Melting Ice

by Jami Davenport

  Of the two games they’d played so far on this road trip, they lost the first and won tonight’s. Isaac skated a good game, not great, but good. The coaches were happy, as was Coop, with his performance. Isaac wasn’t, but then he never was. He was his own worst critic.

  Back in the hotel room, Isaac stared at the phone in his hand, willing himself to be strong, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t resist even the most minimal contact.

  He texted Avery: How is Hal?

  Brilliant idea he had to get her to take care of Hal; not only did it give him a legitimate reason to ask for her phone number, but it gave him an excuse to contact her on a regular basis. They’d texted every night since the team left on Wednesday, and now it was Saturday night with one more week away from home. He missed her, which was damn weird. He’d only know her a few weeks.

  Texting Avery had become a habit too quickly. A reward he dangled in front of himself after a game, or like last night after a dinner with his teammates. As painful as that’d been, he’d managed to play nice, and even laughed at a few of Brick’s outrageous stunts.

  Isaac glanced over at Blake, pillows propped behind him, as he surfed the channels. Usually Blake’s surfing pissed him off, but tonight he didn’t find it annoying.

  The phone vibrated in his hand, and he couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face.

  Someone pounded so hard on their door the room shook. Blake shot to his feet to open it before the jerk on the other side woke up the entire floor. Brick and Rush, two of the younger guys on the team, burst in, balancing a stack of pizza boxes. The aroma of hot pizza swirled about the room, and Isaac’s stomach growled.

  “Pay the man, would you, Ice?” said Brick, dressed in nothing but boxers. The goalie always wore as little as necessary because of his tendency to overheat.

  Isaac glanced toward the door to see a scrawny pizza boy with a pimply face clutching a bill in his hand. The kid looked ready to shit his pants as he eyed the big hockey players.

  “Fuck you.” Isaac growled. “I’m not paying your bill.”

  “Yes, you are,” Cooper said from the doorway. “You’re the new guy, you buy the pizza.”

  “Well, hell.” Isaac dug in his wallet for cash and gave it to the kid, along with a big tip.

  Cedric sprawled on Isaac’s bed, propping the pillows behind his head and clutching a piece of pizza in each hand. Strings of cheese stretched from Ced’s mouth to one hand. Isaac stared at his pillow now boasting a greasy spot. Cedric didn’t give a shit.

  Isaac frowned, as he shut the hotel room door and looked for a place to sit. He grabbed a piece of pizza and dropped to the edge of the bed, observing rather than participating. Socializing in his room hadn’t been part of his road trips in years.

  Brick, Rush, and Cedric discussed the puck bunnies who’d been hanging out after the game. Supposedly Cedric scored with one of them, and the younger players hung on his every word as if he were their idol—he probably was. Blake discussed detailed aspects of the game with Cooper, leaving Isaac as the odd man out. Exactly the reason why he avoided this type of thing. He’d never been good in social situations. Somehow he managed to irritate people by saying the wrong thing, even when trying so hard to behave. So why try?

  Isaac’s phone vibrated on the end table at the opposite side of the bed, and Brick reached for it, grinning as he read the text out loud: He’s good. Great game tonight. I caught the end of it.

  Brick and Rush laughed. “Damn, that’s boring, Ice. I’d have expected more dirty talk from your woman.”

  This type of thing was exactly why Isaac avoided hanging with his teammates. He leapt on the bed and snatched the phone from Brick’s grasp. “That’s not my girlfriend, that’s my dog sitter.”

  The idiots kept laughing, and now they had the attention of the rest of the room. Like a pack of wild dogs sensing weakness in their prey, they pounced.

  “You have a dog?” Rush sounded genuinely amazed. “What kind? A pit bull?”

  “A boxer,” Isaac answered through gritted teeth.

  “Riley wants a dog,” Cooper noted, coming to Isaac’s rescue whether his actions were intentional or not. “I guess I’m going to have to get him one. I’ve always like boxers. What’d ya think, Ice?”

  “I guess they’d be good kids’ dogs.” Isaac shrugged, like he was a dog expert. Hell, Hal hated his guts, and the feeling was mutual.

  “I’d love to have a dog,” Blake noted, “but it’s hard enough to find a place that’ll take a kitten.”

  “You have a kitten?” Brick raised both eyebrows, elbowed his buddy, and they broke into peals of renewed laughter. Isaac got it. It was one thing to have a manly dog like a boxer—thank God Hal wasn’t a poodle—but another to have a kitten. He couldn’t imagine big, bad Blake with a kitten. It was damn weird.

  “I have a cat.” Cooper stared down the young guys until they stopped laughing and started squirming under his intense gaze.

  “Oh, uh, yeah, cats are cool,” Rush jumped to make amends for his laughter.

  “Nothing wrong with cats,” Brick added with a sheepish grin.

  “There is if you keep getting kicked out of every hotel room because of a cat.”

  “You’re still living in a hotel room?” Cooper asked.

  “Yeah.” Blake shrugged.

  “Hey, Ice, aren’t you living in Brad Reynolds’s old farmhouse by the barn where Avery works?” Leave it to Cedric to keep track of where all the hot women lived.

  Isaac nodded warily, not sure where this was going, but pretty certain he wouldn’t like the direction, nor did he care for the dissecting gaze Coop directed at him.

  “There’s plenty of room for another person there,” Cedric continued, not the least bit deterred by the look on Isaac’s face.

  “Yeah, there is,” Cooper added. “You can stay with Isaac. After all, you two are roommates on the road.”

  Blake looked eagerly at Isaac for confirmation. A month ago Isaac would’ve told them all to go to hell and not thought a thing about it. This time he didn’t dare. Besides, it was a big house.

  “I don’t know if my dog would get along with a cat,” he hedged.

  “He’ll learn after a few well-placed swats,” Cooper the cat lover grinned. Enjoying Isaac’s discomfort, he pushed for the goal, which was more likely than not to place a spy in Isaac’s house. “We’ll help you move in when we get back, Blake.” Cooper swung his gaze around to include both men. “Just keep your mitts off the twins next door, and you’ll both do fine.”

  “I have a girlfriend,” Blake responded.

  Isaac grunted and said nothing to incriminate himself. The phone vibrated again in his hand, and he glanced down at it.

  “Hey, isn’t Avery one of the twin’s names?” Brick winked wickedly at Isaac. Isaac held his breath, knowing exactly what was coming next.

  “Yeah,” Cooper said slowly, his suspicious gaze sliding over Brick and resting on Isaac. “Why?”

  “Is that the same Avery who keeps texting you, Ice?”

  Isaac’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he couldn’t find the words to dig himself out of this mess.

  Cooper’s jaw tightened. His blue eyes turned dark and stormy. “Is it the same Avery?”

  Isaac put a lid on his urge to slam Brick to the floor and beat the crap out of him. That would not qualify as being a good teammate. “Uh, yeah. We’re just friends. She’s dog-sitting for me.” Isaac hoped his words sounded more casual to Cooper than they did to his own ears.

  “Make sure you keep it that way. Avery and Emma are good girls. They wouldn’t know how to deal with a guy like you.”

  Now what the hell was that supposed to mean? Isaac bristled, pissed off and defensive, his famous temper begging to be let out of the cage he’d locked it in since coming to Seattle. A month ago Cooper’s words would’ve been a compliment, now he saw them as an insult.

  Yawning, Cooper leaned back in the chair, regarding Isaac lazily. He linked his finger
s behind his head, refusing to acknowledge Isaac’s irritation. He’d just thrown cold water on the defenseman’s temper, and his method had been effective and non-confrontational. None of the guys appeared to know what’d just happened, but Isaac knew.

  Oh, yeah, he knew.

  * * * *

  Avery paced the barn aisle, phone in hand. Sure, it was late, but she expected an immediate response from Isaac and had gotten none. Hal waddled past her to go outside and do his business. He really was a sweet dog, once you got to know him. He’d taken a shine to both Avery and Emma, but it was Tiff he’d fallen in love with. And fallen was the operative word. Every time he saw her, he’d flip onto his back, legs in the air, and wriggle around, making the most undog-like noises and begging her to scratch his belly.

  Tiff would smile and comply with his shameless request.

  Avery’s phone dinged, and she grinned.

  It was him.

  She read the text, greedy for any contact with him. Sorry, invaded by teammates with pizza. Gone now, except roommate. So you watched the game?

  Yes. I’m becoming a fan.

  So am I.

  Avery paused, her finger hovering above the tiny keyboard. Did he mean? Could he possibly mean—?

  A fan? Of hockey? She tapped out and held her breath.

  Of you.

  She was a fan, too, of his. She missed him more than she had a right to miss a man she’d only known a few weeks, a man who could be a friend and only a friend. She didn’t know how to respond to his comment, though, because she wanted to read more into it than she dared. Despite Cooper and Izzy’s warnings, Avery couldn’t help herself. She was attracted to Isaac, and he was definitely attracted to her.

  Friends. Just friends. And why did she get the idea that’d be a cold day in hell?

  Thanks again for taking care of Hal.

  Not a problem. He’s good for Tiff.

  Okay. Good night then.

  Good night.

  “Isaac again?”

  Avery gave a guilty start and hit a button on the phone to prevent Emma from seeing the texts.

  “You’re asking for trouble. I’m warning you.”

  Avery sat back on the ratty couch and scratched her jaw. “Don’t you get tired of that?”

  “Of what?”

  “Izzy and Cooper controlling every part of your life.”

  “They mean well,” Emma staunchly defended their oldest sibling, and Avery expected nothing less from her loyal, if naive, sister.

  Avery rolled her eyes.

  “Besides, we were talking about you and Isaac.”

  “Actually, we weren’t. What happens or doesn’t happen with Isaac isn’t subject to discussion. If our relationship didn’t endanger Isaac’s position on the team, I wouldn’t give a shit what Cooper and Izzy wanted. I’m done living my life to make big sister happy. I love her, but my life is mine now, and I’m keeping it that way.”

  Emma blinked a few times, but didn’t argue. Instead she got this faraway look in her eyes. “He is hot in a dark, brooding way.”

  Avery’s head snapped up, and she grinned at her sister. “You think?”

  “I’m not blind. I know a hot guy when I see him. He’s not as hot as Tanner, but he’s hot.”

  “I think he’s hotter. Tanner is too fake for me.”

  Emma shrugged and ducked her head but not before Avery saw the flush on her cheeks. Well, what do you know? Sweet, innocent Emma had a thing for big, bad Tanner Wolfe. It was nothing but a harmless crush. Emma was so not Tanner’s type, and he was definitely more than Emma could handle.

  “Emma—” She stopped herself. She hated being lectured by her sisters, so she’d be damned if she’d do it to Emma.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You and I could both stand to take a page out of Bella’s book.”

  “You think?” Emma asked.

  “I know,” Avery answered, almost feeling sad. Bella would’ve told Coop and Izzy off and done her own thing, not caring about the disaster left in her wake.

  Avery cared, too much, especially when it came to wounded animals, and Isaac was the most wounded animal she’d ever met, even if he hid it well.

  Chapter 11—Slammed

  Isaac sat on the bench and inspected his skates before the fourth game of the Sockeyes’ road trip. Usually he spent the time before a game in his own world, apart from everyone else, while he prepared himself mentally. Only tonight, he paid attention to his teammates, watched them joke around with each other and the unique ways each of them prepared. Drew Delacorte always put every piece of clothing on the exact same way. Brick preferred to stay naked as long as he possibly could. Cedric joked with everyone, loosening them up, and deftly sensing which guys needed a distraction and which guys didn’t. Cooper watched his team with a critical, yet encouraging, eye, like a strict father with high expectations. Isaac knew all about that, only Cooper didn’t have the abusive, cruel streak present in Isaac’s own father.

  Normally, Isaac put his phone in the back of his locker and never looked at it. Right now he clutched it in his hand and stared at the screen, as if that would make her text him. It’d become a ritual that Avery texted him every night just before the game. Yet she was late tonight, and he feared he might have to go on the ice before seeing her message. Not that he was superstitious or anything, but he took his luck where he could find it. The phone vibrated in his hand, and he glanced down at it.

  Good luck tonight. I’ll be watching.

  He didn’t realize he had a stupid grin on his face until he caught Blake looking at him strangely.

  “Who is she?” Blake asked as he ran a finger over the blade on one skate.

  “She? What makes you think it’s a female?”

  “Seriously? Unless you’re gay, it’s a female.” Blake raised a brow and snorted. “You’ve been texting back and forth this entire road trip.”

  “She’s just a friend.”

  “And I’m just a figure skater.” Blake chuckled.

  Isaac laughed and pushed himself to his feet. Blake was an okay guy. He appreciated that Blake didn’t talk much and usually minded his own business. If he had to be stuck with a damn roommate, at least it was a quiet guy like Blake instead of an idiot like Brick or Rush.

  He’d been just like them once, a randy playboy chasing after his next conquest, even though he’d had an on-again, off-again girlfriend back home. He didn’t have a clue if these guys had girlfriends or if they just did a one-and-done. Whatever it was, an endless stream of puck bunnies fought for their attention and many of them got it.

  Isaac bent his head and tapped out a response. You watching is all the luck I need.

  Watch it, Ice, I might have to accuse you of having a heart.

  Isaac feared that might be the case, too. A shadow blocked the lights in the room, and Isaac glanced up. Cooper stared down at him, frowning.

  Gotta go. Later.

  Bye.

  Isaac shut off the phone and shoved it in the back of his locker. Cooper studied him for a few more uncomfortable seconds, giving Isaac the feeling he could see right through him. Isaac nodded and kept his head down, fearing Cooper’s shrewd gaze would cut right through any bullshit to Isaac’s guilty, black soul.

  “Play the game you’ve been playing,” he said simply. Then he moved on to Blake.

  Isaac closed his eyes and shut out the noise around him, preparing himself mentally. They’d won two out of three, and Isaac had played dependable, steady defense. He’d been a rock, a solid contributor, and he’d been—almost—a team player. He’d quit looking at his stats and competing against himself, and actually started thinking about competing against their opponents.

  Several minutes later Isaac did lazy warm-up circles on the ice, getting a feel for this particular arena’s ice, which could be problematic at times, with some soft spots here and there.

  “Hey,” Brick said, waving Isaac over to the net.

  Isaac stopped in fron
t of him. “Yeah?”

  “I haven’t said much, but I want to thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For making my job so much easier when you’re on the ice. You’ve got my back, and I appreciate how hard you work to keep the puck away from the net.”

  “You don’t need to thank me for doing my job.”

  Brick pushed his helmet back and grinned. “You’re wrong, Ice. I do.” He shoved the blue and green helmet sporting a nasty looking fish with bared teeth down over his eyes and went back to his pre-game drills.

  Isaac skated away, and his chest swelled with a feeling so foreign he didn’t have a clue at first what the hell it might be. In fact, he was sitting in the penalty box during the second period when he realized what it was—satisfaction—the kind that comes from being there for your teammate and not just yourself.

  He’d never realized being a team player could feel so good.

  * * * *

  Halfway through the third period, Isaac’s stick intercepted the puck on its way to a sure goal. A sound thwack of the stick sent the puck flying toward the boards behind the net, and Isaac followed. Brick crouched down low, his eyes on the puck.

  As a team, they hadn’t given Brick much help during this game, but he’d been a one-man goal stopper. Judging by the sweat pouring down his face under his helmet, he was running out of gas. Isaac was determined to do all he could to give the guy a break, especially after Brick had thanked him before the game—a thanks Isaac wasn’t feeling too deserving of right about now.

  Isaac flew toward the boards, ready to mix it up with any poor soul he happened to come into contact with. He lunged at the puck, his stick slashing back and forth on the ice, when someone slammed into him from the side and threw him hard against the glass, so hard it should’ve shattered, but it didn’t. Isaac struggled to right himself and realized his attacker had been his own teammate.