by Addison Fox
With a casualness she didn’t feel, Avery glanced up from her menu. “He left, Mick. A long time ago. I’ve gotten over it, and there’s no reason to think we need to start things back up.”
“Believe me when I say I know what a royal pain in the ass all the attention is. But take it away, the innuendo and the gossip, and what are you left with?”
“Nothing, Mick.” She folded her menu and picked up her cup of coffee. “Absolutely nothing.”
• • •
Roman’s royally shitty morning went from bad to worse when he walked through the door of the café. All he wanted was a damn omelet and a cup of coffee, not a resounding reminder of what he didn’t have last night.
Yet there sat Avery and Mick, having breakfast and talking.
Their position in one of the front booths also ensured he couldn’t just order at the counter and walk out without looking like a world-class jerk.
“What happened?” Avery’s gaze ran the length of him before she was up and out of the booth. “Are you bleeding?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re a mess.”
He brushed off the concern and slid into the booth she’d just gotten out of. His knee did throb like a blinking neon sign, but he’d deal with it later. “I’m fine.”
“What happened?” Mick’s voice was calmer, but Roman didn’t miss the sharpness to the question.
“I tripped on my run this morning. No big.”
“You’re covered in grass stains and you really need to put something on that knee.”
Before he could brush it off as nothing, Avery’s hand was on his thigh and she had a handful of napkins out of the small metal holder on the table, pressed against his throbbing knee.
And just like that, something else a few inches from her hand began to throb worse.
Way worse.
“I’m fine, Ave.” It wasn’t until the words were out that he realized his teeth were clamped so tightly his jaw ached.
Sudden awareness flashed in her gorgeous gaze. For a moment, he delighted in the simple sincerity of her actions and the fact that the walls usually standing high and impenetrable between them weren’t in evidence.
Until that gaze flashed once again—this time to his groin—and her eyes widened in surprise.
Gruff instructions rang out as she lifted her hand from his thigh. “Here. Hold the napkins against your knee for a few more minutes.”
“Thanks.” Even if I’d rather you hold something more interesting than a stack of napkins.
Mick’s averted gaze and focus on his coffee was the only thing that kept Roman’s comment from being voiced. Add in the not so subtle fact that Avery had pulled her hand away from his body as if scalded—along with the reason for his tumble—and his humiliation was complete.
“What are you both having?” Roman asked.
“Pancakes,” they said in unison.
Although he’d been set on the omelet, the thought of all those carbs had him reconsidering. Maybe the morning could be salvaged after all. “Hangover fare if I’ve ever heard it.”
“Which is why I’m going to be a good fiancé and bring a stack home to Grier when I leave.”
“Grier have a tough night?”
“Tougher morning,” Mick said with a speculative gaze at his mug. “There’s coffee at home for when she wakes up but I left her sleeping.”
“What about you?” He turned toward Avery. “You look well rested and hangover free.” Yet another battering to his ego at the evidence that she must have slept like a baby.
“I had my moments. I’m just lucky I stopped before I could do any real damage.”
Because they sat side by side Roman couldn’t see a full view of her face, but he didn’t miss her meaning. “Well, the things we miss out on are often the most fun experiences. Even if we pay for them in the morning.”
Avery did turn toward him at that, her dark eyebrows a hard slash over expressive eyes.
Served her right. She could say whatever she wanted, but he wasn’t alone in that damn hallway last night. She responded to his kiss like she remembered all the ways they were good together.
Damn good together.
They were prevented from extending the argument by the arrival of their waitress bearing coffee. Roman ordered the omelet he’d planned on—the years of strength training had drilled too much discipline into him to act on the pancake impulse.
“Myrtle’s got the whole town excited that you’re coaching the kids.” Mick eyed him over the rim of his coffee cup.
“It should be fun. I want to keep up my workouts in the off season, and their enthusiasm will be the extra kick in my old ass.”
“The coach ran out near the end of the season. Jack and I didn’t even have to fly him, he just packed his few bags and hopped on the train.”
“Asshole,” Roman muttered as he doctored his coffee. Three spoonfuls of sugar and about as much milk.
Avery had always teased him about how he put more stuff in his coffee than what was already in the mug. Annoyed that he’d think of their shared past over a damn cup of coffee, he attempted to get his mind back in their booth.
“He was that. No one in town liked him, so other than disappointing the kids, no one was sorry he left.” Avery reached for the sugar after he set it down and doctored her own coffee. Although she didn’t layer up with a heavy dosing of cream, he saw that age hadn’t diminished her love of sugar.
And just like that, Memory Lane decided it wasn’t quite done kicking his ass.
He remembered kissing her, that sweet coffee fresh on her tongue as they skated out on the river that ran along the edge of town. He’d used a debris-free quarter-mile stretch of river for his skating practice and she always found a way to cheer him on, pushing him to work harder.
To skate harder.
To sweat and toil and ache for what he wanted, even though it meant all that work would take him away from her.
It had taken him a long time to understand how selfless she’d truly been, pushing him all along.
The image of hot kisses on the cold river faded and Roman tried to focus back in on their discussion. “How long was he here?”
“Less than a season. Claimed the winter was longer than he expected it to be.”
“Where did you guys find him?”
“California.” Avery snorted. “He thought he had the balls to handle Alaska.”
“Clearly he missed the mark,” Roman said.
“Or we did.”
“Oh come on,” Avery needled Mick. “You had your doubts from the day you flew him up here from Anchorage.”
“I didn’t say anything, though. He was already hired. What good would it do to bad-mouth the guy?”
“It might have saved Trina a big dose of heartache.”
“She still playing the field?” Roman keyed in on that, a long-forgotten memory of Trina and the going-away “present” she attempted to bestow upon him the night before he left an image he’d prefer to forget.
“Sadly, yes.” Avery’s tone held a distinct note of sympathy, and Roman had to admit it was probably better he’d kept Trina’s offer of a going-away present a secret.
“Add to it he wasn’t from around here and you had her perfect target. Unlike you”—she swatted him on the elbow as their waitress placed three heaping plates on their table—“who denied her from giving you a proper send-off.”
“You knew about that?”
“How do you think I knew to show up at the exact proper moment? She’d spread it around to anyone who would listen, including my friends, that she was going after you before you left.”
“And you never told me?”
“What was the point? If I’d thought you were going to do anything about it, I’d have cut your balls off with the blunt end of your hockey stick.”
Mick winced along with Roman’s own audible “Ouch.”
“I can’t believe you knew and didn’t say anything.”
“I knew
.” Avery grinned, the first genuine smile he’d see since getting home. “And I figured I’d give you enough credit not to make a big deal about it.”
Her words caught him up short and he marveled at the insight she’d managed to have at eighteen. He’d dated plenty of women over the years—some more successfully than others—and every single one had shared something in common.
All of them got territorial when another woman came into view.
Although he’d never been ready to commit to a life with any of them, he was a one-woman man. If he was dating, he was committed, and he’d never insult a woman by cheating on her.
How was it that Avery had understood that at such a young age, and women far more world-weary hadn’t?
“I knew, too, if it makes you feel any better,” Mick said.
“You knew because I told you.”
“No.” Mick shook his head. “I knew before that. Not much was a secret in our pea-sized high school.”
“Yet you allowed me to face my fate alone.”
“I was probably up in the air when it all came down.”
“Likely story.”
Roman couldn’t stop the smile, the good-natured ribbing and memories of a far-simpler time too nice to resist. He’d been lucky through the years, making some good, lasting friendships in the NHL, but none of them was as long-standing—or as solid—as what he had with Mick and Walker.
Avery, too, he realized.
She’d been there from the first.
Which was why leaving her behind years ago was the only answer.
• • •
Avery smiled when the bright morning sun and cool breeze greeted her as she, Mick and Roman walked through the door of the café. Whatever bad mood she’d come in with, the pancakes and good conversation had gone a long way toward assuaging it. She realized that this was the first time since Roman had arrived back in town that their time together had been comfortable and easy instead of mired in thoughts of the past.
And even more enjoyable than she’d remembered.
While it had become habit to think about all the years they’d missed together, she couldn’t help but be glad for the new moments they were able to share. Which had to be the reason for her tragic mistake.
“Do you guys want to go with me to the rink?” Roman asked. “I want to check it out before seeing the kids. Mort was supposed to meet me, but Myrtle shared the unfortunate news that something on the wedding menu didn’t agree with him.”
Mick lifted a take-out carton, a grimace on his face. “I’ve got to get these pancakes home and then out to the airstrip. I’ve got a late-morning run to Fairbanks.”
“I’ll go.” Avery shrugged, unable to resist that warm, green gaze. “Susan doesn’t need me back until lunch.”
“Good.”
Avery saw Roman’s satisfied nod—along with Mick’s momentary hesitation—before Mick spoke. “You still in for poker tonight?”
“You still prepared to lose?”
“Jackass.”
“Count on it.”
The two shook hands and offered up a few more insults before Mick headed for his SUV.
Avery at least gave Roman the courtesy of waiting until Mick was out of earshot. “You suck at poker.”
“Not anymore.”
“You understand the game and you bet well, but you have no poker face. At all.”
“Like I said, I’m better now.”
“That’s not a skill you change, Roman. It’s like eye color or black hair. You are who you are and either you have a poker face or you don’t.”
He gestured her forward down Main Street and in the direction of the town rink. “I beg to differ. You get your ass kicked enough times and you figure out how to stop getting it kicked. It’s survival instinct, pure and simple.”
His words held an odd measure of truth and she couldn’t resist looking at his profile as they walked. The bright sun kept part of him in silhouette, but the side of his face that she could see was more guarded than when they’d been kids.
Tougher.
And sexier than ever.
Had he developed a poker face? Or had he simply learned how to be more cautious as age, wisdom and a lifetime spent in the spotlight took their toll?
“So the rink’s in pretty bad shape? I got the sense from Mort at the wedding it hasn’t been taken care of very well.”
His question brought her out of her musings to focus on the large dwelling that sat just past the WELCOME TO INDIGO, ALASKA sign. Where the Love Monument—his grandmother’s ode to her late husband—stood at the far end of town, the hockey rink stood proudly at its entrance.
Avery had always thought the two were an odd juxtaposition. The hockey rink announced they were a good, old-fashioned Alaskan town that loved the winter sport with a passion, and the Love Monument was hidden away, a treasure the locals kept close to the vest.
Outward expressions and inward feelings.
Like Indigo had its own poker face and it just dared anyone to discover who it really was, deep in the heart of the Alaskan wilderness.
“Yeah, it’s not good. I don’t think there’s been a single update made since you skated there.”
“That was years ago. And it was pretty bad then.”
“Exactly.”
The front doors were unlocked when they got there, the large, cavernous space echoing as the heavy door slammed behind them.
“John Wilcox still manage the place?”
“His son does now. John retired to Texas and fishes all day.”
Roman smiled as his gaze roved around the lobby. “Good for him.”
“He started an e-mail loop and sends notes all winter long, taunting us with how warm it is. He also has quite a following on Twitter.”
“No shit?”
“Yep. Retirement agrees with him.”
“Who knew? I thought he was the meanest man in town. Clearly he just needed an infusion of Vitamin D.”
“Sunlight and heat do seem to agree with him.”
Roman pointed toward the large double doors that closed off the rink from the lobby, anticipation hovering around him like a cloak. “Come on. Let’s go look.” He grabbed her hand—whether intentional or unconscious, she didn’t know—but the small outreach felt so right she shrugged off her questions and went with it.
And if a small wave of heat ran from the tips of her fingers to her shoulder, well, she’d worry about that later.
“There’s not much to look at—”
The words weren’t even out when Roman stopped up short and she nearly tripped over herself to avoid barreling into him. Cool, moist air coated her skin and a heavy, dank smell assaulted the senses through the open door. Although the distinct notes of cold sweat were always in evidence at an ice rink, Avery knew there was something else layered underneath.
Years and years of disrepair and neglect.
“The kids actually play here?”
“They make do.”
“How? It’s disgusting.” Roman dropped her hand as his attention caught on something near the penalty box. He moved down the first row of bleachers, his heavy footfalls echoing off the metal. Kneeling gingerly on the knee that wasn’t injured, he ran his hands over the battered, splintered wood that made up the back side of the boards.
“This is rotten almost all the way through. Someone’s going to get hurt in here.”
“The kids don’t hit that hard.”
“This would splinter under the weight of a kindergartener.”
“It’s not that bad, Roman.” Why she felt the need to defend the mess, she wasn’t sure, but there was something in his face that had her defenses rising.
He looked so sad.
And very disappointed.
“It’s a disgrace.”
“People do the best they can. Other things have taken priority over the years.”
“So much so that no one can even spend a Saturday hammering up some new wood?” Where she’d seen anticipation when t
hey walked in the door, anger now set his shoulders in a hard, stiff line.
“It’s not that easy.”
“It’s not that hard, either.”
A response waited on the tip of her tongue, but she held it back, refusing to give words to the anger that swelled in her breast.
He regained his feet and turned to face her, his big hands on his slim hips. His six-foot-four-inch frame—honed to perfection as a professional athlete—was rather imposing as he stood there. “What? I can see you want to say something. Out with it.”
“No, it’s nothing.”
“Ave?”
She hissed out a breath. For all her belief in her own poker face, he managed to call her bluff each and every time. “I just think you could be a little less judgmental.”
“I’m not being judgmental, I’m being practical. This place is a disaster and it needs to be fixed.”
“Then do something about it.”
“Why me?” His hands dropped and he turned to walk farther down the bleachers, inspecting the boards as he went. She couldn’t drag her gaze off his athletic body or the way his shoulders tapered down to a firm ass that looked outrageously magnificent in shorts.
Damn, but the man’s body was a vision. A living, breathing monument to fitness, athleticism and sheer animal magnetism.
And just like that, the cold arena was suddenly way too hot.
She could only assume it was frustration that had her words coming out far more clipped and harsh than she meant as she followed him down the hard metal pathway of the bleachers. “Why not you?”
“Well why not everyone else, too?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I shouldn’t be the only one to care about this. Or notice it needs to be fixed. Hockey’s important to this town, or at least it used to be. If we got everyone in on it we could have this place fixed up in no time.”
“You want to do that?”
“I don’t think there’s a choice.” He flung a hand at the room at large. “I’m not teaching the kids in this disaster zone.”
Avery knew he spoke the truth. After Roman left town, she had a hard time coming here, but she’d found a way to keep supporting the town pastime. The last few years, though, she’d simply found it too depressing to continue.
“Damn, how could everyone let it get like this?”
