by Anna Sugden
He’d been looking forward to Christmas. Had even thought about taking Becca and Jade along to the annual Badoletti-Jelinek celebration, but had decided it might be too soon. He didn’t want to rush things. At least he hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, so wouldn’t have to answer any awkward questions. Though once they found out he and Becca were finished before they’d even really started, he might get quizzed about what he planned to do next.
Ike wasn’t sure what his next move would be. He hadn’t changed his mind about not wanting any more introductions through Tracy. While it hadn’t been a wholly unpleasant experience, it had been awkward and uncomfortable. Not something Ike wanted to continue. Especially as he knew it wouldn’t work anyway. This thing with Becca had shown that pretty damn clearly. How could it work, when the woman he wanted was the one setting him up with those dates? And he had as much chance of convincing her to give them another shot as he had of hoisting the Stanley Cup over his head. Hell, hoisting anything heavier than a puck right now.
Frankie dropped him at home a short while later. As Ike walked up the front path, his footsteps crunching on the cleared and salted paving stones, he noticed that his house was the only one on the block that wasn’t lit up or festive. He didn’t usually decorate, mainly because he was so busy training or playing or traveling that he didn’t have time to mess with lights, a tree and all the other crap. Besides, over the holidays, he was always at his mom’s or Jake’s parents’ place, and they decorated enough for everyone.
Normally, the lack of decoration didn’t bother him. But tonight, the house seemed like an uncomfortable metaphor for his life. Dark, empty, cold. Separated from the others, like he was from his teammates. Alone.
Ike’s morose feelings only deepened as he fought the urge to go for a run to clear his head. He wasn’t dumb enough to risk slipping on ice. He wasn’t even going to risk using the elliptical, though he’d finally been cleared for light workouts after Christmas. It was only a few more days. He’d come this far, he couldn’t screw it up just because he felt down. He should focus instead on the fact that the holidays marked the beginning of him getting that part of his life back under control.
Unfortunately, that also meant he’d have fewer reasons to see or talk to Tracy. He tried to tell himself that was a good thing as he walked into his house, but he wasn’t very convincing. Out of sight, out of mind worked both ways.
As he shrugged out of his jacket, Ike realized he should probably tell Tracy about things not working out with Becca. Nah. She’d find out soon enough. They’d already closed the books on the dating project. Why bring it up again, only to tell her he’d bombed out on what he’d told her was a sure thing? Okay, so he also didn’t want her encouraging him to take that extra introduction he’d said he didn’t need.
He slumped onto his couch and closed his eyes. He imagined the ice beneath his blades and the crisp air in his lungs as he skated around a rink. Even that didn’t help much. He was still at least a month away from doing that for real.
February couldn’t come soon enough.
* * *
ESCAPING OUTSIDE AT holiday parties was beginning to be a habit.
It was Christmas Day this time, and Ike was standing on Jake and Maggie’s back deck overlooking the snow-covered yard. The noise and the heat of all the bodies packed into the house, which was kept extrawarm for baby Joe, had become claustrophobic. If he was honest, so had all the holiday togetherness. Ike loved everyone in that house—family, friends and teammates—but for the first time, he’d understood how it was possible to feel lonely in a crowd.
Especially when that crowd was made up of two distinct groups—the happily paired off and the happily single. He didn’t belong to either group. He sure as hell wasn’t happy to be single. So, first chance he’d got, he’d slipped outside.
Ike took a long drink of his beer, then sighed, his breath misting in the frigid air. The light was fading fast as evening approached, lengthening the shadows and turning everything gray. Wind blew through the trees, rattling the bare limbs. Despite his heavy down jacket, Ike shivered.
“So this is where you’re hiding.” Jake came to stand next to him.
“Hardly hiding. I’m in full view of everyone in the kitchen.”
“You know what I mean.” Jake gave him a serious look. “I’ve been where you are. I know how hard it is to be injured. The isolation, the boredom and frustration.”
“Yeah. It sucks, for sure.” He didn’t want his friend to dig any deeper, so he said, “But things are looking up. My arm’s responded well to therapy and is healing faster than expected. I can start exercising in the new year, though I’ll have to take it cautiously for a bit. I’m supposed to hold off on the treadmill until I’ve built some strength back up, and I’m not allowed to run outside until this snow has cleared.” He held up his splinted arm. “This is coming off, too. I only have to wear it for support when I’m doing what they call ‘heavier activity.’”
Jake slapped Ike on the back. “Awesome. Any word on when you can start skating?”
“If I keep improving at this rate, mid-to late January.”
“So you could be practicing with us by the mid-to end of February?”
“Dr. Gibson won’t make any promises beyond getting me back skating. He wants to see how I make out with various levels of exercise before letting me back on the ice.” Ike grinned. “My goal is to be ready for non-contact practice way before the end of February, and full practice not long after that.”
“Then Hardshaw and Macarty will have to let you rejoin the team.”
“Coach will want me back for sure, but Hardshaw was adamant I’m done until October. I doubt he’ll change his mind, no matter how fit and ready I am.” He didn’t voice the niggling worry he had that his GM might not want him back at all.
“Sure, he will. The Cats are sitting pretty right now—we’ve had a nice run since that trip out West—but things can change fast. If we’re in danger of missing the cut, he’ll get you back between the pipes pronto. Truth is, as good as Monty’s been playing, he’s not you. We’ll need your expertise if we’re going to make a decent run at the Cup. Hardshaw knows that as well as anyone. They’ll need to get you playing time before the season ends, so you’re at peak game fitness for the first round.”
Ike desperately wanted that to be true, but he’d learned one thing since his accident—just because he wanted something badly didn’t mean it would happen. All he could do was his freaking best and hope the team’s management changed their minds. “We’ll see. I’ll be busting my ass to be ready, then it’s up to them.”
“As long as you don’t bust your arm again.”
“I don’t plan to. Hell, I don’t plan to ever get injured again. This sucks.”
“I hear you. Got that freaking T-shirt.” Jake nodded, his expression sympathetic. “In the meantime, I’m freezing my ass off out here. You coming back inside?”
Ike wasn’t ready to put on his happy face and be sociable. “I’ll hang out here for a while longer, thanks.”
“Don’t leave it too long. Frostbite won’t help.”
When Jake had gone, Ike scrubbed his hand over his jaw. Maybe he should get out of here before someone else came to cheer him up.
A burst of laughter drew his attention to the large leaded windows. Compared to the gray hues outside, the kitchen had a warm yellow glow. The picture within the icicle-edged windows was of happiness, family, people enjoying themselves, like a Norman Rockwell painting. As he had the other night after leaving Becca’s house, Ike felt left out. The kid outside the candy store. Not quite “bah, humbug,” but close.
Everyone was gathered in the kitchen, trying out the various dishes. Ike’s stomach rumbled at the delicious smells wafting through the opened vent-windows. He watched his mom and Rory feeding each other spoonfuls of different foods and debating
with Jake’s parents about what they wanted to sample next. Kenny and Emily tussled over bread sticks, while Jake stood with his arm around Maggie, who was holding Joe, looking proud and content.
His heart jumped as his gaze was drawn to Tracy standing alone on the far side of the kitchen. She held a full plate, but wasn’t eating. Despite her cheery red dress, her pensive expression suggested she felt as removed from the festivities as he did.
The need to go inside and replace that sad expression with a smile surged inside him. He even stepped toward the back door, but he was already too late. Ike ground his teeth as JB casually slung his arm over Tracy’s shoulder and said something to make her blush. She laughed and shook her head. She set her plate down as JB handed her a champagne flute. Ike cursed under his breath as the two clinked glasses.
Damn it. Why couldn’t that have been him?
Ike turned away and drained his beer. So much for shutting off his feelings for Tracy. That box in his brain refused to stay closed. If only he’d felt the same intense desire with Becca.
He had to get out of there.
Ike slammed his empty bottle on the deck railing and stomped toward the steps leading down into the yard. It was the coward’s way out. He should go inside and say goodbye, but he couldn’t face it.
At the bottom of the steps, he remembered he had to call Frankie to pick him up. Not being able to drive was another frustration in a long line of them. Ike pulled out his cell and made the call. He’d just hung up when he heard the screen door open and someone come outside. Not wanting to explain, Ike moved into the shadow of a large, thick-trunked tree and waited.
His breath caught when he saw Tracy standing where he’d been a minute earlier.
She picked up his discarded bottle, then peered out into the yard.
Ike shifted farther into the shadows. He should go, but his feet were rooted to the spot.
Until Tracy shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. She’d come outside without a coat. Ike shook his head. She’d freeze to death.
Before he could stop himself, Ike moved out of the shadows and headed for the steps.
* * *
“WHAT IDIOT GOES outside without a coat in New Jersey in December?” Tracy muttered as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms.
Her red wool dress was no match for the weather. Then again, she hadn’t worn it for warmth. The dress, with its round neck and pencil skirt, flattered her figure. And it had always gotten a reaction from Ike.
Still, with night falling and the temperatures dropping, she should’ve stopped to put on her coat and change back into the fur-lined boots she’d arrived in. Instead, she’d rushed outside in her red Jimmy Choos and left her coat hanging in the hall cupboard. Thankfully the deck had been shoveled, leaving only a light dusting, or she’d have probably slipped and gone head over heels.
The reason for her crazy dash into the freezing temperatures was right in front of her. The lone beer bottle planted in the snow on the deck railing. Unfortunately, it looked like she was too late and Ike had already left. She puffed out a breath, watching the frosty cloud swirl in front of her before disappearing—rather like Ike had just done.
He’d been standing on the deck, looking lost and lonely, and it had tugged at her heartstrings. Was there trouble in paradise? Was that why Becca wasn’t with him?
Tracy had to admit she was relieved. She’d been dreading the party and had steeled herself to face the pair and their happiness. She’d considered faking the flu, but hadn’t wanted to let Maggie down. Plus, she was damned if she’d be that pathetic.
Heavy footsteps coming up to the deck startled her. Heart pounding, she whirled round.
The light spilling from the kitchen window illuminated Ike’s face as he came into view.
“I thought you’d gone.” Bloody hell. Now he knew she’d been watching him.
“I was leaving.” He walked slowly toward her, unzipping his padded jacket. “Then I saw this crazy Brit standing outside without a coat in temperatures cold enough to freeze the nuts off a brass monkey, and decided to do her a favor before she died from exposure.” He shrugged out of his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Warmth from his body surrounded her, seeping into her chilled arms. The jacket smelled of him—that heady mix of clean, fresh male and a hint of spice.
“Uh, thanks,” she stuttered. “But now you’ll freeze.”
“I’m good for a few minutes. I think I can survive the cold.” He cocked a thumb at his chest. “Hockey player.”
Tracy rolled her eyes. “As well as not feeling pain, you hardy men don’t feel the cold, either. I’m amazed you cover up the superhero logo on your chest with a shirt.”
“Don’t want the other guys to feel inferior.” His modest expression made her laugh. “Anyway, what’s wrong with being a superhero? You get cool toys and wicked cars.”
“I’m with you there. Though in my case, it’s the rocking boots.”
“It’s always about the shoes with you women.” Ike shook his head, as if unable to understand the fuss.
“Give a girl the right pair of shoes and she can conquer the world.”
“I thought you just wore them to make your legs look better.”
Tracy’s cheeks heated. Trust Ike to hit that nail on the head. “Who says the two things are mutually exclusive?”
“I’ll plead the fifth. I’ve already got one injury and that spiked heel looks lethal.”
“Smart man.” She turned to look at the bottle and wondered how to ask about Becca.
Ike seemed content to stand next to her, saying nothing, staring out into the shadowed yard. The silence stretched out between them, companionable rather than awkward. If it weren’t for the fact that it was bloody freezing, Tracy could happily have hung out there with him all night. Ugh. She had it worse than she’d thought.
“You didn’t bring Becca with you today?”
“Nope,” he said curtly.
Touchy. That shouldn’t make her happy, but it did. “I’m sorry.” She tried to sound sincere, but knew she failed. “Last time we spoke, it sounded so promising.”
Ike sighed heavily. “Things didn’t work out the way I thought they would.”
Ignoring the way her heart leaped at his words, Tracy tried to analyze his tone. He sounded disappointed, rather than heartbroken. Had he been the one to end things? “I thought you were getting on really well.”
“We were, but as friends rather than anything more.”
As Ike explained what had happened and how there hadn’t been any physical spark between them, Tracy felt her chest lighten.
She told herself to calm down. Just because things hadn’t worked out with Becca didn’t mean Tracy got another chance. Ike had probably had enough of women and dating after the past few weeks. Anyway, she still owed him one more introduction, according to their agreement.
Stuff that. “That’s a shame.”
Ike shrugged. “It is what it is.”
“That’s profound.” Tracy nudged him teasingly with her elbow.
“It’s a goaltender thing.” He nudged her back. “We’re deep thinkers—philosophers of the ice.”
“Is that what they call it? I thought it was a two-syllable word beginning with bull.”
“If the manure fits...” Ike’s laugh sounded rusty.
“So why are you leaving early?”
“I’m tired. You can have too much of a good thing.”
Tracy understood. “It can get a little intense over the holidays.”
A gust of wind cut through the open jacket, chilling her. As nice as this was, she had to go somewhere warmer.
“Thanks for the loan.” She slipped his coat off her shoulders and handed it back to him. “Put this on, tough guy, before you catch your deat
h of cold. It’s no good following the rules about your arm if you catch pneumonia.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He put on the coat, but didn’t zip it up. “Enjoy the rest of the party.”
“I will.” Only a little lie.
Ike walked her to the back door, then reached past her to hold the screen door open. “I’ll see you on New Year’s Eve at Mom’s.”
She couldn’t wait. “I’ll be there. In the meantime, merry Christmas.”
As she turned to go, Ike stopped her. “Hold up. You’ve forgotten something.”
“What’s that?”
He nodded to something above her head. “A Christmas tradition. It would be bad luck to ignore it.”
Her heart skipped as she looked up and saw the bunch of mistletoe attached to the lamp. “Oh. Yes.” She swallowed. “Neither of us needs to start the new year with bad luck.”
She reached up, only planning to kiss him lightly. But what started as a simple buss became more as his lips lingered against hers.
She drew back slightly, her gaze lifting to meet his. The passion burning in his green eyes made her catch her breath.
He wanted her. Really wanted her.
As much as she wanted him.
Ike shut the screen door firmly, without breaking the connection.
Tracy watched his head move lower as his lips descended inch by inch to meet hers. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she waited for his kiss.
At the first touch, fire shot through her.
As his tongue parted her lips, her nipples hardened but her knees turned to jelly.
She wound her arms around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair, pressing his head, his mouth, closer still. A half step forward and her body was against his.
Ike pulled the sides of the jacket around her, then wrapped his arms around her back. Even through their clothes, his heat seared her skin. He deepened the kiss until every cell in her body tingled.
She wasn’t cold anymore. The opposite. Too warm.
She didn’t care. She was where she wanted to be. In Ike’s arms.
