Wild Ice

by Rachelle Vaughn

  JD wished Harry Houdini could stop by and make Teal Manor disappear altogether, so he’d be off the hook. Then the image of Lauren’s pretty face flashed through his mind. JD didn’t want to let Lauren down. He didn’t want to see a look of disappointment on her face. Somehow he had to pull himself together and make her a dinner she wouldn’t forget.

  Well, after tonight’s debacle, she wasn’t about to forget this failure of a dinner anytime soon.

  She was about to find out a few things about him all right. Like how tonight JD couldn’t seem to cook a meal he’d prepared a hundred times before, even to save his life. How, although he’d never folded under pressure before, tonight he was folding faster than a yard sale lawn chair.

  He’d only invited her because he wanted to—what? Why had he invited Lauren over for dinner? Well, he’d wanted to see her again because he liked the way her eyes lit up when she talked about birds. He hadn’t felt any kind of excitement about anything in a very long time and she seemed to get excited about the simplest of things. He liked how she listened to him and didn’t pressure him for answers or guilt him into giving them.

  Besides, was it a crime to eat a meal with someone? No, but serving her salad with no dressing and sauce with no chicken would be a crime indeed. Oh well, there wouldn’t be any wine for her to wash it down with anyways.

  When JD transferred the chicken from the fry pan and into the baking dish, the cutlet slipped out of the tongs and onto the floor. The plopping sound echoed through the kitchen, perfectly representing his epic failure. To make matters worse, Mel descended on the chicken like a buzzard and devoured it in one gulp. The dog licked his chops and looked expectantly at JD for more, like he was a chicken dispenser there solely for Mel’s enjoyment.

  JD’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

  What was his problem? He’d made this dish a gazillion times before without a hitch. Today just had to be the day when he developed butterfingers and senility.

  He looked down at his hands and they were shaking—damn it! Why was he so freakin’ nervous? He’d played hockey in front of thousands of scrutinizing fans with no problem. Here he was trying to cook dinner for one woman and it felt like his heart was going to pound its way out of his chest. Good thing it didn’t or else Mel would probably scarf that up in one gulp up, too.

  JD felt awful about ruining dinner. He wasn’t used to failing. He’d been a damn good hockey player and a helluva good husband for that matter. Even though he had no control over Darla’s diagnosis, when she passed away he felt like he’d failed her somehow. This dinner was a complete failure and he should’ve had control over it.

  JD sighed and scraped his hands through his hair. He leaned against the fridge and looked at the single remaining piece of chicken. What the hell was he going to do now? Lauren was going to be here any minute—a knock on the sliding glass door sounded—and he only had one measly piece of chicken to offer her, a salad with no dressing, and absolutely no contingency plan.

  Mel whined as if to say “Hurry up with the rest of the chicken down here” and JD glared at his lazy, ungrateful excuse for a man’s best friend and went to answer the door.

  JD slid open the door and Lauren breezed through it bringing with her the fresh grassy smell of the outdoors. She had changed into a cotton sundress that left her shoulders bare. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, wavy from being braided earlier. He imagined her unbraiding it and the silky locks falling around her bare shoulders. JD breathed in her floral scent and forgot all about the chicken disaster.

  Mel greeted her like he’d been waiting his whole life for her to walk through that door.

  “Oooh, it smells wonderful in here!” she exclaimed, taking a deep breath. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving.”

  JD shook himself out of the trance and frowned. “Uh, there was a slight mishap with the chicken and the sauce…and the salad.”

  “Oh.” Her brows furrowed creating tiny lines above the bridge of her nose. She walked passed him and went into the kitchen to survey the scene. Mel followed close behind, his big tail wagging so enthusiastically that it thumped against the cabinets.

  JD hung back and watched her look around the disaster in the kitchen.

  “Were you helping in here, Mel?” She talked to Mel in a slightly higher voice and he ate it up like—well, like chicken off the floor.

  JD sighed. “I forgot to buy salad dressing and then Mel ate one of the chicken breasts. Which was probably for the best because I think I burned the sauce anyway.”

  Lauren laughed and her eyes glittered under the recessed lighting in the kitchen.

  She didn’t criticize or make him feel bad or send him on a guilt trip; she just stood in the middle of his kitchen and laughed. In fact, her laugh was so infectious that JD couldn’t help but crack a smile.

  Mel danced around her feet—as gracefully as a 70 pound dog could—and she reached down to scratch him behind the ears. “You were helping out, weren’t you?” she asked Mel.

  Thump, thump answered his tail.

  “It was supposed to be chicken parmesan,” JD explained.

  “So how was it?” Lauren asked Mel. “I bet it was tasty, huh.” She gave Mel’s thick skull a pat and looked up at JD.

  JD leaned against the counter and watched as Mel melted into putty at Lauren’s feet. She certainly had a way about her. And it extended well beyond his dog.

  “Sorry about dinner. I don’t have a backup plan,” he admitted sheepishly.

  “Well, we’ll just have to improvise.”

  She patted his arm as she moved past him and to the refrigerator. The friendly gesture caused his skin to come alive. All of a sudden the enormous kitchen seemed much too small and his clothes fit way too tight and the air was much too dense.

  With a determined set of her shoulders, Lauren spun around and opened the fridge. She disappeared behind the refrigerator door and JD watched with wonder as she took inventory of its contents. Finding only Gatorade, an almost empty jar of mayonnaise and a jar of soggy olives, she shut the door and proceeded to survey the cabinets.

  Lauren fluttered around JD’s kitchen like a hummingbird as he stood still and tried to sort out his emotions. He hadn’t known what he’d be getting himself into when he found her on the trail that day. There was no one around to tell him how she’d impact his life, bringing sunlight and laughter. And she wasn’t even aware she was doing it. It just came natural to her, the smiles and genuine enthusiasm.

  One by one, Lauren searched the cupboards. JD didn’t want to bust her bubble, so he refrained from pointing out that they were as barren as the fridge.

  Mel thought Lauren was playing a game. He followed her from cupboard to cupboard, curious as to what she would produce. When she opened the cupboard where the Milk-Bones were stashed, Mel’s whole body wiggled in anticipation.

  “Tada!” She popped her head out of the pantry and shook a box. Mel sniffed at the box, but the scent was disappointing. “Waffle mix!” she exclaimed.

  JD frowned. Where had that come from? His housekeeper must have stashed it there. She was always bringing groceries in even though he insisted he didn’t need them. Between the language barrier and Veronica’s stubbornness, arguing with her was a lost cause.

  “Waffles?” He’d invited her over for dinner and she was willing to eat waffles? Once again, she amazed him.

  “Sure.” She peeked at him from around the door of the pantry. “Haven’t you ever had breakfast for dinner before?”

  “Yeah. It’s been a while, but…yeah. I guess so.”

  Lauren disappeared again and after a few minutes reappeared with a bottle of maple syrup.

  “Syrup!” It was the coup de gras and her smile reflected it.

  Disappointed in her findings, Mel gave up pursuit and flopped down onto the middle of the floor.

  Well, even if she’d found waffle mix and syrup, JD knew for a fact that he didn’t own a waffle iron—

  “Aha! A waffle maker!” S
he pulled out the ancient appliance and held it up like she’d found the jackpot. She set it on the counter and grinned at JD.

  Waffles for dinner? It wasn’t quite the dinner he had planned, but hey, why not?

  He shrugged and went over to help. “Waffles it is.”

  Together, they measured and mixed the ingredients in a bowl. While they waited for the first waffle to cook, Lauren showed him the pictures she took on the trail. Most of the photos were blurry, so she described what the bird was supposed to look like. When the waffle was done, Lauren plopped it onto a plate and JD spooned more batter onto the iron. Lauren buttered the waffle and poured so much syrup on it that a lake formed around it on the plate.

  “You take it,” JD said eyeing the syrupy moat. “I’ll get the next one.”

  Not liking that idea, Lauren shook her head and cut the waffle in half with a fork. “We’ll split it.” She handed him a fork and started cutting into her half. “You know, that’s the only thing I hate about waffles—the waiting.”

  JD looked at Lauren and noticed how different she was from his late wife. Darla had to have everything just right. The correct wine served with the meal. Champagne chilled to perfection, crisp matching linens and elegant flatware. She had a lot of their meals catered, but everything had to be perfect just the same.

  Even though she didn’t need to, Darla ate everything in moderation. She never overindulged in anything, never enjoyed too much of a good thing, even in the end. Rarely did she let herself do something just for the sake of enjoyment.

  JD liked that Lauren dug right in without a thought about pretense and propriety. He liked how she shared with him and how she didn’t care that they were standing in his kitchen eating waffles instead of sitting down to a formal dinner with wine and salad dressing.

  When Lauren was around, JD didn’t have time to dwell on the past. She sucked out all the negativity in a room and replaced it with thoughts and feeling he hadn’t experienced in months. She rolled with the punches and he admired that about her. He used to be the same way until life had thrown him a left hook and turned his world upside down.

  So, they stood side by side, leaning against the counter and eating waffles, and it was the most fun JD had had in this house.

  “I’m really sorry about dinner,” JD said for the umpteenth time as they loaded the dishwasher with a syrupy plate and forks. For some odd reason, JD cared about what Lauren thought of him and he didn’t want her thinking he was any less of a man than he already was.

  “It’s okay,” she said on a laugh and patted his hand.

  There was that tingle again. That feeling he got from the skin-to-skin contact. Whenever Lauren touched him, he felt alive again.

  “I’m sure your chicken would have been delicious, but this was more fun anyway. I’m glad you invited me,” she said through a smile. “Were you working out?”

  He looked at her questioningly before he realized that she was wondering why he’d been outside on his patio earlier, sweating like a pig.

  “Yeah. I have a treadmill but…someone showed me the beauty of being outdoors.”

  They shared a smile and when she patted his hand, she let it rest there on top of his.

  “Are you getting in shape for hockey season?”

  “No,” he croaked. He cleared his throat and started again. “I don’t play hockey anymore.” The words didn’t sound as resolute as he’d meant them to.

  “How long did you play for?” She’d spent so much of their time together spouting on about birds that Lauren wanted to know more about his passion. By the way his jaw was working, she hoped it wasn’t a sore subject.

  “Twelve years.”

  “Don’t you miss it?” She knew how much she had missed the refuge. He must feel the same way about the sport he played for so many years.

  “Every day,” he murmured. “It’s been too long,” he said quickly before she could ask why he didn’t just go back to it.

  “I’ve never skated before,” she admitted. “But I bet it’s just like riding a bike. Or whistling.” She pursed her lips together and blew. A weak sound came out and she laughed. “See, I haven’t whistled since I was a kid but I can still do it. Try it.”

  The look he gave her was skeptical.

  “Just put your lips together and blow,” she urged him.

  So, JD put his lips together and blew. His whistle was much stronger and clearer than her attempt.

  “See,” she said. “Just lace up your skates and go.”

  If only it was that easy, JD thought.

  Lauren leaned back against the sink, a thoughtful look on her face. “Ninety-nine percent of life is about how you deal with crises.” The look in his eyes was haunting and she gave a casual shrug to lighten the moment. “It’s what my aunt used to say anyway. She always had a way with words.”

  “You miss her.”

  “Yes. Very much. She always lived in the moment and I’ve been trying to do more of that lately. She was very genuine and not cold and mechanical like my parents. They analyze everything to death and are always diagnosing my every feeling like I’m one of their patients or something.”

  “Your parents are doctors?”

  “Psychologists.”

  “Oh.” He’d been to one after Darla passed away, but he didn’t like the experience. Too much….talking.

  “Your parents probably drive you crazy, too.”

  JD looked at the floor. “My mother died when Kyle and I were young and I’m not close with my father.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  There was another one of those JD Mason patented shrugs.

  “I guess my parents did kind of help me out after Daniel skipped town. I was so mad and he wasn’t there for me to take it out on, so...”

  “It’s okay to be angry,” JD said softly. “He hurt you. I was angry for a long time, but now I’m just…” Numb? Bitter? Helpless? Devastated? He let the sentence trail off because he didn’t know how to finish it.

  “You know, JD, things don’t always work out the way you expect them to. You can plan and plan until you turn blue in the face, but that doesn’t guarantee they’re going to turn out. You just have to accept the good things that come your way and step over the bad stuff so it doesn’t get all over your shoes.”

  * * *

  Mel was so excited for JD to be taking an interest in the garage that he sniffed every inch of the space as if he’d never been there before.

  The combination of finding Darla’s letter and the conversation he’d had with Lauren last night caused JD to take another small step forward. Any doubt he’d had about inviting Lauren over for dinner disappeared along with the last of the maple syrup.

  The woman was profoundly brilliant and she didn’t even know it. Absolutely brilliant. He probably should write the things she said down somewhere. Lord knew he could use all the wise words he could get his hands on. Speaking of hands, Lauren sure had a way of unnerving him with hers. She was touchy-feely, but not in an obnoxious way. Whenever she brushed against him, he had to stop himself from leaning closer to her. If he let himself hold her, he didn’t know if he would be able to resist kissing her.

  Last night from his porch, they watched the sun go down behind the trees. While the sky exploded into vibrant oranges and pinks and eventually disappeared behind the mountains, they sat in companionable silence. Suddenly Hayley’s Point didn’t seem so lonely anymore.

  JD looked across the garage. There it was. What was left of his hockey career sat in a heap in the corner, in the exact same place he’d put it when he moved in. A fine layer of dust covered his sticks and the tape on the handles had curled up at the edges.

  He dug his duffle bag out from where it fallen behind an old ice chest. A spider had taken up residence near the zipper and he flung it away. He unzipped the bag and the familiar smells of leather and sweat wafted from inside. He pulled out his skates and ran his fingers over the blades.

  Mel looked expectantly at JD.

&
nbsp; “Well, what do you think, buddy? Is this a good idea?”

  Mel whined and nudged the skate toward JD with his nose.

  JD agreed with his dog. He’d put it off long enough. He slipped his feet into the skates and laced them up. The skates raised him up a good four inches in addition to his already impressive height. He wiggled his toes and was instantly transported to the locker room. The guys would be putting their gear on, chattering about this and that, the goalies somber in the corner busy visualizing their saves…

  A familiar feeling tugged at his emotions. Competiveness flowered again and pumped newly through his veins. He was reminded of the reasons he loved the sport to begin with. Hockey wasn’t just something he could shove into a dark corner of the garage and forget about. It was part of him.

  He missed it. All of it. That feeling of anticipation as they filed out of the room and down the corridor toward the ice. The feel of his skates hitting the ice, the roar of the crowd, the smell of the ice. The sound of his skate blades scraping across the ice. The camaraderie. The endless travel, back and forth, zigzagging across the country. Coach screaming until he was red in the face. Morning practices, autograph signings, interviews, visiting kids in the hospital…

  For so long, JD had sat and wondered who he was and how he could go on when there wasn’t anything left inside of him to give. Turns out, he was a great many things. First and foremost he was a flesh and blood man with feelings, emotions, fears and passions. Although it took him a while, he’d learned to accept that. He was also a hockey player and an avid runner. And lastly, he was a man who had been given a second chance to love and a second chance at life.

  There was no sense in fighting it. The only person he was punishing was himself and he was damned tired of playing martyr. Today, he decided he was ready to move forward. With everything. With his life and with hockey. He’d taken more than enough time to lick his wounds and lay low and now he was ready to move on.

  Move on.

  JD knew the words well. Now it was just time to put them in motion.