Hot on Ice: A Hockey Romance Anthology

by Avery Flynn

“I know what you meant.” The smile in her voice made him glance over quickly. Definitely didn’t look like she still wanted to kill him.

  I’ll take it.

  “It’s okay. I don’t need fancy. Besides, I like King’s Place Mall. Hasn’t been renovated since … well, ever. By most definitions it doesn’t even qualify as a mall, but I like that, too. And Second Cup is good.”

  She was right on every count. Antiquated was a kind word to describe it, but going there always felt like visiting a place frozen in time. There was something comforting about that. Second Cup stuck out for its newness, one shiny block of contemporary charm in the aging complex of King’s Place. It suited Aria in a way. She was the shiny, new hope of Bear Mountain, a reserve that’d been hanging on by threads until she took over. His father had done all he could in his time as chief, but Aria had breathed new life into the place, and knowing her, she wouldn’t stop until it was fully revived. She had a talent for that.

  “Here we are.” He parked and hopped out, making it around to her side just as she climbed down and closed her own door. Attempting chivalry was hard with a girl used to doing everything not only for herself, but for everyone else, too. That didn’t mean he’d stop trying. He held out an arm, elbow up. She looked at it with arched brows like he’d just offered her a tentacle. Okay, so their relationship had never been especially formal, but a new start demanded new effort.

  The twist of her lips said she was laughing at him on the inside, but she looped her arm through his. Humoring him. She smelled so good, like wildflowers and honey. God, his palms were sweating. When was the last time he’d been nervous on a date? Never. At least his awkwardness appeared to amuse her.

  They walked in through the front doors, immediately enveloped by the warm, glow of the café. Scents of coffee, cinnamon, chocolate, and more savory foods pulled him in farther and made his stomach rumble. Though his mother had tried her best to feed him, he hadn’t been hungry all day. Until now. They placed their orders at the counter then picked a booth. Sitting opposite her was somehow more intimidating than sitting beside her. Those wide, dark eyes held the truths of the past and the uncertainty of the present. He’d try like hell to replace all of that with hope for the future.

  “So I know I haven’t said it yet, but congratulations. On winning the Cup. That’s really amazing. I know it’s something you’ve wanted your whole life and something very few people can claim.”

  Pride and happiness buoyed in him surprising and sharp. Those words from her had a bigger impact than he’d expected. Her approval, her excitement for his dream meant more than anyone else’s. She’d always been the one on the listening end of his conquering-the-big-league speeches. And since he’d started giving those as soon as he could talk, that meant Aria had clocked a good twenty-five years as his cheering section. Fifteen, if you didn’t count the last eight but apparently she was still rooting for him. And following that wave of joy was a second white squall of regret. “I know I don’t deserve you. But I want to.”

  Her face went blank, and her lips parted, but before she could respond, their food arrived. For a few minutes, they ate in silence, but he didn’t taste his sandwich until she spoke again.

  “What is New Orleans like?”

  The change in topic took a beat to process and stung, but her question held some potential implications like maybe she wanted to find out what New Orleans was like for herself. It was imperative not to cart-horse the situation, so he took a slow breath before answering. She didn’t owe him anything. “Uh … a non-stop frat party in an armpit?”

  She had a mouthful of coffee and was a millisecond from spitting it all over him but clamped a hand over her lips and managed to swallow. Then she laughed. “You make it sound so glamorous.”

  He grinned. “I guess it’s not that bad. The food is amazing, and there are some cool voodoo shops. Even the zydeco has grown on me.”

  “Voodoo?”

  “The locals take it pretty seriously, but the shops are mostly geared toward tourists. Don’t worry; I don’t have any shrunken heads or chicken feet in my closet.”

  “Hey, no judgment here. I bet there are actually a lot of parallels to some of the old Mi’kmaq traditions.”

  “I remember some of the stories Niskamij used to tell us. You’re probably right.”

  “I’ve been doing a lot of research for the cultural center. Niskamij embellished a lot to give us nightmares. The real practices were still kind of shocking but contained less mythical monsters.” Her expression warmed and glowed.

  I missed that smile. Nothing could have prepared him for just how much. Aria unguarded was a force of nature, and he wanted to stand in the center of her storm and absorb it all.

  Her expression veiled—not entirely but enough—and her voice was soft, unsure. “Stop it.”

  “What?”

  “Looking at me like an idol on an alter.”

  He’d sacrificed her long ago to his cause. It wouldn’t happen again. But what would it take to make her believe that? “Sorry. Sometimes I can’t help it.”

  She lowered her gaze to the half-eaten sandwich on her plate, but the smallest smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

  I’m not out yet. “Tell me about university. About coming back to the reserve. I’d ask what inspired you to be chief, but that part isn’t a mystery. You were an integral part of Bear Mountain since you learned how to talk.”

  Her smile grew with a shade of embarrassment mixed in there, probably remembering the time she’d stomped into a council meeting, demanding her eight year-old voice be heard on the matter of children’s curfews. He’d heard all about it from his father that night, and the old man had been amused and a little proud of Mimiges spreading her wings. Apparently, she’d made a pretty solid case.

  “University was an eye-opening experience for sure. It helped that we’d gone to school off the reserve as teenagers. Lessened the shock some.”

  “I know what you mean. I’d thought I was comfortable in the real world when I left for Toronto, but it turns out the world is a lot bigger and more complicated than New Brunswick. And Toronto was just a crash course for New Orleans. Nobody parties like the Big Easy.”

  “Socialized a lot, huh?”

  “I … yeah. I was young and impressionable, and it’s kind of a team-bonding thing. A lot of the guys go out drinking after a win. If you don’t, it’s like rejecting the brotherhood. And yes, I know how stupid it sounds when you say it out loud, but it’s true.”

  “I could see how easy it would be to get wrapped up in that.”

  “You can? I could never see you getting wrapped up in anything. You always knew exactly who you were and what you wanted, and no one was gonna stand in your way.”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m a robot, Bear. I’m not perfect. I have weaknesses just like anyone else.”

  “Oh yeah? Name one.”

  “You.”

  It hit him like a one-two punch. The first blow was a mix of hope and satisfaction, but it was followed quickly by a wallop of shame. If she saw her feelings for him as a weakness, then she’d want to eradicate them. If there was one thing Aria hated, it was a gap in her otherwise impenetrable strength. He’d blown a hole in it. And while that was a tough accomplishment, it was nothing to be proud of. “Why’d you go back to the reserve after you graduated? You could’ve run any city you wanted.”

  In three phases, her face transformed from vulnerable to surprised to flattered but in a humble way. Her chin dipped down, and long, silky black hair fell to frame her face. She lifted a shoulder. “When I went to university, I told myself I’d keep an open mind, and I did. Honestly, I was a little shocked to realize the only place I really wanted to be was Bear Mountain. I thought about leaving, but my mother’s there. Your family … they’ve been like mine. I knew nothing would mean more to me than making Bear Mountain what it deserves to be.”

  She’ll never leave. He hadn’t had a solid plan for the future, had only known he wanted
one together. Couldn’t imagine one without her. But the logistics were not in their favor. The thing was, he didn’t know how to give up. Never did. “You’ve done an amazing job.”

  “Thanks, but there’s a lot left to do.”

  “You’ll do it.”

  She lowered a brow. “Don’t you need pom poms for this?”

  “You’ve always been my cheerleader. I’m not allowed to be yours?”

  “You’re allowed.” She sat back with skepticism that slid into amusement. “Though there may have been a few months when I wasn’t cheering for you.” Her playfulness took the sting out of it.

  “All right.” He grinned. “Completely justified.”

  Her dark gaze turned thoughtful, and a weightless feeling crested over him. His stomach dropped, and his heart pounded. That was new. In all the years he’d known her, they’d always been comfortable around each other, an easy, perfect fit. He’d never felt this with anyone else, either. After Aria, it’d been a string of short almost-relationships and random hookups. Nothing important enough to make him nervous. So why was it different now? Maybe because they were no longer a sure thing. Aria’s heart wasn’t guaranteed to him, and while that made him want her more, it was also scary as hell.

  “Do I have any chance with you? If I can prove to you that I deserve one?”

  She pursed her lips and the pro-con scale in her head was almost visible in her expression. “I don’t know.”

  Not a yes but not a no, and a strange relief washed over him. “I’ll take it.”

  8

  “I’ve completely lost my mind.” Her reflection didn’t argue. Aria brushed blush onto her cheeks then swiped a tinted gloss over her lips. Today was the day. Cup day. It could either be a great opportunity or an immense catastrophe for the reserve. A nagging feeling said it would be the latter, but it was too late now. She slipped on a pair of low heels to go with her sleeveless wrap dress and slid into a blazer on her way out the door.

  She hopped into her car and yelped.

  “Good morning, Seggw. You didn’t think I’d miss this, did you?” Her mother smiled from the passenger seat, already buckled in.

  “There’ll be plenty of time to see the Cup, Gijú. This morning is just preliminary. I’m meeting with the Cup’s keeper, photographer, and film crew, setting ground rules one last time before Bear takes it anywhere.”

  “Oh I know that, dear. I don’t want to miss a second. This has never happened here before, and unless Bear can win another, I doubt it ever will again, no disrespect to the street hockey kids.” Bear had once been one of the street hockey kids. So had Aria for that matter. They barely had enough players to scrape two teams together, but it was some of the only recreation available on the reserve. If you were a kid between the ages of ten and eighteen, you laced up some in-line skates and jumped into the mix.

  There was no talking her mother out of coming along, so any further argument would be moot, and she was already late. Before they even reached the council building, it was apparent her gijú wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to miss a second. A crowd was gathered outside the building—at least half the reserve. That nagging feeling twisted itself into a knot and nestled in her stomach for the long haul.

  Aria parked and hustled her mother in the back door before the mob could reach them. Her second in command was down the hall, talking to a thin young man with a big black case. When Ollie spotted her, he waved, and even from a hundred feet away, the relief on his face was visible. It would be funny if he weren’t about to transfer the headache to her.

  She turned to her mother and pointed to the conference room. “Wait in there, okay? There should be coffee and maybe some donuts left. This shouldn’t take long.”

  “My seggw, taking control. Just like your grandmother, bless her spirit.”

  A high compliment. Her grandmother had been a force for good on the reserve as the stories went. “I wish I’d known her.”

  “You do. Every time you look in the mirror.” Her mother winked and wandered into the conference room.

  Aria took a slow breath and strode down the hallway, shoulders squared, ready to lay down the law. And then Bear stepped out of Ollie’s office, caught her gaze, and stole her breath. Was that Rage T-shirt painted on? It was definitely two sizes too small because every line on his chest showed from pecs to naval. Those jeans didn’t leave much to the imagination, either. The man knew how to play hardball. Hard puck. Hard… Not helping. That train of thought was not helping. Maybe it’s not for me. He might be decked out for the camera crew, for the millions of women who’d see the film footage or the photos. A traitorous pang reverberated in her chest. This is stupid.

  It shouldn’t matter why Bear looked like a GQ cover. He might have thought he wanted her back, but it was nostalgia. As soon as the summer was up, he’d be back in New Orleans, a world away in every way, and she’d still be right here. Why had he insisted on a date? Didn’t he know how this would play out? False hope was almost as big an offense as the heartbreak that always followed. But none of that mattered now. Today was all business.

  She closed the distance to the group and extended her hand to the guy with the case. “Aria Paul, chief of Bear Mountain Reserve.”

  Case guy had a fish grip but his lop-sided, genuine smile said it was due to social awkwardness and not because he was standoffish. That also explained the shaggy haircut. “Edwin Motz, Keeper of the Cup.”

  “A pleasure to meet you.”

  He dipped his head in agreement then stepped out of the way as a few other men—the photographer and film crew—stepped in for handshakes.

  After introductions, she nodded toward her office and led the way. Standing behind her desk lent an extra message of power, and she took full advantage of it, staring everyone down like a military instructor. “We’re all proud of Bear here. He deserves to bring his success home, and we’re glad to use this as an opportunity to share our heritage with the world, but please understand that this is not the norm. Aside from opening our businesses to the public, we’re a private people. We’ve never had media here of any kind. I know I’ve already gone over the guidelines and my general expectations, but I just want to underline them once more. This isn’t a show-all, journalistic investigation. You’re here to highlight Bear’s favorite places, and I’ll give you access to the cultural center. Any questions?”

  Nothing from Motz, but a film guy spoke up. “No agenda here, Chief Paul. We’ll let Bear guide us. You’ll be there if anything pops up.”

  That was slightly reassuring, but the boulder in her gut wouldn’t go away until this was all over. “All right then. What’s first?”

  The photographer cleared his throat. “We’d like to start with a shot of Bear on the steps to the council building holding the Cup over his head. The league will use it in some print material. Ma’am.”

  “That sounds fine.”

  Most of the men filed out of her office as fast as they could with the bulky equipment, but Bear hung back. He waited until the last one was gone before leaning over her desk, bringing his lips millimeters from hers then flashed that smile that was sexy, sweet, and too charming for his own good. “They’re terrified of you.”

  Her mouth and throat were dry, so talking was a conscious effort. “Good.” She tried to keep her breathing slow and even. Damned if she’d give him the satisfaction of showing how much he affected her. Then he closed the short distance and pressed his mouth to hers, a sensual, gentle kiss that belied the yearning behind it, and for a few seconds, her own name fell off her radar.

  When he pulled away, her eyelids fluttered, and she rocked back on her heels thanks to the spinning room issue. By the time she got a grip, he’d already about-faced and left. I’ll get you back. It was a dumb, irrational urge that would one hundred percent lead to her undoing, but the man needed to be humbled. Just wait. Her sweet revenge didn’t need to be caught on camera.

  One deep breath, and she followed the crew out onto the front
steps and ushered the onlookers down into the street. Edwin Motz donned white gloves and unlatched the giant, black case to reveal the Cup. Light bounced off the silver metal, making it look ethereal, and from the way Bear’s face smoothed into awe, that’s just what it was to him. He’d seen it before, touched it, even kissed it. The whole reserve had gathered to watch the final games in their one bar that didn’t actually serve alcohol and saw Bear skate it around the snowy Crescent Center ice. The smile that almost split his face in half now said the reverence and excitement hadn’t worn off, probably never would. Even as a bystander, the Cup’s magic was palpable. Aboriginal or not, everyone in Canada grew up worshiping the trophy, and her heart gave a little hop as Edwin took it out and handed it to Bear.

  The sun was well into its climb through the sky, and though the reserve’s close proximity to the ocean meant low humidity, the heat was enough to paste the silky material of her dress to the spandex shorts underneath. Bear, on the other hand, looked as if wind spirits followed him around, keeping him perfectly cool at all times. Not even a drop of sweat on his forehead as he lifted the Cup. It was annoying. The muscles in his arms bulged, but no effort showed on his face as he posed for the photographer. Who knew you could see abs through a black T-shirt?

  “Nice, Bear. One, two, and three. Whoops.” Right before the man’s camera flashed, Aria’s mother stepped through the double doors, waved, and beamed.

  Knew I forgot something. Aria leaned over to look at the screen, and sure enough, a perfectly timed photo bomb. Yep. This is going to be my whole day. “Gijú, how about you wait over here with me?”

  Her mother hustled down the steps and out of the way. “Oh, of course. Doesn’t Bear look handsome? It’s nice to see you, dear.”

  Did he blush? “Thanks, Mrs. Paul. It’s nice to see you, too.”

  “Please, call me Gijú.”

  What? Where was the loyalty? He did not get to call her “Mom”. Whose side was she on, anyway? At least Bear had the grace to look hesitant.