Melting Ice

by Jami Davenport

  Isaac paused in the doorway and took in the lay of the land. Considering it was a Saturday night, the place was only about half full. Classic rock played on the jukebox across the room. Patrons gathered around tables laughing and drinking. Two men at the lone pool table played a heated game.

  He sat down at an empty table not too close to anyone else. He wanted to be left alone, as usual. A tattooed waitress with jet black hair and a nose ring walked over to his table. “What can I get you?”

  “I’ll have a—whisk—” Isaac’s throat constricted. New team. New year. New life. Same brother. Same guilt. Same destructive reaction to that guilt.

  The waitress stared down at him, tapping her booted foot with impatience.

  “I’ll have a Coke.”

  “A Coke?” She squinted at him like she’d never had anyone order a Coke before.

  “Yeah, a Coke.”

  Rolling her eyes, she wandered off, taking her time, as if she’d already pegged him as not being a good tipper. She was right; usually he wasn’t. Isaac propped his elbows on the table and leaned his chin on his hands. He stared at the TV hanging on the wall showing clips from the evening’s sporting events, including the Sockeyes.

  A few seconds later the waitress plopped the soda on the table. Isaac grabbed it and took a long drink, as if it were his lifeline. He closed his eyes as the cold liquid slid down his throat, not getting the burn he used to get from alcohol, but feeling oddly triumphant.

  One more challenge, and he’d once again said no to temptation.

  Pretty damn noble of him.

  He almost chuckled as he used the drink napkin to wipe the sweat from his face. His hands still shook but not as badly. He’d be damned if two years, three months, and five days of sobriety would end because his dickwad brother pissed him off. Tanner wasn’t worth undoing all the work he’d done to get this far.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  At the sound of that familiar voice, Isaac looked up as Avery sat in the chair across from him.

  Part of him rejoiced at her surprise appearance while a more practical part knew it wasn’t a good idea to be with her alone or in a crowded room.

  She signaled to the waitress and ordered a beer. “What are you drinking?” she asked conversationally, even though her appearance happened to be anything but conversational.

  “Coke.”

  “Just Coke?”

  “Yeah.” He looked down at his hands wrapped around the cold glass.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Her voice almost undid him. She sounded so concerned. No one ever worried about Isaac, and his imprisoned emotions rattled their cage door, begging to be set free.

  “About what?” He played stupid, and she wasn’t buying it.

  “You looked like a guy who could use a friend a short time ago.” Her blue eyes captured his, and for the first time in his life, he wanted to tell another person everything. Absolutely everything. Only he couldn’t because that would leave him exposed and vulnerable.

  “I don’t need anybody. I’m fine by myself. That way the only person who gets damaged is me.” He met her gaze, holding his steady, and refusing to show any emotion.

  “Everyone needs somebody. Even you. What your brother said—that hurt—you can’t fool me even if the others don’t look any deeper.”

  She seen through his defenses, and he looked away, concentrating on drawing rings on the table with his glass. “Look, Avery. I’m trouble. Bad news. And I don’t need you complicating my life, and you sure as hell don’t need me complicating yours.”

  “Probably not, but I’ve never been one to take the easy path.” The humor in her voice caused him to glance up into her twinkling eyes.

  He had to chuckle. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  “So what’s the deal with your brother?”

  Isaac stiffened; everything inside him went cold. He didn’t talk about his family or any aspect of his personal life. He’d never let down his guard enough to let others inside the screwed up mess that was Isaac Wolfe. Sure, stuff leaked out here and there, but mostly it had to do with his past, including his very public partying and inability to get along with his teammates.

  He didn’t give a flying leap what the press said about him, as long as he could play hockey. Now here was the irony of it all—in order to stay in hockey, he’d have to play nice with the very people and systems he despised. But he didn’t have to play nice with his brother, only his teammates, the hockey press, Sockeyes fans and staff. The rest of them could go to hell.

  “You’re not going to answer me, are you?” Avery’s smile was sad, almost pitying. He hated being pitied, and it shored up his resolve.

  “No.” He turned away from her, back to the TV, hoping she’d get the point that hanging out with him wasn’t the best idea in the world.

  “I’m confused.” Avery leaned forward across the table. He could smell her sweet scent, and he sat back in his chair to put some distance between them.

  He frowned at her, sensing some kind of female trap and walking into it anyway. “Why?”

  “I don’t know what to do about you.” She chewed on her lower lip in the most delectable way. His eyes went to it and refused to budge.

  “Don’t do anything,” he said hoarsely. He dragged his gaze from her mouth and shot her a pointed glare which usually did the trick for most women. Avery laughed, a deep, throaty, from-the-belly laugh. He liked the sound of her laughter way too much. It warmed his frozen soul.

  “That would be the easiest thing to do.” He was pretty damn sure she didn’t choose the easy path often, and she most likely wouldn’t with him.

  Isaac wanted her to leave, yet he wanted her to stay. She was nosy and a little pushy and way too direct for his taste. He preferred women who limited their talking to sex talk in the form of describing what they’d do to him once they got him naked. Avery wanted to talk about him. No one ever wanted to talk about him. The entire notion made him uncomfortable yet oddly flattered that he mattered enough for her to attempt to get closer.

  Then a depressing possibility occurred to him, something far more devious and sinister than he’d ever give her credit for, but what the hell did he know? He’d been burned before, which was why he made it a point to be the one doing the burning. Maybe she was mining him for information to feed to the team captain.

  “Why are you here? Did someone put you up to this?” he shot back, suspicion hardening him.

  “Because I’m a sucker for wounded animals, and no, no one put me up to this.” She met his gaze, her own direct and honest, full of concern.

  “You think I’m a wounded animal?”

  “You are a Wolfe.” She giggled at her own stupid joke.

  Isaac rolled his eyes. He should tell her to leave, or even better he should leave. “Something tells me you won’t be easy to get rid of.”

  “Probably not. If there’s a bee’s nest in a tree, I’m the first one to stick my hand in it.”

  Isaac didn’t doubt that. “That’ll get you stung.”

  She shrugged one shoulder and winked at him. She was so damned adorable. Isaac couldn’t recall ever thinking of a woman as adorable, at least not the type of women he dated.

  “So Mr. Wolfe, what is your brother’s problem?”

  Isaac debated ignoring her question, getting pissed about it, or telling the truth. He had no clue why, but he needed to talk to someone after what happened earlier. He’d thought he’d hardened his heart toward any member of his family, especially his dickhead younger brothers, but Tanner had a talent for exposing a person’s weakness and going for the jugular, family not excluded.

  “My family blames me for my sister’s death.”

  Avery sat back, her smile turning to a puzzled frown. “They do?”

  Isaac didn’t know which was worse—the pain of remembering or the empty void left by the absence of his two favorite people, his sister and his girlfriend. He’d done this to them, and he’d never forgive himself,
nor did he expect or deserve his family to do so. How could they if he couldn’t?

  Right now, all he wanted was to be left alone so no one saw how much he hurt inside. Never let them see you bleed. Ever. As his grandpa was fond of saying over and over again. Those words sank in and became his mantra for most of his life. The only people he’d ever let inside were both dead, thanks to him and his drinking.

  “Yeah, the worst part is they’re right.” Isaac stood abruptly, having had enough of this conversation. He tossed money on the table for their drinks, gave her a mock salute, and walked out of the bar. He couldn’t stop himself from glancing over his shoulder at Avery. She hadn’t moved. Her hands were on the table. Her mouth hung open in shock. Their gazes met briefly before he whipped back around and got the hell out of there.

  That’d teach him a lesson about going in a bar after being clean and sober for two years.

  * * * *

  Avery finished her beer, sipping slowly on it, while shooting down a couple persistent men who’d assumed she’d just gotten into a fight with her boyfriend and might be in the mood for revenge sex.

  What’d just happened here? Isaac claimed he’d killed his sister, but he wasn’t in jail. She didn’t recall hearing a scandal pertaining to his sister, but she’d sure as hell check on it once she got home.

  The whole evening had been surreal. She’d never seen Tanner abandon his charm and act like a bigger dick than Isaac, except with Cooper. He loved to needle Cooper. But, wow, to air his family’s dirty laundry like that and with such venom? Tanner always seemed so affable and laid back, yet he went after his brother just like a wolf after wounded prey. And Isaac took it without defending himself, but maybe there wasn’t a defense for whatever happened if both men could be believed.

  She didn’t have enough information to make a judgment call, and Avery believed in following her gut when it came to people. Isaac was wounded, but a killer? Not possible.

  As soon as Avery got home, she resisted the urge to head over to Isaac’s for round two. That would only end one way—with both of them naked. And as badly as she wanted him, she resisted with every ounce of willpower she had, not for her own sake, but for Isaac’s. He didn’t need the trouble being with her would cause with the team captain.

  So Avery became a stalker—not a nutcase type of stalker, but more of a casual stalker.

  Isaac “Ice” Wolfe fascinated her. Maybe it was the brief sadness she saw in those blue eyes before they turned frosty once again. Maybe it was their dysfunctional families. Maybe it was two souls who recognized similar pain in each other. Maybe it was just as simple as his hot body and piercing eyes.

  Whatever her reasons, she admitted—only to herself—to having a harmless crush on the bad-boy hockey player. And it was harmless because he’d already told her he wasn’t interested in a repeat performance, which was for the best.

  Seriously. It was.

  Sleeping with him would go down as her one and only one-night stand, no reason to be ashamed or proud. It was what it was.

  Except she wanted more, more of his hard body moving over her, more of his heated stares, more of his hands on her, and definitely more of him inside her. In this case, it didn’t matter what she wanted or what he wanted; their fate had been sealed, but that didn’t stop her from cyber-stalking him. Just a little to satisfy her curiosity.

  Avery Googled Isaac’s name, and waded through mounds of crap about his attitude, his party lifestyle, his drinking, and his women. Finally she found a very small, vague mention of his sister and another woman dying in a one-car crash on a winding road on a stormy night. They’d been drinking, and the driver drove off a steep bank into a lake. Neither woman survived. They were the only two in the car.

  Why would Tanner blame Isaac for a car accident when Isaac wasn’t even there? Why would Isaac blame himself? It was weird, and it didn’t make sense, but the hurt in Isaac’s eyes drove her to find out.

  Emma came home a few minutes later to find her sister poring over the information on her computer. “I know that look. You’ve been doing research. So what’s the deal with Tanner and Isaac?” Emma asked, as usual reading Avery’s mind.

  “Tanner blames Isaac for their sister’s death, but it doesn’t make sense. She died in a car accident. Isaac wasn’t near the scene of the accident.”

  Emma pulled up a dining room chair next to Avery’s desk and peered at the computer, reading the article on the screen. Finally she straightened. “That’s weird. I mean, Tanner despises the air Isaac breathes.”

  “Yeah, it is weird.” Avery clicked on another link, but it contained no new information.

  “You two have a thing for each other. Why don’t you ask him?” Emma pointed out the obvious.

  Avery squirmed, not certain she should tell her sister that she’d stopped at the bar on her way home when she’d seen Isaac’s car there.

  “Okay, spill it.” Emma read her mind.

  Avery told her all about her evening with Isaac. And Emma’s frown deepened while her brows drew a straight line across her forehead, a sure sign she was equally confused and worried.

  “Why would both of them believe Isaac was to blame?” Emma shook her head.

  “I have no clue. Men. They say women are hard to figure out. I should stick with horses.” Avery rubbed her tired eyes. She had an early morning, as usual, but she already knew she wouldn’t be able sleep.

  “I’m sticking with cats until I meet that one special guy.” On cue, Emma’s prima donna cat, Tuxedo, sauntered in, jumped on the desk, and laid across the keyboard. Emma grabbed him and held him close to her. His purring could be heard in a rock concert.

  Avery clamped her mouth shut. Emma was the hopeless romantic of the family, believing every person had that special someone out there somewhere. Avery considered such romantic notions ridiculous, but she wasn’t in the mood tonight to debate it with Emma. If Emma wanted to wait into spinsterhood to meet the right guy, that was her problem.

  Spinsterhood? Seriously? Did anyone even use that word anymore? Avery had to quit reading Emma’s historical romance novels during her bouts of late-night insomnia. If Avery didn’t watch it, she’d find herself picking out a silverware pattern and her wedding colors just because a guy said hi to her.

  Or screwed her in the barn lounge after she’d just met him.

  “Ave?”

  “Huh, oh, uh, sorry.”

  “Where’d you go?”

  “Nowhere, I’m sitting right here.”

  Emma gave her a little shove with her hand on Avery’s shoulder. “I meant what were you thinking? You zoned out for a few. You’re really enamored with this guy.”

  Enamored? Her sister really needed to get a life.

  “No, I’m not.” It was stupid to deny it, and even stupider to try to put something over on her twin. After all, they’d shared a uterus for nine months. You can’t get closer than that.

  “I’ve never seen you obsessed like this, unless it was over a really nice horse or something. Usually you can take a guy or leave him.”

  Avery would take Isaac any day, but leaving him alone proved to be a lot more difficult.

  Chapter 8—Running

  After week and a half in the farm house, Isaac had settled into a routine. Rain or shine, he ran every morning following the path along the edge of the large field next to his house and down the gravel road past the barn and back. He preferred that route as opposed to the paved county road.

  His only company were the birds and squirrels and an occasional deer. It only took him a few days to realize if he was lucky, he’d also catch glimpses of Avery riding the Gator across the parking lot to the hay barn. Oh, how he’d loved those few glimpses of her in a ratty sweatshirt, faded jeans, and rubber boots. She was the sexiest thing on earth with her ponytail swinging back and forth and her nice ass straining as she lifted bales of hay bigger than she was. He was playing with fire, and he knew it, but a guy couldn’t get in trouble for looking as long as he didn
’t touch.

  Isaac didn’t sleep well after his encounter with his asshole brother the night before. Taking advantage of a rare day off, he got up late and ran midmorning. Even though he slowed to a jog past the barn, Avery wasn’t anywhere in sight, which bummed him out more than he liked to admit.

  He picked up his pace but slowed again when he noticed a figure grazing her horse on the grass shoulder of the gravel driveway in front of his house. As he got closer, he realized it was the traumatized teenage girl, Tiffani.

  Normally, he would’ve run past her and not glanced her way. He hated his privacy invaded, and this girl’s crush on him had now extended to her hanging out near his house, a fact which didn’t thrill him. Yet she was broken just like he was. Her damaged soul spoke to him, leaving Isaac to grapple with his usual asshole demeanor versus his deeply-buried sense of decency.

  As he jogged closer, Tiffani looked up, her eyes haunted with a crushing sadness born from great tragedy and guilt. A glimmer of hope appeared in her sad eyes when their gazes met. Maybe her crush on him wasn’t a crush after all.

  Like kindred spirits, he sensed the heartbreak she struggled to overcome. Yet, he’d never been one to consider others’ needs, nor was he prone to sensitivity, or at least that’s the story he sold to himself.

  Isaac slowed to a walk and wiped his sweaty brow with his sleeve. The girl watched him warily yet with a fragile trust he hadn’t earned. He stopped a good ten feet from her, his hands shoved in his sweatshirt pockets. A smile, unbidden, crossed his face. She almost smiled back as she leaned against her horse.

  “Hi, Tiffani,” he said, not completely onboard with why he was talking to her, why he cared. Caring got a guy nothing but a shitload of trouble and pain.

  She blinked at him, then glanced shyly at her feet.

  For several seconds, he stood there, awkwardly trying to come up with a way to put into words what he wanted to say, even as his asshole persona warned him against becoming involved.

  He cleared his throat, and she met his gaze with eyes older than they had a right to be.

  “You understand, don’t you?” he asked simply.