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

by Aven Ellis

  City girl Josephine Rossi, preparing for an adventure in the great outdoors.

  With a beautiful man I can’t stop thinking about.

  I get up from bed and check my reflection in the mirror one more time. I’m dressed in jeans and a navy T-shirt, with a red and navy flannel shirt thrown over the top. I’ve pulled my hair up into a high ponytail, and I am wearing my usual bare minimum of makeup. I find I need less these days. I really have a glow about me. My eyes are sparkling. My cheeks naturally flush. I’m happy and excited.

  All because of Cade Callahan.

  While I know every date with Cade is just that, a date, I hope with all my heart that his feelings are progressing like mine have started to. But while my feelings are growing, I need to remember to heed Skye’s warning and stay cautious.

  I throw a bottle of sunscreen into my tote and head into the living room. As I do, my phone vibrates inside the bag.

  I grin, knowing it is Cade.

  I retrieve my phone and read his text:

  If you happened to order a fishing guide for today, he’s right outside your door.

  Oh, serious swoon.

  I open the door and find Cade standing before me, looking all kinds of hot in a gray Henley with a white T-shirt peeking out from underneath and khaki shorts that reveal his muscular legs. His facial scruff is full, like he hasn’t shaved, and his longish dark locks once again peek out teasingly from underneath his maroon Denver Mountain Lions baseball hat.

  And once again I get butterflies at the mere sight of him. While locking the door, I can feel Cade’s eyes lingering on my face.

  “You look sexy, Josephine,” Cade says, his voice low.

  I feel myself blush as I slip the key into my bag.

  “Didn’t you say my off the shoulder shirts were sexy?” I tease.

  “Of course they are,” Cade says as we walk toward the elevator. “But this . . . you in flannel and a ponytail. You look beautiful at this awful hour . . . and you’re going fishing with me. All of this is a turn-on.”

  Then, as if to punctuate the point, he stops walking, draws my body to his, and presses his mouth to mine with urgency.

  I burn with heat the second his mouth claims mine. His stubble scratches against my face, I taste mint toothpaste on his tongue, and I smell the glorious scent of his soap that lingers on his tan skin.

  Cade breaks the kiss, and I draw in a breath of air. He slowly traces his thumb over my lower lip, and my body shivers in response.

  “You are very hot right now,” he says, his voice low.

  I’m about to suggest we skip fishing when he takes my hand in his.

  “Come on, let’s head out for Boulder.”

  He leads me to the elevator and presses the down button.

  “Do you know I’ve lived here for nine months and I’ve never been to Boulder?” I ask.

  Cade shoots me a quizzical look. “Really? It’s only forty-five minutes from here.”

  “I know, and I’m sure it’s a happening town what with the University of Colorado there, but this is the first time I’ve ventured outside of Denver.”

  “Then I’m glad we’re taking this adventure together,” Cade says, his eyes locking on mine.

  Adventure, I think, staring up at the handsome face I’m getting to know. I’m going on an adventure, but not in the way Cade is thinking. I’m taking an adventure with Cade. With romance.

  And, most of all, with my heart.

  ***

  “Cade, this drive is beautiful,” I say in wonder, staring at the mountains surrounding us on this gorgeous September day. The sun is bathing the mountains in a golden glow, and it’s a spectacular sight to behold.

  Cade nods as he keeps his eyes on the road. “That’s why I love coming out here. Boulder is at the base of the mountains, so you get this fantastic view. You should see the Flatirons,” he continues. “You can hike trails up sandstone formations. It’s fantastic. In a few weeks, the trees will be crimson and gold. That is when it is really breathtaking.”

  “This is my first autumn here,” I say. “I’d love to see that.”

  “Between October fifth and twentieth is the best time to see them, because the first snow will fall and you can get the colors of the trees against the snow-capped mountains. I don’t have my game schedule memorized, but we’ll come back and hike and take pictures of it sometime.”

  We’ll come back.

  Happiness fills every part of me as those words replay in my head.

  “I’d love that,” I say, smiling. Then I remember I’m terrible at outdoors stuff. “But, um, I’ve never hiked before.”

  Cade takes another bend in the road, heading to our destination, which he said is a teammate’s house that is situated on a private fishing pond.

  “Really?” Cade asks. “Not even once?”

  “Nope.”

  “I grew up hiking in the Hudson Valley. We did it all the time as a family when I was young. And my favorite spot you could handle. The FDR National Historic Site. I walk that trail a lot when I’m back home. I think of how beloved Roosevelt’s home was to him,” he says, his voice growing with enthusiasm as he refers to the legendary American president. “Springwood was his lifelong home and central to who he was. Eleanor Roosevelt said he went there for rest. Peace. Strength. It was so important to him that he returned more than 200 times during his presidency. Can you imagine being so connected to a place like that?

  “You feel the past as you walk in the present,” Cade continues eagerly. “I think of how many decisions he made overlooking those grounds. The leaders who came there, like Winston Churchill and King George VI. What they talked about changed the world. And that is powerful.”

  I study him in awe. Cade is so passionate about history and what it means, and he has an amazing ability to connect with that. He’s mindful of it. I picture him walking those woods, thinking of the history on the grounds before him, and appreciating the power of a place in the heart of one of our greatest leaders.

  He abruptly stops talking.

  “Shit, I’m sorry,” Cade says, frowning. “That was probably more than you ever cared to hear about FDR outside of American history class.”

  “No, no, I love hearing you talk. You have no idea what a pleasure it is to hear you speak about your passion.”

  Cade doesn’t say anything as he turns into a neighborhood with older, bigger homes, spread out between each other on acres of land with the mountains looming as a gorgeous backdrop.

  “You’re a sweetheart to say that.”

  I furrow my brow. “No, I mean it. I don’t say things I don’t mean, remember? I can’t wait for you to start working on your book, Cade. It will be written in the same energy you have when you share your love of history. You make me want to walk that trail. I want to see it all through your eyes.”

  “Thank you,” Cade says.

  “For what?”

  “You understand me.”

  I don’t say anything, but say everything by reaching for his free hand and placing mine over his.

  Cade squeezes my hand, and nothing needs to be said.

  Even though it’s early, and we have such a long way to go, this feels right.

  Unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

  “So you’ve never hiked a trail?”

  “Um, let me think. No. Unless it’s the trail from the front to the back of Williams-Sonoma,” I tease.

  Cade’s face lights up in a beautiful smile.

  “Then we have another adventure ahead of us.”

  Oooh!

  “Well, if we’re planning all these adventures, I guess I need to get on it and come up with one for you,” I say.

  “The trail of upscale kitchen wares?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I’m full of surprises,” I declare.

  “That you are. You continually surprise me,” Cade says.

  “What? How? I’ve never been called surprising in my life.”

  “Boy, you really don’t se
e what I see, do you?” Cade says, turning his BMW down another road.

  “What do you see?” I ask, feeling brave.

  “That answer will have to wait until later because we’ve arrived.”

  Damn it.

  Cade turns into a long circular drive, and his teammate’s house comes into view. Not at all what I expected, either. It’s an older home, I’d guess built in the mid-sixties or seventies, a split-level style nestled among lots of trees. It doesn’t look like something a young, single professional athlete would own.

  “And this would be Maxime’s house,” Cade says. “Or Maxine, as we call him in practice.”

  “Oh, I bet he loves that,” I say.

  Cade grins. “Yeah. We call him Maxine to piss him off. He’s from Belgium. His name is Maxime Laurent. Max is a good guy,” he says, stopping right behind a Jaguar F-Pace luxury SUV. “I wouldn’t be close to him if he weren’t.”

  I nod, as I feel this is true. Cade surrounds himself with good people. Like Jude. So I’m guessing Maxime is the same.

  “This doesn’t look like a house a player would have,” I muse aloud. “This is a family house. Besides, it’s so far from Denver.”

  “Once you meet Max, you’ll get it,” Cade explains, shutting off the engine. “This is his Springwood.”

  And as I get out of the car and look at Cade, with the sun of the new day shining down on him, I want nothing more than for him to find his own Springwood, too.

  “Come on,” Cade says, taking my hand and walking me to the front door. “We’ll let Max know we’re here, then we can get our fishing stuff and head around to the back.”

  Cade told me Maxime has his own private pond in his backyard, so we have the luxury of fishing in privacy today.

  We reach the door, and Cade rings the doorbell. I hear multiple dogs barking and then some French being spoken, and then the barking stops. The door opens, and my eyes widen as I see Maxime for the first time.

  If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was a model, not a hockey player.

  He’s not as tall as Cade, but I’d say 6’2. Mid-twenties. Maxime’s hair is thick and wavy and a stunning blend of blond and brown. His eyes are a piercing blue-green shade, and he smiles when he sees us.

  “Cade, glad you could come out,” Maxime says with a heavy French accent, and I find I have to concentrate to understand him. “Come on in.”

  As we step inside the house, I see the interior has been updated. The floor plan is airy and open, filled with lots of windows and pale gray walls. The sunlight is now cascading through, shining on the gray-toned wood floors.

  “Thanks for letting us fish on your pond,” Cade says as he gives Maxime a fist bump. “Max, this is Josephine Rossi. Josephine, this is Maxime Laurent.”

  “Nice to meet you,” he says, extending his hand to mine.

  “JoJo,” I return, shaking his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, too.”

  “Cade talked a lot about you when we were skating this week,” Max says, smiling at me. “He never talks about anything interesting, so it was a welcome change,” he teases.

  I like Max already.

  “I’m only nice to you because you have a fishing pond,” Cade insists. He bends down to pet one of the two big, identical, long-haired black dogs sitting behind Max.

  “Your dogs are beautiful,” I say, studying them.

  “Thank you. They are Chien de Berger Belge. Belgian Sheepdogs,” he immediately translates. “The one putting up with Cade is Amé. This one,” he says, bending down and ruffling the other dog’s thick fur, “is Henri. You can pet them. They’re good dogs. Aren’t you, Henri?”

  Max stands up as I bend down to let Henri sniff my hand, and once he does, I pet him, stroking his long hair with my fingers.

  “Make yourselves at home,” Max says. “I’m going to take these two up to the Flatirons today for a walk. We’ll be gone for a while. I want to go before the trails get crowded. There’s good coffee in the kitchen, Beyers from Belgium, help yourself.”

  I stand up and watch as Max throws a baseball hat over his luxurious locks, tosses a flannel shirt over his white T-shirt, and grabs two leashes sitting on the hall entry table.

  Cade gets up and smiles. “Max thinks our American coffee is shit.”

  “It is,” Max says easily. “Oh, and in return for using my pond, I expect fish and chips for lunch when I get back.”

  “Now you sound like Jupe,” Cade says, laughing.

  Max laughs with him. “I miss fish and chips. You can’t get a decent chip in the States, they aren’t cut right, I can’t eat them without mushy peas,” he says in a fake British accent to mimic Jude.

  “Mushy peas?” I ask, curious.

  “I’m surprised he hasn’t forced Sierra to figure out how to make them,” Cade says.

  I grin. “Because she hates peas, that’s why.”

  “That’s hilarious. I’m so giving him shit about that later.”

  “I’m still giving you shit about thinking Americans know what a good cup of coffee is,” Max adds over his shoulder as he heads out the door.

  As soon as the door shuts behind him, I turn to Cade. “I can see why you’re friends with him. He’s nice.”

  “He’s a great guy. I think they’ll name him alternate captain this year,” Cade says. “They should. He’s a quiet leader. That’s why he likes to live out here. It’s private, and that’s how he likes to live off the ice.”

  Cade takes my hand and leads me into the living room. We move past a comfy-looking, black sectional and to a set of large windows that give us a view of huge deck out back. Towering trees frame a private pond, and it’s beautiful.

  “This is all his?” I ask in amazement.

  “Yeah. Come on,” Cade says, opening the door that leads to the deck.

  We step outside and onto a huge patio where there’s another sectional seating area. To my left, I see a breathtaking view of the Rockies. I hear nothing except the sounds of water lapping in the pond, birds chirping, and wind gently moving the leaves in the trees.

  We don’t say anything for a moment, content to take in the view and let the autumn sun warm our skin.

  “This is why I love Colorado,” Cade says eventually, breaking the silence. “The openness, the rugged beauty, the peacefulness of the sunrise over the mountains.”

  I nod. “It’s so different from Chicago,” I say. “I never thought I could fall in love with another place outside of home, but when I see this, these views, and that I get to see what nature created every day, it does speak to me in a way I never dreamed.”

  I glance at Cade. Like you speak to me, I think, staring up at him.

  A mischievous smile slowly spreads across his face. “I’ll make an outdoor girl out of you yet.”

  “Okay, you just hold on there, cowboy,” I say, giggling. “I don’t even know how to put a worm on a hook. Or do we even use worms?”

  Cade throws his head back and laughs. “Hold on. I’ll get my gear.”

  I watch as he heads back inside the house, and I wrap my arms around myself as a feeling of complete joy washes over me.

  I never dreamed I’d be here. I’m in the Rockies. About to fish. Surrounded by trees and mountains and a glorious sunrise in Colorado.

  With a man I’m falling rapidly for.

  Nine months ago, my future was set on a different path. I moved here to start my dream job. I thought Marco would eventually join me. We’d get engaged. Enjoy life in Denver before relocating back to Chicago.

  I remember I was devastated when that all fell apart.

  But now I understand why it did.

  I wasn’t meant to live that life.

  But I might be meant to live one with Cade.

  I hear the door open and turn to find Cade returning with two fishing poles, a net, and a tackle box. He’s in his element. Cade’s rugged and outdoorsy, and I know this brings him as much pleasure as baking does me.

  “Do you want a cup of Max’s ‘this-is-not-
crap-American-coffee’ before we get started?” he asks as he walks up to me.

  “No, I’m still good from the lattes we got before we hit the road,” I say.

  “Okay, let’s do this,” Cade says.

  I walk down the steps of the deck to the grass below. Cade follows me and puts the gear down by the edge of the pond.

  “I’ve never held a fishing pole,” I admit.

  “I have serious issues with how you were raised,” Cade teases.

  “Come on. Do you see Nonna fishing?”

  “No, I see Nonna baking cannoli shells and drinking wine.”

  “There you go.”

  He smiles, and I smile back. Then he bends down and picks up a pole, checking the end of it. “Okay, this has a little weight on it. Come here, you.”

  I move next to him, and Cade slides behind me, pressing his chest against my back and putting the pole in my hand. He bends down lower so he can speak into my ear.

  “Okay,” he says, his voice murmuring sexily against my skin, “body position is key.”

  Heat burns through me. Who knew fishing could be hot?

  Cade puts his hands on my hips and gently swivels me forward.

  “You need to be square, just like this,” he instructs.

  Oh, dear God. How can I think about fishing now? How?

  “This is a spincast reel,” Cade says, putting his hand over mine and demonstrating how to reel and use the release button. We practice dropping the line and reeling it back up.

  Cade explains how to cast the line into the water. “Have your hands at waist level,” he says, lowering them down. “Now, you’re going to hold the release button while you pull your arm back, okay?”

  I nod as Cade and I move the rod together, straight back, and then forward.

  “Release it,” he instructs at the right moment.

  I watch as the line flies to the center of the pond, then, plunk! It hits the water.

  “We did it!” I say gleefully.

  “Your first cast. There you go,” Cade says. “Now reel it back in.”

  “That was so cool!”

  “Wait until you catch something,” Cade says.

  I bring the line in, and Cade takes the pole from my hand.

  “I’ll put a lure on it,” he says, moving over to his tackle box.