly as she keeps talking. "If you ask me, you've dodged a bullet. You just can't be too careful these days. Why, at any given moment you could turn a corner and have something happen that may change your life forever. I've taken the liberty of extending your stay. I hope that was okay. I even made a note in our system that you'll need a late checkout."