Accepting his assistance, she stepped out of the low-slung luxury seat and stood beside him. “Game tomorrow, right?”
He nodded. “And we have a morning pre-game skate. Are you still up for coming to the game?”
She bobbed her head in the affirmative. “I think I could learn to like all things ice-related.”
He took her by the elbow and guided her up the icy steps with deliberate slowness. “I’ll have an access pass for you at the will-call booth. You know where that is?”
“I’m sure I can find it. Are you excited for your first professional game?”
“Of course, but not as much as I am about knowing you’ll be there,” he said as they reached the landing, deploying his own signature smile. Flattery usually went a long way with classy women. He was rewarded with another display of her deliciously flushed cheeks. He reached out to toy with a lock of her long hair, like he’d wanted to do the first night he’d seen her. Another flashback made him let it go. He wouldn’t be making that mistake again, but he was reluctant to let the afternoon end. He looked upward and chuckled. “This is a really upscale building. I used to know someone who lived here, and I’m sure rent isn’t cheap. They must pay you well at the restaurant. Maybe I’m in the wrong business.”
“Oh, I don’t rent a place here. I’m staying with family.”
“Right. You said you were new in town. You know, I never asked where you’re from in Ohio. And I don’t even know your last name.”
Hannah smiled and tilted her head to the side. Too cute for words. “It’s Robertson. Hannah Robertson, and I’m from Columbus.”
“Robertson?” he said, sobering unintentionally. “That’s a coincidence – like your boss, Eloise?”
Hannah laughed. “More than a coincidence. Eloise is my sister.”
Chapter Eleven
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Her bloody sister? Ryder’s hands clenched and unclenched the heated steering wheel in agitation as he drove away. He didn’t see much of a resemblance. Hannah’s straight golden locks compared to El’s wavy brunette tresses, and her taller, slimmer frame both defied a family connection. And the face? Maybe a little around the nose and chin. Both were decidedly beautiful, but otherwise, seemed very different indeed.
But the capability of turning into Frosty the Snowman on a dime. Check.
While guarded at first, Hannah seemed optimistic and inquisitive whereas the straight-laced, opinionated Eloise rejected everything that didn’t conform to her ideals. Perhaps El just hadn’t had enough opportunity to soil the blank canvas of her sister’s life outlook just yet. Give it time, he thought bitterly.
Perhaps a second date was a bad idea. Eventually, Hannah would tell Eloise about him, and there were only two outcomes. Either El would pour poison in Hannah’s ear about him and make her ditch him, or Hannah would rebel and date him anyway. In that case, each minute they spent together would drive a wedge between the sisters and cause Eloise to unleash a shitstorm of destruction, with Ryder Martin at the epicenter.
Not a pleasant scenario. But then neither was her shrewish treatment of him earlier. It occurred to him that while Eloise built up to full charge, dating Hannah would irritate the hell out of her.
Serves her right, the imaginary evil angel cooed. You wouldn’t use Hannah that way, its counterpart cautioned.
True. He liked Hannah too much to pit her against her own sister. And he wanted to see her again if only to see where it would go. Maybe they’d both find that the chemistry abated in the age-old crash and burn, and things would peter out before Eloise got involved. If not, he’d consider Eloise’s discomfiture as a fringe benefit. At any rate, he had bigger things to concentrate on than women right now. Like his NHL debut tomorrow. Everything else had to be put on hold.
***
“Hanna-bee, it’s so good to hear from you,” Sophia said over the phone. “Have you seen Christina yet? I can hardly wait to hold her, snuggle her and inhale that baby fresh scent. That smell is like crack. I hope Phil and I can start a family soon too.”
“Hey, it’s Auntie Hannah now, get with the program!” Hannah laughed. “Yes, I’ve been to the hospital a couple times already. She’s gorgeous and doing well. Gaining weight and no sign of any other complications.”
“Thank goodness. I’m glad we live in a day and age where preemies are no longer at risk. El would have been heartbroken if anything went wrong with Christina. I know she’d feel like it was her fault. Even though you never let on, I’m sure she’s been overdoing it.”
“That’s El for you, taking responsibility for everything.” Hannah agreed. “Even me.”
“So, how’s the job going, do you like it? Is it weird working for your big sister, taking orders from her?”
“Nothing new about that, Soph. You know that as well as I do.”
Sophia laughed. “Right. She’s been the boss all along. How silly of me. How do you like living in Rochester? I hear it’s cold.”
Hannah smiled, ready to burst with excitement over the previous day and dying to spill the beans to someone. “Oh, you just have to embrace the cold here. Rochester is at its best in winter,” she quoted. “I’m even going to a hockey game tonight.”
“Wow, it must be cold in Minnesota. Hell has frozen over if you’re taking an interest in hockey,” Sophia teased. “I know. You’re dying to see Cole play.”
“Mmm, not so much Cole, but another hockey player.”
A pause. “Ohhh, so that’s it. Tell me, tell me, tell me!”
Words gushed forth from Hannah’s mouth, describing Ryder’s good looks, smoking hot body, how he’d taught her to skate, and of course, the kiss. The unfortunate events of the fundraiser had long since paled in her memory and been virtually forgotten. She left those details out of the conversation.
“He sounds wonderful, Hannah. I’m so happy that you’ve met someone. There’s nothing quite like a first kiss. I can’t wait to break the bad news to Russ,” she chuckled, a touch of good-natured malice in her tone. “I can’t wait to see the look on his face. In spite of the fact that I’m married to his brother, he still annoys me. He’s been asking about you. He even wants to come out there with Phil and me at Christmas.”
Hannah’s balloon of excitement deflated a little at the mention of Russ’s name. No – he wouldn’t dare come out here now, would he? He’d as good as told her off, not that she cared. Who did he think he was, insulting her and then thinking she’d give him a second chance? Not a snowball's chance in hell.
“Oh, are you guys able to come with Mom and Dad?” she asked, not wanting to say Russ’s name out loud. “You weren’t sure you could get away.”
“It’s still not for sure, but I’m working on it. Trying to get flights at this time of year isn’t easy.”
“Okay, I’ll tell Eloise. She’ll be thrilled to see you.”
Hannah disconnected the call and decided she wasn’t about to let the remote chance of Russell Pomeroy turning up on her doorstep ruin her good mood or her evening ahead.
Since Rochester Arena wasn’t far from the restaurant, Hannah decided to walk there after work and enjoy her newfound affinity for colder weather. Her lined, faux fur-trimmed pea coat had proven to be plenty warm for outdoors as well as inside ice rinks.
The arena building was hard to miss, its circular structure covering three square city blocks, the additions of a parking tower and Murphy’s Finest Whiskey Pub usurping even more space. From what Eloise had told her, these extensions had caused quite an uproar in the community during their construction. She found the main entrance and got directions to the will-call window. To her surprise, a uniformed usher arrived to escort her to a plush box seat about midway up the stadium bowl. She hadn’t expected a place of privilege but felt tickled to have such status because of Ryder.
The box contained four rows of six seats each, separated from the adjoining boxes by a half wall. Open railing in the front afforded a great view of the ice surface. She found her seat in the
first row and settled in, awestruck by the vast space and the throngs of people filling it. She didn’t realize the population of Rochester was even half that. Electronic ads raced around the perimeter of the rink in a strip of moving LED lights. The massive center clock hung from the cavernous roof above, TV images playing on all four sides above the scoreboard, its digital timer counting down to puck drop. Boy, did this town love its hockey. The atmosphere was nothing less than electric.
The box began to fill with more spectators, and the seat next to Hannah’s was soon taken by a lady wearing a fur coat. She absently wondered if it was real, as natural fur garments were rather frowned upon these days. As the woman and her friend sat down, Hannah couldn’t believe her eyes. She recognized that long mane of curly copper hair.
It belonged to Joe. Or rather, Josée.
The redhead stunner turned to her. “Hello,” she said with a polite nod.
“Hello,” Hannah echoed, nonplussed. Would ‘Joe’ recognize her from the party? She kind of hoped not, but guessed it didn’t really matter.
She returned her attention to the ice, where the Detroit Red Wings had already entered the rink and begun skating around. Music began to play, and the lights dimmed. A spotlight beamed down over an opening in the boards as the commentator’s voice came over the PA system. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your hometown Rochester Riot.”
She saw Shredder burst onto the ice first, followed by the rest of the team. The lights brightened, and the crowd’s roar reached deafening proportions as the players circled one end of the rink and took their positions, some filling the players’ bench and others lining up in formation at center ice. They were without their star forward tonight, since Cole had been excused from the game to be with Eloise and Christina. However, she didn’t see jersey number seven.
The referee dropped the puck, and though Hannah tried hard to follow its movement, she soon felt hopelessly ignorant of either the strategy of play or the rules of the game. The little rubber disc seemed invisible, the skater’s motions her only clue to its whereabouts. It did not help her confidence that ‘Joe’ talked a blue streak to her friend the entire time, waving and gesturing with her fur-coated arms. If Hannah understood any French, she might have picked up a little knowledge, but the endless stream of foreign chatter only served to irritate her. She hated feeling ignored and ignorant.
Suddenly, Joe shouted and pointed to the ice. Hannah looked down to see that jersey number seven had finally made an appearance. How did they decide who came out to play and who didn’t? She shook her head, wondering if she’d ever understand this complicated game, and realized that if she planned on having another date with Ryder, she had better learn fast.
“That’s the new player who won the contest,” Joe said in accented English, suddenly leaning toward her. “I’ve met him. He’s very handsome, non?”
Startled, Hannah turned her head. “How can you tell from up here, with that helmet on?”
Josée laughed and clapped her hands. “I’ve seen him close up. Very close up,” she said, elbowing her. “Maybe I ask him on a date after the game, so I can see him even closer.”
Hannah felt a slow burn ignite in her face, and not a girlish blush this time. Was Josée attracted to him? That didn’t make sense. Hadn’t Ryder beat her out for a spot on the team? Her mouth clamped shut, unable to think of any kind of response, and fixed her unseeing eyes back onto the rink. Ryder hadn’t suggested anything to her about after the game, and she hadn’t thought to ask. Was he the type to have more than one girl on the go at a time? The thought dripped down from her brain and congealed around her heart like a frost. With an extra chill, she remembered Spud calling him a ‘womanizer.’ Had he invited Josée here too? Was he hoping for a threesome?
A sudden howl from the crowd snapped her to attention. The Riot had scored. Josée jumped to her feet, yelling in French. The players circled around the net, then glided past the bench in celebration, high-fiving with their gloves, Ryder in the mix. Hannah applauded, but not quite with the fervor of the woman sitting next to her.
“Ry-der! Ry-der!” Josée chanted.
The commentator announced the goal. “Riot’s first goal, scored by number twenty-two, Ealon Jones… assisted by number seven, Ryder Martin!”
Hannah smiled, pleased at hearing Ryder’s name, but the excitement and anticipation she’d held when she’d walked into the building now turned into something else – a writhing nest of other, darker emotions. Doubt. Suspicion. Jealousy. She didn’t like the shadow being cast across her heart.
She decided not to stay until the end. If Ryder wanted to see her again, she wouldn’t be waiting at the dressing room doors. Especially if Miss French Fry would try to get there before she did. Hannah hissed in a ragged breath, taking all her anger with it, so the negative emotion settled in her gut. She wanted none of this. Fame and fortune belonged to Eloise and Cole. All she wanted was as simple life with a man who adored her.
She realized she hadn’t given Ryder her phone number, nor had he asked for it. He’d have no way to contact her even if he did want to meet up later. Her Ice Prince would just have to come to the Tower again and beg Rapunzel to let down her hair one more time. Except this time, she might cut it into a pixie before he arrived.
Chapter Twelve
Eloise looked tired but happy when Hannah arrived at the hospital to visit the next morning, little Christina snuggled in her arms. She greeted her with a hug and kiss. “How’s the littlest Fiorino doing today?”
“Christina’s doing great,” El answered. “You’ve caught us at bonding time; we get two hours each day. They say the physical contact helps speed development of her internal systems.”
“Only two hours a day? I can’t imagine. You must just ache to hold her round the clock,” Hannah said. “How are you and Cole managing?”
“I’m fine,” El said and kissed the baby’s head. “But I think my husband is going a little stir crazy. I knew he wanted to be at the game last night, although he insisted otherwise. He kept sneaking out to the lounge to catch it on TV.”
“Good thing they won then. He probably would have blamed himself for a tick mark in the L column.”
Eloise raised her eyebrows. “You watched the game? This Minnesota climate must be getting into your blood.”
“Um, yeah. I was actually at the game,” Hannah admitted.
“Really?” Eloise queried, looking more intrigued. “That’s extraordinary. What made you decide to go?”
Hannah looked askance for a moment, wondering how much she should say, given the uncertainty in her status with Ryder, then grinned back at Eloise. She’d keep the details vague, giving just enough to keep bulldog Eloise focused on her daughter and not her single sister. “A player invited me.”
“Aha. I knew you weren’t telling me the whole story about the fundraiser. You caught someone’s attention. Who is it?” El asked, looking excited for her.
“Well. He’s brand new to the team…” she began.
El’s lips pursed in thought when Christina suddenly started to fuss. “Oh, sweetheart, Mommy’s here,” Eloise soothed.
A nurse approached to take Christina back to the nursery. “Thank you, Margaret,” Eloise said and waved a tiny goodbye as Christina was wheeled away in her incubator unit with the nurse. She turned back to Hannah. “Now, say again. A new player to the team? We don’t have any new…” Eloise stopped short. Her brows knitted together in concern. “Oh, no. Not Ryder Martin. Tell me you don’t mean Ryder Martin.”
Hannah’s smile faded, puzzled by Eloise’s reaction. “Well, yes. I do mean Ryder. What’s wrong with that? He seems like a decent enough guy. Lord knows he had to sacrifice everything to make it to the NHL, including his pride.”
“Oh, honey,” Eloise shook her head, “don’t believe a word that comes out of his mouth. Stay as far away from him as you can. Please, I’m begging you. I can’t be worried about you too. Not now.”
“Why? How do you kno
w anything about him?”
“Because we worked together for years in the Riot front office, that’s how. Trust me, he’s not your type. And he’s my age, for heaven’s sake. He’s too old for you. Thirty, and you’re only twenty-three.”
“I think I can be the judge of who’s my type,” Hannah said, crossing her arms. “It was only a hockey game. Geez, El. He didn’t get down on one knee. Besides, I already decided I don’t want to see him again.”
El blew out a breath, looking somewhat relieved. “Well, good. Keep it that way.”
“Buon Giorno,” came a cheerful, earthy voice from the hallway. Both women turned to see Theresa enter the lounge, radiant as usual with her striking Mediterranean features and impeccable wardrobe. A grand lady by any standard. “How are you ladies today? Hannah, so good to see you.”
“Hi, Mrs. Fiorino.”
“Ah, there’s two of those in the room,” she replied with a grin. “Where is my little granddaughter?”
“They’ve just taken her back to the nursery. We can go there if you want.”
Theresa Fiorino sat down between the two women. “In a minute. For now, I’d love to just visit with the two of you.” She took Eloise’s hands in hers. “Things will never be the same now that you’re a mother. I think you already know that.”
“Of course,” El replied. “It’s a whole new world. I love her so very much. It’s a cellular kind of love.”
“Priorities change, and you won’t be able to do many of the things you used to do, at least not the same way. You always have the children to consider.”
“You mean like going out for the evening?” Hannah asked. “Don’t worry. El’s got a built-in babysitter. Me.”
Theresa tilted her dark head back and forth. “That’s one aspect, and I’m so glad she’ll have you to count on as long as you’re here. But you have your own path to follow, Hannah dear. Don’t let family obligations dull your youthful light.” She turned to El again. “Eloise, I know you’re a career woman. You may not be happy with just a mother’s role.”
The Rebound: A Rochester Riot Sports Romance Page 10
