Sugar and Ice (Rinkside in the Rockies Series Book 1)

by Aven Ellis

  Sugar and Ice

  AVEN ELLIS

  Sugar and Ice

  Copyright © 2016 Aven Ellis

  Cover Design by Becky Monson

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of the copyright owner. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  BOOKS BY AVEN ELLIS

  CONNECT WITH AVEN

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  EPILOGUE

  BOOKS BY AVEN ELLIS

  Connectivity

  Surviving The Rachel

  Chronicles of a Lincoln Park Fashionista

  Waiting For Prince Harry (Dallas Demons #1)

  The Definition of Icing (Dallas Demons #2)

  Breakout (Dallas Demons #3)

  On Thin Ice (Dallas Demons #4)

  Playing Defense (Dallas Demons #5) Coming Soon

  The Aubrey Rules (Chicago on Ice #1)

  Trivial Pursuits (Chicago on Ice #2)

  Save the Date (Chicago on Ice #3) Coming soon

  Reality Blurred (Rinkside in the Rockies #2) Coming Soon

  CONNECT WITH AVEN

  Amazon Author Page

  Website

  Facebook Page

  Twitter

  For Heidi and Angie

  Heidi-Thank you for sharing your world with me. I value our friendship so much!

  Angie-Thank you for being such a great friend. I’m truly blessed.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to Becky Monson for believing in this journey to write a new hockey series. I’m forever grateful for your belief in me and the way I tell a story. Thank you for being such a wonderful and supportive person in my life.

  CeCe Carroll, you did a brilliant job copy editing this book. Thank you for your dedication and guidance in taking my work to the next level.

  Thank you to my Beta Baes. Thank you for always giving me what I need, and not just with the writing process. Thank you for reassurance, for reading, for being a part of my life every day. None of these books happen with you.

  To Alexandra, my assistant. Thank you for being you on a daily basis and always being my calming center.

  To all my Lovelies-thank you for your endless support and cheerleading. This journey doesn’t happen without all of you.

  Amanda and Claudia-Your love, friendship and support is always a given. I love you so much!

  Thank you Karri Lynn and Ashley Barrett for graciously sharing your outdoor adventures with me and letting me use them for JoJo.

  Valerie Smith, my partner in crime in everything, thank you for sharing your food science expertise to help me create JoJo. Your patience with questions and detailed answers brought her passion to food for life. You are the best.

  Thank you Crystal Guthrie for sharing your professional baking knowledge. You were gracious with your time and answers, and I’m so grateful for your help.

  Lauren Linwood, thank you for always providing your thoughts and your feedback. You are the best.

  To Jaclyn Paz, thank you for reading my work, providing advice, and most of all, being my friend.

  To my Twinnie, Holly Martin- Thank you for always reading my work, offering suggestions, helping me be a better author. But it is your friendship I value about all else. I love you.

  Tanya Shelton, thank you for reading every word I’ve ever written. Your belief in me has been there from the first page you read. I’m so blessed to have you in my life!

  Thank you to Jennifer and Mary, who run the Aven Ellis reader group on Facebook (Kate, Skates, and Coffee Cakes.) You both are such amazing women with a passion for books. I love you ladies so much!

  And thank you to all my readers. None of this happens without your support. I’m truly blessed.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Today’s Purpose and Passion Statement:

  I, Josephine Camilla Rossi, will make the creamiest, most luxurious, cannoli cheesecake whipped up using only the finest ingredients. My work will be driven by my passion and love for baking, as well as by my nonna’s guiding hand. My purpose is to wow my hard-to-impress boss. If all goes as planned, this cheesecake will be the key to new opportunities in the future.

  ***

  I stare at today’s statement, which I have printed out and pinned to my vision board in the kitchen.

  My cheesecake will be lighter and fluffier than Nonna’s original recipe, thanks to my homemade ricotta. My batter will have a hint of amaretto and Madagascar bourbon vanilla. Each bite will have the taste of Guittard semisweet chocolate and the brightness of orange peel. When your fork hits the bottom, you’ll reach a pistachio crust that will bring the classic cannoli flavors together. The top will be covered with a luscious layer of piped whipped cream and adorned with three perfect mini cannoli pastries, artfully arranged in the center and sprinkled with candied orange peel.

  It will be show-stopping perfection, in appearance and taste.

  I’m determined that this cheesecake, the first cake I ever ate in my grandmother’s kitchen, the cake that changed my life and fueled my passion for baking when I was five years old, will finally get the attention of Ms. Angelique Whitmire-Hox, my editor at Bake It! magazine. I work in recipe testing for the magazine, but I have my eye on a development project. And I’m hoping this cheesecake will prove I’m ready for that task.

  Of course, I need to get to work right away if I’m going to have a cheesecake to present to her first thing on Monday morning, which happens to be, oh, tomorrow.

  I take one last look at my vision board, studying the items I’ve carefully pinned to it. There’s a photo of my nonna, who introduced me to baking when I was a child with a version of the cheesecake I’m baking tonight. There’s another photo, this one of Julia Child, whose books I devoured as a teenager, trying to cram all of her culinary wisdom into my brain. And there are magazine clippings of recipe ideas and cards with positive messages and inspirational quotes. Since my career is everything to me now, I will achieve my dreams by visualizing my success.

  Okay. Time to get going. I head d
own the hall and enter my room. I have the apartment to myself today, as my roommate and best friend, Sierra Crawford, is away with her boyfriend Jude this weekend.

  I slide open my closet door and grab my favorite thing to bake in: my white and navy striped T-shirt dress. I remove my jeans and tank top and tug the comfortable cotton dress over my body and then step into my navy, slip-on Converse sneakers.

  I move to the back of my bedroom door, where my vintage 40’s apron is hanging, and lift it off the hook. The worn checkered fabric has yellow pears and grape clusters with ruffle detailing. I love it. This apron was given to my nonna by the Rossi family and eventually passed down to me. It’s been in the family since World War II.

  I slip the fabric over my head and take a moment to let its history wash over me. All the meals lovingly prepared while wearing this apron. The good times and bad. The long forgotten fights and nights full of heart-warming laughter. The perfect pies, the second- servings, and the inevitable burnt batches. Every moment lived when a Rossi woman donned this apron, I can feel in my soul.

  I never bake at home without it.

  I move over to my dresser. My long hair needs to be pulled up for baking, so I work the dark brown strands into my signature braids and pile them up on top of my head. Once I have my hair up, I reach for a purple headscarf that coordinates with the grapes on my apron and twist it into a cute headband, which I secure around the front of my hair.

  I consider my reflection in the mirror. I love how unique my eyes are, such a dark brown they appear almost black. They stand out against the olive tone of my skin. I hated them as a little girl, along with my above average height, but I have come to appreciate both traits.

  My eyes move down the image of me appearing in the mirror, and I frown. My passion for baking combined with being dumped by the love of my life nine months ago has led to a net gain of ten pounds. The weight has settled around my hips and can no longer be denied.

  But fall is here. It’s a new season. And I will no longer shovel cheesecake in my mouth to try to forget Marco. I’ve learned you cannot eat away your feelings. Trust me, I’ve tried.

  In fact, I’m over men. I’m so clueless at picking them that I can’t be trusted. Why else would I have chosen a cheater who couldn’t stay faithful the second I moved to Denver?

  Ugh. Marco.

  Dumb Marco.

  Or is it dumb Josephine?

  Whatever.

  Marco IS dumb.

  And a liar.

  AND A BIG FAT CHEATER.

  So what if I’m ten pounds heavier? The extra weight can serve as man repellent for all I care. My favorite J Brand jeans no longer fit and that might need to be addressed, but it can wait until tomorrow.

  I clear my throat and head back toward the kitchen. My decision to give up men has a silver lining. I’ve refocused myself. Instead of thinking about stupid liars and cheats, I’ve shifted my attention to my baking career.

  I enter the tiny galley kitchen and begin preparing. I pick up my phone and swipe to my playlist, letting Hailee Steinfeld’s “Starving” fill the air around me. Ha! Music to make a cheesecake by if I ever heard it, I think. Except I’m not starving for a man’s attention.

  A slice of cannoli cheesecake, on the other hand? Yes, please.

  I set the oven to the appropriate temperature and retrieve the necessary ingredients. I take the crust I prepared this morning out of the fridge and place the pans on the counter. I made enough for two cheesecakes so I can pick the perfect one for Miss “I’m Not Impressed, Josephine.” Because of her, I’ve learned to always have a backup.

  Quickly, I fall into in the zone.

  I make the filling, tasting as I go. I blend. I grate. I fold. I take a moment to savor the scents in the air, from the fresh orange rind to the magnificent bourbon vanilla.

  Being a professional baker has given me an acute sense of smell, and elevated my ability to detect subtleties. I find I can no longer wear perfume or scented deodorant while I work because it interferes with my ability to smell and, therefore, properly blend. Being able to experience the full spectrum of these wonderful ingredients is pure bliss.

  I dip a spoon into the bowl and sample the batter. Success. I nailed it!

  If only Nonna were in Denver with me instead of back home in Chicago. I’ve taken her recipe to the next level, and I wish she could have a taste.

  I pour the mixture into the pistachio crusts then begin preparing a water bath so the cheesecakes don’t crack while baking. I fill a bright red, retro tea kettle, another Nonna hand-me-down, with water and place it on the range, and turn the burner on. I place each cheesecake in a pan and fill each pan up the side with hot water.

  Now it’s time to get these gorgeous babies into the oven.

  I open the oven door, expecting to feel the usual rush of escaping heat, but the inside is ice cold.

  “What?” I ask aloud to the empty kitchen in disbelief.

  I’m sure I turned it on before I got started.

  I check the settings. Yes. It’s on, set to 350F.

  Realization sets in.

  The oven is dead.

  “No,” I exclaim, shaking my head. “No, no, no!”

  I slam the door shut and consider my options. My apartment complex is terrible at keeping up with maintenance. Knowing them, they won’t send someone to fix it until Wednesday. And they definitely won’t consider this an emergency.

  Oh, but it is. It’s is a total emergency.

  This is a complicated cheesecake to make, and I used expensive ingredients. I can’t let this go unbaked. Not now. Not when I’m desperate to show Miss “I’m Not Impressed, Josephine” my work.

  I must figure this out.

  I begin pacing as I think. Too bad the guy next door is a complete jerk who blares death metal all day. I’ve already complained about his music, so he would never let me use his oven. There’s a married couple across the hall, but I don’t know them well enough to say, “Hey! If you let me use your oven, I’ll give you a cheesecake. You like cannoli, right? Mind if I come in and hang out for an hour?”

  Gah. Gah. Gah.

  Then I remember something.

  Jude.

  He plays professional hockey for the Denver Mountain Lions and just returned from the UK for another season. He is away at the Broadmoor Resort in Colorado Springs with Sierra for a few days before training camp, but his roommate and teammate, Cade Callahan, has also just returned. And as luck has it, they live on the sixth floor.

  I’ve been to their apartment before and met Cade twice, but both times he was watching TV with a baseball hat pulled down low over his face. So while I’m not a complete stranger to him, I wouldn’t say we are friends.

  Cade would probably let me borrow his oven.

  Wow. I can be so resourceful when I’m faced with tossing a cheesecake.

  I grab my keys and fly out the door, quickly locking it behind me before running to the elevator. I punch the button for their floor and say a prayer to Julia Child—because she would totally understand my predicament—that Cade Callahan is home.

  And not using his oven.

  Ding!

  The doors chime and open to Jude and Cade’s floor. I sprint down the long hall to their unit and punch the doorbell.

  Jude’s dog begins barking loudly, but I hear no sign of Cade inside.

  All right, I can’t expect Cade to answer in 2.5 seconds.

  I try to be patient, but instead, I ring the bell a few more times like an annoying kid.

  Ding! Ding! Ding!

  Bark! Bark! Bark!

  “Cade?” I yell over the sound of Jude’s dog, Leia. “It’s Sierra’s roommate, Josephine! I have an emergency and I need your help!”

  “Coming,” Cade yells back. “Just a second.”

  “Thank God,” I whisper. I can feel the use of his oven is within my grasp. I’ll bake my beautiful cheesecakes and all will go according to today’s Purpose and Passion plan.

  Leia continu
es barking as I hear new noise on the other side of the door. Finally, the door is unlocked, and Cade pulls it open.

  My mouth hits the floor.

  Because Cade is standing in front of me in nothing but a white bath towel; it’s tied dangerously low beneath the hot V-shape that tapers down from his waist. Water beads drip down his tanned, muscular skin and—oh, my God, what is that sexy Asian lettering tattooed up the side of his ribcage?

  “Josephine?”

  I tear my gaze away from his body and to his eyes.

  They are a gorgeous jade color I’ve never seen before.

  “Huh?” I say absently as I move from his eyes to the super-hot stubble shading his jawline.

  Cade takes a moment to brush back his wet hair with one hand.

  Is it hot in the hallway? I’m suddenly really freaking hot. I tug at the neckline of my apron for a bit of relief.

  “I think you said you had an emergency,” he says slowly, moving his hand to the knot of his towel and holding it in place, “so, how can I help you, Josephine?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  How can you help me? I think, staring in lust at Cade’s gorgeous athletic body. How can you help me?

  Well, you can start by taking off that towel, Mr. Callahan.

  Ack! No! I give myself a mental slap—the ‘snap out of it’ kind of slap seen in the movie Moonstruck—and blink.

  Rapidly.

  “Um. I need heat,” I blurt out.

  Wait. Wrong. GAH!

  Cade cocks an eyebrow at me. “How can I help you with heat?”

  Josephine Camilla Rossi, get your lustful mind on track, I scold myself.

  “Cade,” I say.

  Then I stop.

  Oh, wow, even his name is hot.

  “Josephine.”

  I shake my head. “I have a baking crisis. My oven is out. And I have two cannoli cheesecakes that need to go into t—

  “Cannoli? Those cream filled things?”

  “Why? Do you like cannoli?”

  “Heck, yes.”

  I cock an eyebrow at him. “That’s a very Napoleon Dynamite answer.”