Home Ice

by Rachelle Vaughn

  Dominic Devereaux hated to be kept waiting. He lived his life like he played the game of hockey. Fast, aggressive and take charge. He had no use for patience because he had always just taken what he wanted. No questions asked. People rarely questioned him because of his height, stature and his sheer, powerful presence. One blink of his icy blue eyes and people jumped to fulfill his every want.

  Except for today.

  He drummed his fingers on the counter at Soundz Cuztom Stereoz and looked around at the buzzing neon lighting that circled the office walls. His car was supposed to be ready twenty minutes ago. He had been putting off the stereo upgrade to his Escalade since he bought it. And now he knew why.

  Damn imbeciles.

  The twitty, pimple-faced teenager working behind the counter had scurried off to check on Dom’s ride, but now it didn’t look like he was coming back anytime this decade.

  He probably got distracted by a crack in the floor tile, Dom thought.

  Before Dom’s anger escalated to boiling, a stunning redhead sauntered up to the counter, her heels clicking on the polished black floor. He could smell her perfume before he actually saw her. And when he did see her, stereos were the last thing on his mind.

  Since when did auto shops start hiring fashion models?

  Layers of red hair framed her ivory face. His gaze traveled down to survey the rest of her features. The important ones. A pale, creamy pair of breasts peaked out of her blouse. Oooh. They were definitely real. And Dom didn’t discriminate. He prided himself on being an equal cup size opportunist. Real or fake, big or small, he just loved the feel of a woman’s breast in his hands. Freckles dotted her ivory skin and he followed their trail from her breasts up to her neck. When he finally looked back at her eyes, she was looking back at him with jade green eyes.

  “I’m sorry Mr. Devereaux, but your car won’t be ready today as planned. One of the parts is on backorder and won’t be delivered until tomorrow.”

  “What?” He tapped his Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses on the countertop. “It’s just a simple installation.” Her looks were distractingly beautiful, but he was still upset. He had the urge to ask her ‘Don‘t you know who I am?’ But he didn‘t. Instead he said, “This is unacceptable.”

  She leaned in closer to him, her breasts squishing together over the counter. Her perfume was musky and pure sex.

  “I’m sure I can figure out a way to make it up to you.” One twinkle of her green eyes and he suddenly forgot about his car. Car? What car? Oh, yeah. That could definitely wait until tomorrow. No problem. He was a reasonable man, after all. “Something to soften the blow.” She pursed her coral painted lips on the emphasis of the last word.

  Now he knew what he’d be doing for the rest of the day. Perfect. He had an autograph signing at 4:30, so she’d have to be on her way by then. That would leave his night free for some other lucky lady. He hated the awkward morning after routine and avoided it at all costs. He had no qualms about taking what he wanted. Besides, he was a busy man with a demanding profession and didn’t have time to waste with just one woman for too long. There were a lot of women, in a lot of cities (especially with as much as he traveled every season) and only so much Dom to go around. Better get busy. No time to waste here.

  “Follow me, Mr. Devereaux.”

  With a seductive sway of her hips, she came around the counter and tucked her arm into his.

  “Please, call me Dom.” He had the feeling he’d be hearing more of her smoky voice calling out his name in the coming hours.

  “Your place or mine, Dom?”

  * * *

  It was another warm day in Red Valley. A spring heat wave was forecasted to bring temperatures into the nineties and the retreating sun glared on Ben’s dashboard as he drove to Dom’s house. Ben was picking up Dom for their autograph signing and he was right on time. Dom needed a ride because his vehicle wasn’t ready at the shop yet. Apparently, he was having a fancy new stereo system installed which he’d been bragging about getting forever.

  Although the season was coming to an end, the organization liked to keep the spirit of hockey alive all year long. It was good to see the fans and aspiring hockey players, a.k.a. kids.

  When Ben pulled up to Dom’s white mansion, he noticed a silver Porsche in the driveway.

  That’s odd.

  Dom would never trade the Escalade in for a sports car. The Caddy was his baby. Maybe he rented a replacement car after all.

  Or someone else was already here.

  Ben knocked on the front door and Dom yelled from inside for him to come on in. Ben let himself in and a gush of cool air from the air conditioner enveloped him. He looked down the hall for Dom and found him peeking out of the master bedroom stark naked.

  “Mornin’, Benny,” greeted Dom.

  “Mornin’, Dom,” Ben replied. He added with impatience, “We need to be down at the store by two, so they can start letting people in.”

  Good grief, Dom wasn’t even dressed yet. He was worse than a girl. Dom was always late and it drove Ben crazy.

  “Dude, I’m running a little late,” Dom shrugged, ignoring Ben‘s urgency.

  “Well, get your ass in gear, buddy. The fans are waiting. Hey, I almost forgot. Did you finish that video game I lent you?” Ben asked.

  “Yeah, it’s in here.” Dom motioned to his bedroom.

  Ben followed him into the room and was greeted by a nude redhead getting out of the rumpled bed. Embarrassment flushed Ben’s face when she made no move to cover her bare breasts.

  “Hi,” she said, her emerald green eyes looked Ben up and down and back down again. Her lips curved into a slow smile.

  “Hi,” Ben answered, a frown formed on his face. Oh no. He did not come over to be the third wheel in this party.

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” Dom announced. He went into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

  “Hurry up, Dom,” Ben yelled into the bathroom after grabbing his video game off of the dresser. “I’ll be in the kitchen.” Ben nodded to the redhead and went back down the hall.

  Whew.

  Ben wanted no part of that scene. He was used to Dom’s revolving door of women from when he lived with Dom for a short time after he first signed with the Razors. He had still been house hunting and it was nice not living all alone in a new town. It had been interesting living with a full grown frat boy, but it still unnerved him.

  Maybe Ben was old fashioned, but he liked to think of sex as something special that you didn’t just do with any random female who came along. Dom didn’t share the same way of thinking. When he was fresh off of re-signing his contract, Dom celebrated with a different girl every night. There was a steady stream of blondes, redheads, twins, brunettes, and even a few MILF’s coming and going from Dom’s bedroom.

  Come to think of it, he really hadn’t slowed down much since then. If anything, there had been more one night stands over the years. And half night stands. Dom didn’t let women stay for very long. He loved the sex, but he loved his own space even more.

  Dom was one of his closest friends, but Ben could never respect him for the trail of discarded women he left in his wake. “Fuck ‘em and chuck ‘em” continued to be Dom’s ever so noble motto.

  Ben went into the kitchen and decided to grab something to drink while he waited. He was rummaging through the fridge when the redhead came into the room.

  “Looking for something?” she asked seductively.

  Ben shot his head up out of the fridge. She was standing by the dining room table. She was tall with creamy skin and legs that went on forever. Her flame red hair was still tousled and her makeup smudged. Bedhead hair hadn’t become a trend for no reason. She had put on a tiny tee shirt and it barely fell to her bare thigh.

  “Found it!” Ben said a little too loudly. He held up a bottle of Gatorade in her direction. He twisted off the cap, letting the refrigerator door slam shut. Taking a gulp, glad for the distraction, he tried to think of something to say as he fiddled with
the label. He would have gone outside to wait in the car if it weren’t hotter than the surface of the sun out there.

  “So, are you a hockey player, too?” she asked in a sultry voice. She leaned against the table, the thin tee shirt straining against her breasts.

  “Yeah.” He took another sip of Gatorade.

  She smiled with pleasure at his answer. “It’s such a sexy game. All those sweaty men fighting over a piece of rubber.”

  Hurry up, Dom!

  “I’m Roxie, by the way.” She slowly exaggerated the pronunciation of her name.

  Roxxx-see.

  He had never heard anyone say their own name in such a sexual way, but she definitely pulled it off.

  “Hey, I’m Ben.” He gave her a lopsided grin.

  Where did Dom manage to pick up these women? Roxie oozed sex from every pore of her lithe body. There must be a factory assembling and producing them somewhere. An island in the South Pacific where your dream woman was assembled piece by piece.

  Roxxx-see rummaged through her purse on the table while Ben read the ingredient label from his Gatorade.

  Fascinating. Just what I wanted to do today. Learn about electrolytes while dodging a frisky redhead. Dom, get out of the freakin’ shower already!

  She pulled a brush out of her bag and began running it down the length of her long red hair.

  Potassium---30 milligrams.

  Every time she reached up, the tee shirt inched a little bit higher.

  Sodium---110 milligrams.

  She wasn’t wearing any panties.

  Dom, you bastard!

  Finally, after no less than infinity times ten, Dom made his way down the hall dressed and ready in a tee shirt, shorts and flip-flops. He obviously was in no hurry by the way he casually strode into the kitchen zipping up his shorts.

  “So, I see you’ve met Trixie.” Dom moved passed Ben to grab a bottle of water out of the fridge.

  “Roxie,” she corrected him with a frown.

  Dom ignored her. “This here is the Benjamin Price. My part time pimp and full time offensive genius.” He slapped Ben on the back and Ben rolled his eyes.

  “Nice to meet you, Ben.” Once again, she said his name like it was a sexual position or something.

  Ladies and Gentlemen: Now introducing the ‘BenaSutra’!

  “We’d better get going, Dom.” Ben gratefully made his way to the front door and away from her penetrating gaze. “It was nice to meet you, Roxie. See ya later,” he said, although he knew he wouldn’t. Dom grabbed his keys from the counter and followed Ben to the door without a second glance at the redhead.

  “Do you wanna get together later?” Roxie called after Dom. The smokiness in her voice faded into despondency. Within two seconds, she had gone from sex kitten to puppy dog.

  “Sorry, babe,” Dom shrugged and took a swig of water. “I’ve got a charity dinner thing tonight. Lock up for me on your way out, will ya? Thanks for the ride, Trixie,” he yelled behind him and followed Ben to the car.

  Outside, Ben shot Dom a look of confusion. “I can’t believe you are going to leave a chick, which you just dissed, in your house.”

  “Dom shrugged. “Dude, if she wants to take my 63“ plasma TV and tuck it away in her handbag before she goes, then so be it.”

  Chapter Three

  Number 20

  Izzy showed up at Ally and Gram’s house on time for once in her life. Izzy always thought she was worth the wait. But today she was especially anxious to meet some hockey players.

  Everything about Izzy was tiny. Her feet, her bow-shaped mouth, button nose and dark eyes. Her black hair was almost as long as she was tall. It hung in shiny layers all the way to her tiny waist. She dressed like she made more money than she actually did. Little did everyone know, most of her wardrobe was from sample sales and thrift stores. She was one helluva bargain shopper. Unfortunately, Izzy’s ego was not as tiny as her shoe size.

  Today, Izzy looked extra vixen-y in sequined leggings, an off-the-shoulder blouse and platform shoes. No doubt about it, Izzy was a firecracker. No Fourth of July necessary. She drove a cherry red Pontiac Solstice roadster which perfectly complimented her ‘the flashier the better’ motto. The roadster was the ideal size for Izzy’s tiny 5’2” frame, but it always made Ally feel like she was riding in a miniature clown car whenever they went anywhere together. Ally half expected circus music to start playing while she tried to adjust herself next to Izzy on the leather seat.

  Izzy let herself into the little yellow house and found Ally slumped on the living room couch watching television. Disappointed, Izzy blew out a puff of air from her red painted lips.

  “I can’t stand by and let you do this to yourself,” Izzy scoffed.

  “Do what?” Ally looked up from her half-eaten bag of Doritos.

  “Living vicariously through me is one thing, but getting all of your social skills from bad…,” Izzy looked back over at the television screen, “…really bad TV is just plain wrong. And hazardous to your health. I don’t even care who Paris Hilton’s new BFF is! I can‘t believe I‘ve let you get this bad. You have orange fingers!” Izzy was horrified. “Why aren’t you ready?”

  Ally licked the nacho cheese from her thumb. “Do we really have to go?” she whined and took a swig of Pepsi to wash it down.

  “Yes. I want to meet some players and get autographs.”

  “Iz, I really don’t feel like being around a million loud people right now. Hockey games aren’t my thing.”

  “Well, then you are in luck my friend. Because this is just a practice. We will have to work our way up to a game. Baby steps. Anywho, stop making excuses and get your lazy butt in gear.”

  Ally remained motionless on the couch. “You know the Razors had an autograph signing this morning. I saw them advertising it on TV. Why didn’t you just get your precious autographs then?”

  “Because I was working. And what fun is it to see the players all cleaned up and out of uniform? We’re going to watch them in their natural habitat all sexy and sweaty.”

  “For Pete’s sake, you’re acting like a horny teenager!” Ally griped.

  “Please, Ally. Get up, get ready and come with me. We can go for fro-yo afterwards.”

  “All right. All right. I’m coming.” Ally turned off the TV and went down the hall to get ready. So much for Izzy forgetting about today and leaving Ally alone to entertain herself. What was so bad about being a hermit?

  * * *

  Izzy’s lead foot drove them right past the off-ramp for the NorCal Center.

  “Wait. You missed the exit,” Ally said and then clamped her mouth shut. What did she care about where they were going anyway?

  “No I didn’t.”

  “What do you mean? Where are we going?”

  To the practice rink on the other side of town. The Razors have their practices there and their games at the NorCal Center.”

  “Oh.”

  As promised, ten minutes later Izzy pulled into the Razors’ Ice Practice Arena parking lot on the other side of town. Posted on the side of the building, Ally noticed a huge sign telling her that ‘Razors Ice Arena was the official practice facility for the Red Valley Razors‘.

  That explained why it looked like they had pulled up to a high school gymnasium.

  Ally was glad to finally unfold herself from Izzy’s tiny car. She was feeling claustrophobic after Izzy had razzed her during the entire car ride about Ally’s choice of jeans and tee shirt. Over the years it had become Ally’s uniform. There was no way she was going to dress up, especially for some sporting event that she didn‘t even care about. Only Izzy could pull off wearing heels to a hockey rink. She rarely went without them and today was no exception. Izzy could take her designer clothes and five inch heel and shove---

  “We’re here!” Izzy announced, breaking Ally‘s train of thought.

  Ally looked around at the nearly empty parking lot. “Apparently we’re the only ones.”

  “I’m so excited to
see them. Practices are much more intimate than games.”

  Great, Ally thought. Intimacy and hockey. I’m missing General Hospital for this?

  “Hopefully we’ll get to meet some of the players.”

  It was a possibility considering Razors’ Ice was a much smaller arena than NorCal Center.

  Izzy strutted into the building with Ally a step behind her. Inside, it was bright and echoed with voices and the sound of pucks being hit.

  Ally looked around at the stands sprinkled with a few people here and there. It appeared that only a few die-hard fans and a group of kids had cared enough about the team to come to their practice.

  “There’s nobody here.”

  Izzy shrugged and took a seat in the front row. “The Razors haven’t exactly had a stellar season. Game attendance has been low because they probably won‘t even make it to the playoffs.”

  Ally took a seat next to her. “And we are here because…”

  “Because I want to get some player autographs. We just might be able to because there won’t be a million people crowded around. Because I still like the team even though they’ve been playing like crap. Because you needed to get out of the house. You know I love Gram, but you can‘t spend all of your time with a ninety year old woman.”

  “Gram is my life,” Ally defended. “And she’s only eighty-six.”

  “I know, hun. But there’s also more to life than Depends and Polident.”

  “Ooh, that reminds me.” Ally took out a pen and scrap of paper from her purse and scribbled on it. “I need to pick up some more of Gram’s vitamins at the store.”

  Izzy rolled her eyes and turned to focus on the ice. She didn’t come here to argue with Ally. There were professional athletes on display to be ogled.

  The Red Valley Razors’ practice session consisted of a succession of drills. Passing, shooting, face-off, puck handling, and basic fundamentals. The players seemed to be having a good time as they joked around with each other like a band of fraternity brothers.

  After the practice, some of the players milled around to sign autographs for the kids and hand out pucks. Ally admired how these men could be so aggressive on the ice and then so nice to the children grouped around them. She turned to say something to Izzy, but when she looked over she realized that Izzy had left her side. Ally looked around to see where she snuck off to and finally found her sidling up to one of the players. Ally watched as Izzy put her hand on his arm and batted her eyelashes up at him as she asked for an autograph. The player was huge in comparison to her tiny friend. He must have been at least six foot four without the aide of his skates and he made Izzy look even shorter in comparison.