Complications on Ice - S.R. Grey

by Grey, S. R.

“I know, I know. That’s not the issue. I just don’t want to take advantage.”

  Mom assured me, “You’re not taking advantage, sweetheart. You’d be doing me a favor. I love spending time with my granddaughter. So go, have fun.” She touched my shoulder lightly. “Maybe someone nice will be seated next to you.”

  Did she mean a guy? I rolled my eyes.

  “Mom, I’m not going to the game to find a boyfriend.”

  Or was I? Benny would be there, right? And I sure liked him. What if I somehow ran into him? What if we hit it off?

  Stop, Eliza. Dad would never let that happen.

  “I know, honey.” Mom replied. “I didn’t mean a man. I was thinking maybe you’d meet a new friend.”

  “Because that’s so easy to do,” I murmured sarcastically, already jaded at twenty-one.

  “Eliza, really…” Another Mom head-shake, and then, “You have to try a little here.”

  She was right. I wanted my life out here in Vegas to be about more than Ava and school. At least, I thought I did. Making friends could complicate things, though. I had a secret I had promised to keep…to that guy.

  I hated that I’d agreed to Ava’s father’s restrictive terms. Keeping quiet about him had led to keeping secrets in general. Really, what was I even thinking? Better to stay on the sidelines of life. There was no reason to go to this game. There’d be no Benny Perry in my life. There’d be no new friends.

  “I should just stay home,” I murmured dejectedly.

  “Oh, honey, please reconsider. You really need a night out.”

  It took some more convincing on her part, but I finally gave in. “Okay, okay, you’re right. A night out might do me some good.”

  “That’s the spirit, Eliza. So you’ll go to the game?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’ll be sure to have fun?”

  “I’ll try, Mom.”

  She was beaming by that point, but taking into account my dad’s stance on me and hockey players I figured it was wise to ask, “Are you absolutely sure Dad’s okay with this?”

  “He’s the one who got you the ticket, Eliza.”

  “Wow.”

  I was beyond surprised. If my overprotective father was putting aside his commitment to keep me away from his players, I really must be a mess.

  He was waving the white flag, calling a truce, so I would, as well. I wouldn’t push things. I’d simply watch and admire Benny Perry from up in the stands. I would not actively try to meet him. Again I told myself I’d go to the game and come straight home. No detours to the locker room area or anywhere where I might run into a player. I had access because of who my dad was, but I wouldn’t use it. The temptation might be too much if I actually met Benny. I could want to touch him, maybe do other things to him, and with him.

  No!

  But I sure could look.

  And look I did that night. Before the first puck was dropped, I searched the ice for number twenty-nine.

  I found him over by the bench, taking off his helmet to adjust a strap or something.

  God, even from afar, he was much more stunning in person. His shoulders and chest were crazy-wide. And his legs, those things were damn tree trunks.

  I sighed. I had a major weakness for big guys. I loved how they could make me feel so much smaller than my five feet one inches of height, especially when I was under one.

  A little shiver ran down my spine, and I was suddenly more into Benny than ever.

  He wasn’t just fun to look at, though. He was a great player and had real personality on the ice.

  I liked how he took chances. And I loved that he taunted the opposing team’s players mercilessly.

  One guy got so fed up that he tried to punch Benny in the face.

  “Oh, no,” I gasped. “Don’t you dare mess with that amazing bone structure.”

  That earned me a few curious glances…and a giggle from the girl next to me.

  “He’s a hottie, right?” I said to her.

  Wow, I was really coming out of my shell. Mom would be proud.

  The girl next to me agreed, “He is really cute.”

  She was about my age, and though stunning in the looks department, seemed really approachable. I was about to try and engage in more conversation with her, but my attention was drawn back to the ice when the wannabe-face-marring player stopped on his way to the penalty box and started yapping at Benny.

  I could read Benny’s lips as he said, “Anytime, fucker.”

  Designated “fucker” went at Benny again, but one of the linesmen grabbed him and ushered him away.

  When the official’s back was fully turned, Benny shot “fucker” the finger, along with a big grin.

  I laughed, and so did my seat neighbor. I could’ve watched Benny all night, even when he wasn’t on the ice. But the game itself was pretty exciting and fun. Something I was reminded of every time the girl next to me stood to holler or cheer.

  I suddenly wanted Mom to be right—I wanted to become friends with this hockey-loving girl.

  God, I was such a nerd.

  Later on in the game, during the third period to be specific, the seeds of a friendship were finally sown when the right winger on Benny’s line, some dude named Nolan Solvenson, scored a sweet goal that put the Wolves up by one.

  That’s when my seat neighbor went just about nuts.

  “Oh my God,” she squealed, turning to me excitedly. “I think we’re definitely going to win this one.”

  I nodded and agreed, “I think so, too.”

  She held out her hand. “I’m Lainey, by the way.”

  She seemed so confident, and I could see why. She was a true beauty, what with her shiny mahogany hair and cool turquoise eyes.

  “I’m Eliza,” I replied, suddenly feeling a little awkward and shy.

  My own confidence only went so far, so good thing Lainey had self-assurance for the both of us.

  “I totally should’ve introduced myself earlier,” she went on, totally at ease, “seeing as we’ve been sharing space all night.”

  “Aw, that’s okay. The game’s been really engrossing.”

  “It has,” she agreed. And then she asked, “Are you here all alone?”

  I didn’t read anything into her question, but began to wonder what-the-heck when she burst into laughter.

  “Oh, crap, what you must think,” she said, blushing. “I swear I didn’t mean that as a come-on. For real, I’m not trying to pick you up or anything.”

  I laughed. This was definitely a girl after my own heart. I needed to let her know there was no need to apologize, as I was far from uptight.

  “I wouldn’t have cared if you were,” I replied, shrugging. “You’re very pretty, so if I did swing that way, I’d definitely let you.”

  We both started laughing at that one, and our friendship was born.

  “Still, let me explain,” she went on. “What I was trying to ask was, since you’re here all alone, is it because you know someone on the team…or are you just a totally rabid Wolves fan.”

  Hmm, which one is she?

  “I’m not here for anyone,” I replied. “And I don’t know about the rabid part, but I’m definitely a Wolves fan.” I paused. “I kind of have to be these days.”

  That piqued her interest. “Why’s that?” she inquired.

  “Coach Townsend is my dad.”

  “Oh, wow, no way. Coach T seems like a really nice guy. He’s a great coach, that’s for sure.”

  She peered over at the bench, and I followed her gaze. My dad was taking advantage of a time-out the other team had called and was barking out some last-minute instructions to his players.

  They were listening intently, and I realized then that my dad really was an amazing man. He was worthy of my respect, even if he did drive me nuts on occasion.

  “So they say,” I murmured.

  And then, I guess because I hadn’t had anyone to talk to in what seemed like forever, I began over sharing.

  “Th
is is all kind of new to me,” I blathered. “Watching a Wolves game, that is. Last season I missed most of them, except for the ones that were broadcast nationally.”

  Lainey looked utterly confused. “Were you living somewhere else?”

  “I was.”

  I paused, wondering if I should go on. What if I said too much? That wouldn’t be good.

  I tried to wrap things up by simply stating, “I was away at college.”

  That didn’t kill the subject like I hoped it would. Nope. Lainey’s questions kept on coming. Not for any nefarious reason, the poor girl was just trying to make conversation.

  “Oh, yeah, which school?” she asked.

  I sighed. “Georgetown. You know, in DC.”

  She looked impressed, and I guess she was since she then said, “Wow, that’s a really good school.”

  “Yeah, it is. I liked going there.”

  A feeling of wistfulness came over me, and I looked away.

  Quietly, she said, “Did you graduate? Is that why you’re back in Las Vegas?”

  Oh, crap, I should steer away from this topic now.

  But did I?

  No.

  I suddenly and inexplicably began sharing even more. Go figure. I rambled on about school…and where I was now…and finally wrapped it up with this stupid explanation for coming back: “I really missed the warm weather.”

  Oh, Eliza, what a lame excuse for changing schools.

  I couldn’t tell her anything more or too much would come out, so I switched the focus from me to her.

  “Are you in school?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No. I graduated this past spring.”

  “Oh, yeah? From where?”

  “University of Minnesota.”

  “Wow, that’s a long way away. Did you find a job out here? Is that what brought you to our sunny little mecca?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I wish. I did find a job recently, but it’s nothing career-related.”

  “What kind of job is it?” I inquired, genuinely curious.

  “I’m cocktail waitressing at one of the casinos.”

  “Ah.”

  She gave me a commiserating look, and I knew then that we were destined to become friends. We were too much alike. Neither one of us had this life thing figured out.

  She shared with me then that she was living with her sister and her sister’s fiancé.

  “But that was never my plan” She sighed. “I was living with my parents for awhile when I was looking for a job back east. They were driving me crazy, though, so I had to get out of there.”

  “I know the feeling,” I murmured. “Parents have a way of doing that.”

  We sighed in unison, then I asked, “So your sister and her fiancé… Are they big hockey fans, too?”

  Smiling like she had a secret and it was a good one—see, a girl after my own heart—she said, “You could say that. It was my sister’s fiancé who got me the ticket for the game tonight.”

  “Well, it’s a really good seat,” I mused. “So your ticket procurer is either a player…or someone high up in management.”

  “He’s not in management,” she slyly retorted.

  “He’s a player, then?”

  The action picked up on the ice, and caught up in the game once more, we tabled that discussion.

  As we watched the players skate from one end of the ice to the other, I remarked, “Wow, the game’s really opening up.”

  “It sure is,” Lainey agreed, her eyes glued to the ice.

  Though the lines were changing fast, and players from both sides were out for short shifts only, Lainey seemed zoned in on one player in particular—Nolan Solvenson.

  Maybe that’s her sister’s fiancé?

  I was about to guess he was the ticket-giver, but then I recalled that Nolan was supposedly unattached.

  Oh, hell. Instead of speculating, I just flat-out asked, “So who’s your sister’s fiancé? Is he out there on the ice right now?”

  It seemed he was, as she pointed to the captain of the team, centerman Brent Oliver.

  “She’s engaged to that guy right there,” she stated proudly.

  “No way.”

  The puck careened to Brent at that exact second, and as it landed on his stick he flicked it into the other team’s empty net, prompting me to add, “I can’t believe your sister’s engaged to freaking Brent Oliver.”

  The whole time I’d been talking with Lainey there’d been something familiar about her. And I suddenly knew what it was.

  “Wait a second.” I turned to her. “I know who you are. I’ve seen you in pictures. You’re Brent’s fiancée Aubrey’s little sister, right?”

  “I am.”

  “I see the resemblance now,” I continued. “It’s uncanny, actually.”

  She laughed softly. “We hear that a lot.”

  The game came to an end—with a Wolves victory, yay!—and since I’d promised my mom I’d come straight home, I stood, set to leave.

  I couldn’t help but hesitate, though. I hated that the game was over and my time with Lainey was done for good.

  But did it have to be?

  No.

  I wanted to stay in touch, so I said, “Hey, I really have to get going, but—”

  A guy behind Lainey asked her a question then, and when she turned back to me I lost my nerve and decided to just wrap things up.

  “It was really fun talking with you, Lainey.” I started to turn away. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

  She called out my name and I spun back around. “Yeah?”

  “Hey, if you don’t have anywhere you need to be, you’re more than welcome to join me in the family lounge. I drove in with Brent and he’s my ride home, so I have to wait for him in there. Otherwise, I’d suggest something else, something more fun. Still, we can make it fun. I’m sure Brent will be tied up for a while. The media will want to interview him about that goal at the end of the game.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “I’m sure they will.”

  “So what do you think? Are you, Eliza Townsend, up for the challenge of drinking all the free coffee in the lounge?”

  She looked fun and devious, like she had a bigger plan at hand.

  Ugh, I wanted to say yes, but I couldn’t.

  “We’ll be right next to the locker room,” she added, sweetening the pot. “That means if we position ourselves just right by the door, there’s a good chance a half-naked player will walk by and we’ll see more than we should.”

  She winked, and oh, how I wanted to say I’d go. I mean, crap, Benny could be the half-naked player strolling by.

  Tempting as it was, there was just no way. I had to get home to relieve my mom from babysitting duty. Plus, I really wanted to see Ava.

  And then there was my dad…

  Sighing, I said, “I’d really love to hang with you, Lainey. Seriously, I would. I mean, shit, who wouldn’t be up for admiring hot hockey player butts, right?”

  “We could even rate them,” she interjected, brow raised.

  “Tempting,” I replied. And it was.

  Scrunching up her face, she suddenly amended, “Maybe I won’t rate Brent’s ass, though. That would be too weird.”

  I laughed. She was funny, and I wanted to hang with her. I was even willing to take a chance with my dad. But I’d promised my mom, and I couldn’t fuck her over.

  “Another time?” I threw out.

  “Sure.”

  We talked a few minutes more, and then I readied to take off. “Well, like I said, it was great meeting you.”

  “Yeah. You, too, Eliza.”

  I took out my phone. “Do you want to exchange numbers before I go? We could do something fun some other time. Player butt ogling, or anything, really.”

  Lainey smiled, and we exchanged info.

  I left happy with how the night had turned out.

  I’d have to thank my mom. Not only had I met a new friend, but, more than ever, I was feeling like my old self.
>
  “Benny Perry, you better watch out,” I murmured.

  I wanted to meet him, and I was going to meet him.

  Nothing could stop me now.

  That’ll Fix Coach

  My head was in a better place once the season officially began. I was staying away from puck bunnies—well, for the most part—and not even eating that many donuts. Needless to say, I was proud of my progress.

  I was also scoring like crazy. But I swear it was like Coach Townsend had it out for me. And that, my friends, was bullshit.

  As long as you didn’t count my womanizing—which, as established, I’d cut way the fuck back on—I hadn’t done anything to deserve his wrath. Save for sneaking in a donut or two every few days. But with the way we worked out, a few extra calories shouldn’t matter. I was where I was supposed to be weight-wise, anyway.

  Well, more or less. I had gained one pound.

  Maybe that was what had Coach T all up in my grill one morning after practice.

  “Your concentration is off and your work ethic is for shit, Perry,” he barked as he sidled up to me, like, real close. “You need to think about the stick in your hand a little more than the one in your pants,” he hissed.

  Oh, so it wasn’t the extra pound that had him all wound up. He must’ve heard about a recent conquest of mine. How he always found out about this shit was beyond me. But singling me out, while other guys on the team did the exact same thing, was screwed up.

  The more I thought about it, the angrier I got.

  When Coach skated away, I made the mistake of smacking my stick on the ice and mumbling a very loud, “This shit is fucked up.”

  Coach T heard me, of course, and was back in my face in a heartbeat. “I hope you’re happy, Perry,” he yelled. “You just earned your smartass self and the rest of the team an extra half hour of drills this morning.”

  My teammates, some of who were already off the ice, grumbled as they turned around and skated back on. No one held it against me, though. After we finished with the extra drills and were convened back in the locker room, the usual ribbing commenced.

  Dylan Culderway, a premier defenseman on our team, kicked things off by making a joke about how I better keep my horny self far away from Coach’s daughter.

  “I heard she’s back in town,” Dylan said.