by Jordan Ford
He raises his bushy eyebrows at me. “Afternoon.”
“Hi.” I nod and start messing around with the puck at my feet, tapping it back and forth with my stick.
It’s kind of awkward having him studying me like this. But the guy’s not going anywhere.
I clear my throat and look him in the eye again. “Is there something you want to say to me?”
He grins, the lines around his eyes bunching even more. “You’ve been here every day for nearly a week.”
“So?” I sound a little defensive, but caution’s ringing a soft alarm in the back of my mind.
“And you’ve been having dinner in my bar every night.”
“Is there something wrong with that?” I’m not supposed to trust anyone…and conversations like this could be dangerous. I skate to the edge of the rink, ready to take my leave, but the guy stops me with a quiet observation.
“You’ve got skills on the ice.”
I shrug. “Yeah.”
“How long you been playing?”
“Long enough.” I reach the gate and rest my hand on the top. I glance back in time to see his eyebrows rise. He’s asking for more, so I give him a safe amount. “I was a starting player for my school team three years running. I’ve been skating since I was five.”
“You looking to join a team?”
The idea sparks in my chest and I want to nod like an excited puppy. But there’s no way I can do that, so I give a small head shake. Besides, I can’t imagine playing with anyone other than Trey and Riley.
“Pity,” he murmurs.
I frown, curiosity getting the better of me. “Who are you?”
“Keith Truman. I own this place, and the bar next door.” He points over his shoulder. “I’m looking for another player for our Saturday afternoon social games.”
I tip my head, trying to hide how tempting that offer is.
“Had a guy quit just yesterday. Left wing.”
Damn, that’s my position. I can’t stop my eyebrow from rising.
He grins. “He also happened to look after the rink and do general maintenance around the place. You don’t happen to know how to drive a Zamboni, do ya?”
I don’t, but how hard can it be?
I hitch my shoulder. “Maybe.”
“Where you from?”
“Nowhere in particular.” I scratch my jawline and look to the ice. “I’m just traveling around. Checking out the country.”
“You in Reno for a while?”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “You offering me a job?”
“Maybe.” He grins.
My lips twitch. It’s kind of hard not to like this guy.
“Look, I don’t know why, but strays seem to be attracted to my place like one of those damn insect lights. So far, none of them have let me down. They come through, work for a while, then move on. It just seems to be the way it is. I’ve had everything from people who’ve been laid off and looking for new work, to students from overseas.” He looks around the rink, his love of the place obvious. “I just need someone to look after the place. Make sure the ice is ready to go every night before the new day begins, monitor the booth during public times, keep the locker rooms clean and tidy. Do any fix-up jobs in the bar if I need some help. You think you could manage something like that?”
I can’t help a little frown. “Why do you think I’m the guy for the job? You don’t even know me.”
“You come in here every day to skate. You leave money on the counter even when it’s unmanned. You obviously know your way around a hockey rink, and you look strong and capable to me. Because you’re here so much, I figure you don’t already have a job, and you don’t seem to be moving on either. So, if you’re after a short-term position, I can offer you one. I’ll pay you cash. It won’t be much, but I can throw in one free meal every day you work.”
It’s tempting. It’d be a great way to get a little more cash before moving on to wherever the hell I’m going.
“You interested?”
I shouldn’t be. Riley told me to keep moving…and he’s right. I shouldn’t be settling in anywhere.
The door clicks open behind us and we both turn to spot Pretty Girl walking into the rink. She glances at Keith and gives him a sweet smile.
Then she spots me.
Her smile disappears.
“Hey, Jules.” Keith’s grin is big and affectionate.
Her eyes light in spite of her frown. “Hi, Keith.” She tucks a loose lock of hair behind her ear and walks to the bleachers.
We both watch her, Keith filling me in as she finds a seat. “Eats all of her meals in this place. I have no idea why. I guess it’s a nice break from the kitchen.”
“She a chef or something?”
“She’s actually the chef’s assistant, but he showed up late last night and she ended up filling in.” Keith’s smile grew. “Best food we’ve had in months. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m about to go and offer her the chance to cook a little more often. Figure she could use the pay raise. She sure as heck deserves it. Never met such a hard worker before.” His voice drops to a soft murmur. “I hope she sticks around for a while. She’s got to be one of the sweetest girls I’ve ever met. She’s quiet, and I don’t know much about her, but if her work ethic is anything to go by…”
I glance over my shoulder and notice Jules take a sandwich out of the paper bag she was carrying. Her eyes dart to me, then swiftly look away.
“So, she’ll be cooking my daily meal?”
Keith snickers. “Most likely, but don’t be taking this job because of her. I won’t tolerate some flirt-a-thon so you can score yourself a lady. I just need a hard worker who loves the ice and can look after this place.”
I purse my lips and look down at my skates.
“You interested or not?”
Turning my back on Jules, I face the older guy and answer before I can stop myself. “Yeah. I’m interested.”
“Great.” His smile grows to full beam, showing me a row of narrow white teeth. His front ones are slightly crossed over but it doesn’t detract from his smile. “I’ll show you around and tell you how everything works.”
“Sounds good.” Riley’s warning flickers through the back of my mind but I push it aside, too tempted by this experience. This Keith guy seems nice. He’s the first guy I’ve really spoken to since leaving Trey and Riley. Plus he loves hockey. There’s nothing wrong with scoring a little extra cash before leaving Reno.
Skating for the gate, I glance back and spot Jules again. She jerks and looks away. I can’t help a little grin. Oh yeah, she was watching me. I guess I’m not the only curious one.
#9:
Handsome Jock Syndrome
Julienne
His name’s Karl.
He’s been working here just over a week.
We haven’t said more than a couple of hellos to each other, mostly because I’m avoiding him like he’s carrying a contagious disease.
He is.
It’s called Handsome Jock Syndrome, and it’s lethal for pathetic girls like me.
I’m so annoyed with myself. I don’t want to be attracted to him at all. I’m pregnant with Antonio’s kid! I’m currently in hiding so I can safely have the baby and give it away. The last thing I need is an attraction to some strange guy who has sex with random blonde chicks in the back of their cars!
Rubbing my forehead, I brush past Karl, refusing to respond to his smile. I can feel his eyes on me as I hustle to the kitchen. He’s probably checking out my ass.
Jerk.
I really have to fight the urge to turn around. He’s wearing a tight T-shirt, a tool belt, faded jeans, and these brown work boots. Fixing a couple of wobbly barstools is not supposed to be that sexy. I push the kitchen door open and steal a quick glance. His bicep flexes as he twists the screwdriver. He’s so tall and masculine. And that stubby ponytail.
I bite my lip as a hot flush washes through me.
Pregnancy hormones are so not helping. I
read last night that pregnant women can be extra horny. Great. Just what I need.
In saying that, it was a comfort to read. It made me feel slightly less stupid for my intense attraction to this guy. It’s just my body behaving out of character. I’m not a hopeless case. As soon as this passes, Karl will be easy to ignore.
At least that’s what I’m hoping.
I tie on my apron and start prep for lunch and dinner service. Chef Austin hasn’t even started yet. I’m usually early, and I think he kind of likes that about me. Grabbing the sack of potatoes, I grunt as I heave it onto the steel counter. A pain twinges my back and I wince, rubbing the spot and reminding myself that I shouldn’t be hoisting heavy stuff around.
Out of nowhere tears sting. I close my eyes and fight the wave of vulnerability that captures me at the most bizarre moments.
I’m pregnant, living in a garage and hiding from my baby’s father…because he wants to kill it.
This whole situation is insane!
“Hello?” A male voice calls through the serving window.
My eyes snap open. With a quick sniff, I brush my cheeks and spin, forcing a pleasant smile.
It quickly drops away when I notice it’s Karl with his chiseled face and man ponytail. They should be outlawed.
My eyes dart to the floor. “Can I help you?”
“It’s Jules, right?”
I look up in time to see him pointing at me. His teeth are white and straight, his eyes the bluest I’ve ever seen.
I bob my head.
“I’m Karl.”
“I know.”
His eyebrows rise like he’s expecting more, but I can’t think of anything to say so I look down to my white canvas sneakers.
“Do you mind if I come in and grab a glass of water?”
“I’ll get one for you.” The thought of him swaggering into my domain makes my stomach erupt with butterflies. Snatching a glass off the shelf, I fill it with tap water and pass it back to him.
My fingers are shaking.
Clenching my teeth, I force a closed-mouth smile before managing to ask, “Anything else?”
“I’ll let you know.” He winks, making my knees want to buckle.
Pull yourself together, you stupid girl!
I turn my back on him, trying not to notice the way his Adam’s apple moves while he gulps down the water.
I grab the potato peeler and get busy. Keith likes freshly made steak fries. It may take a while to prepare but they are so much better than the frozen packet ones, and he swears it’s the reason people keep coming back.
Peeling potatoes is my least favorite job, but it keeps me busy.
A glass touches down on the counter and I force myself not to look.
“Thanks for that.” His voice is so smooth.
“You’re welcome.” I refuse to glance in his direction.
His soft snicker entices me, but I hold strong.
“I’ll catch you after the game, Jules.”
I nod, my throat too thick to speak. I don’t care that my name sounds a thousand times better coming out of his mouth. He said it like a whisper. Like he just tasted chocolate and wanted to savor it.
Giving my head a sharp shake, I dig into the potato and, thanks to a serious lack in concentration, manage to slice the top of my finger.
I gasp. Blood soaks into the white potato. Dropping it into the sink, I flick on the faucet and hiss while rinsing out the wound. Wrapping my apron around it, I race to the back of the pantry to dig out the first aid kit.
Of course it’s on the top shelf.
With a huff, I walk back into the kitchen to grab a stool and find Karl at the window again.
He grins. “Hey, I was just—” His voice cuts off, his eyes bulging slightly. “What happened?”
My forehead wrinkles. “Nothing.”
“You’re bleeding.”
I glance down at my hand. A red stain is forming on my white apron. This is so humiliating. I cut myself because I was dodging thoughts of him and now he’s walking through the kitchen door, worried about me.
He stops by my side and reaches for my hand. “Let me have a look.”
“I’m fine.” I swivel out of his reach and walk to the stool, dragging it across to the pantry.
“Can I reach something for you?”
I look over my shoulder.
He’s standing there with his hands in his pockets, an amused smile on his face while I haul the stool across to the pantry.
“I’m—”
“Fine.” He’s in my space again, grinning down at me. “Yeah, I know you are.”
Stretching up, he grabs the first aid kit off the top shelf. His chest is practically brushing my cheek as he reaches past me.
I look down at his work boots but of course my eyes travel up his powerful legs, stirring my insides. I squeeze my wounded finger. Hard. It stings enough to make me move.
Stepping aside, I give him space to set the box down. He flips it open and starts hunting for a bandage.
“I can do it.”
He ignores me, pulling out a special finger bandage and unwrapping it. “Let me see.”
I sigh and am forced to relent.
Pain is making my finger quiver slightly. I hold it up and he gently takes it. His fingers are long, his nails short.
He studies the wound with a small grimace. “Ouch.”
“It’s not that bad,” I whisper.
Why is my voice so quiet?
“Still looks like it hurts.” He smirks, concentrating on getting the Band-Aid right. “Any rubber gloves around here?”
I nod.
“You might want to wear one while you work today. That’s what they do on Master Chef, anyway.” He winks.
“Okay,” I croak.
Why am I croaking?
He’s just a guy. A tall handsome one.
But…
He’s trouble, and I’ve got enough of that in my life.
Reclaiming my hand, I get busy putting the first aid kit away. “Thanks for your help.”
“Anytime.” He winks again. “I’m always available to help a pretty lady.”
Okay, that’s just a little too smooth.
I roll my eyes, not finding it hard to look unimpressed. Thankfully I didn’t giggle the way I did when Antonio tried that kind of thing with me. I’ve learned my lesson…sort of.
Karl snickers, the sound making my stomach tremble.
“I take it you’re not impressed that I think you’re beautiful.”
“I take it you try that line with every girl you think you can woo into the backseat of a car.”
He hisses, digging his hands into his pockets, but he can’t stop his lips from twitching. His gaze is playful when he murmurs, “That was a decent burn, Pretty Girl. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“You don’t know anything about me, and I’m happy to keep it that way.”
I hold the kit out to him and nod my head at the pantry, silently asking him to put it away. I don’t know what the heck is making me so ballsy all of a sudden. Maybe it’s because I don’t think he’ll get annoyed if I speak my mind.
He puts the kit away and I move back to the safety of the potatoes. I sense him wanting to approach again but he stops a couple of feet from me.
“Well, as much as I love playing Dr. Karl, I better get back to work.”
My chest deflates with relief.
“I’ll look forward to dinner tonight.”
And then he shows off that smirk of his. My entire body ignites and then tenses as he takes the route right past me to get out of the kitchen. His arm brushes my back and then he’s gone.
I pull on a rubber glove to protect my throbbing finger. Picking up the blood-stained potato, I throw it in the trash and reach for a new one.
“Just peel, Jules. Just. Peel.” I grab the peeler and get to work, stopping briefly to turn on the stereo in an attempt to drown out the nagging voice in my head.
You’re pregnant. You’re
alone. Good guys don’t exist. Even if they do call you Pretty Girl and wrap a Band-Aid on your finger, that doesn’t make them trustworthy.
#10:
Left For Dead
Kade
There’s less than a minute left in the game. It’s all tied up and I don’t want to be skating off the ice this way. Swerving into the center, I head for the guy in red, tracking the puck as he guides it down the ice. One quick slip and it’s heading straight for me. I grab it with my stick and make a break for the opposite goal. Cheers and shouts crescendo from the stands as I speed at the goalie. My stick moves like lightning. I execute a quick triple deke, something I’ve been practicing since watching Mighty Ducks when I was ten years old. The goalie lunges right and I flick the puck into the left corner.
Score for the win!
I raise my stick in the air and whoop, circling around the goal and crashing into Scott.
“Nice play, man!” he yells in my ear as the crowd cheers. Considering the place is only half full, they’re making a decent amount of noise.
A camera flashes to my right.
“Boys!” Scott and I spin, laughing at the camera with our arms in the air. “Helmets off. Let me get a decent shot.”
We do as we’re told, our smiles growing as the rest of the team crowds around me.
A few fans line up along the railing and hold their phones up.
We don’t care. We stand there posing like idiots, high on our win.
“Nice work, newbie,” one of them yells. “You’re a sensation.”
A girl down the line cheers. “Yeah you are!”
“Thanks.” My smile’s so big my face hurts, but I don’t care. I just won the game for the Skate Home Flyers…and they love me for it.
Hands slap my back and shoulders. The girl on the side of the rink is giggling and smiling at me. I wink at her but find my eyes traveling into the crowd. I don’t even know what I’m looking for until I spot Jules in the top row. She’s inching across to the stairs, this sweet smile on her face as she says, “Excuse me” and “Thank you” to each person. Tucking her long, dark hair behind her ears, she bobs down the steps. I keep my eyes on her as my teammates holler and laugh in my face. One scruffs up my hair but still I don’t look away.
