Hot on Ice: A Hockey Romance Anthology

by Avery Flynn

  Holding on to the branch above them with one hand, he cupped her jaw with the other and kissed her hungrily, deeply, like he couldn’t get enough. God help her, neither could she. She slid her hands along his sides, over his back, arched into him to increase the contact. Sparks crackled throughout her whole body, threatening a full-out electrical storm.

  They made out like kids with blind passion and no actual plan beyond kiss, touch, squeeze, more. At one point, the fact that they were in a tree melted away as he pulled one of her legs atop his, but a heart-stopping wobble served as an adrenaline-spiking reminder. She planted her hands on his firm chest and pushed. He didn’t lean back but did break the kiss, panting and through a haze of lust looking like he couldn’t remember what year it was.

  She laughed and leaned her head against the trunk. “What are we doing?”

  He gripped the branch above them so tightly, his knuckled paled, his pounding pulse visible along his neck. “I … um … what?”

  Though she tried to suppress it, a grin got the best of her. “Do you need a minute for blood flow to redirect to your brain?”

  “Ah…” He hesitated a beat then nodded.

  “It’d be pretty embarrassing if we ended up naked at the bottom of the tree with a couple of broken bones each.”

  “All I heard was ‘naked’.”

  To be fair, her own engine was taking its time cooling off. Sensory memories teased her mercilessly. Even in his late teens, Bear had had strong, skilled hands. What he’d lacked in experience, he’d made up for in enthusiasm. He’d been her first and last. None of the men she’d dated afterward warranted a second date much less anything else. Even the few she’d seen for a month or two never felt … right. It’d been a long dry spell, and the beautiful, glistening ocean sat facing her, ready to swallow her in his tide. Her body pleaded to dive into that undertow. Luckily, her brain still had a fraying tether to the beach. “I’m gonna go ahead and say it. We can’t have sex on this branch.”

  “Does that mean we can have sex somewhere else?”

  Maybe… “No. It’s your day with the Cup, remember? The camera guys didn’t want to give us time to visit the cemetery. They will not agree to another hour for a sex break.”

  “An hour.” His smile turned sly. “You don’t give me enough credit.”

  Heat flashed from her scalp straight down to her toes, and it took a second to remember what she’d been saying. “What about Edwin? If he doesn’t come looking for you, you better believe he’ll hunt down that Cup. All he has to do is follow the umbilical cord.”

  Bear showed teeth in something between a grimace and a laugh. “I will never get that image out of my head.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “All right. No sex in the tree. What about another date? Sex doesn’t have to be a part of it.”

  When she opened her mouth to turn him down, he rushed on.

  “Please, Ari? You’re all I can think about. I don’t know what’s gonna happen at the end of the summer. But I know I want to spend as much time with you as I can. As much as you’ll let me.”

  It was the last amendment that did her in. Those deep, dark eyes, usually shaded with confidence or bravado, were open windows straight into the heart he didn’t let many see. I’m in trouble. She should say no. End this before it really started. But she didn’t want to. “You’re not going to let me down from here until I agree, are you?”

  “No one lets you do anything. Aria Paul requires permission from no one and grants it to herself as she sees fit. One of the things I love about you.”

  Damn it. “One more date.”

  Relief mellowed his smile, smoothed the hard lines of his face, and made him all the more handsome. “Okay. Then I guess we have a potlatch to get to.”

  10

  It was a long walk back through the forest. The Cup’s weight had never bothered Bear before, but that effort combined with what it took not to lay Aria down on the soft, mossy groundcover and make love until the next hockey season started? That drained his energy to the point where it was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other until they made it back to the blacktop. The heat did nothing to rein in his libido. Mistake, letting her walk ahead. The sway of her hips was hypnotic and made his mouth water.

  Edwin broke the trance by appearing out of nowhere and taking the Cup in his white-gloved hands. The image of a ghost cord between the Keeper and the trophy made Bear snort. Edwin didn’t notice. Man was too busy looking over his precious, making sure no harm came to it in his absence. Dude. We need to get you a girl.

  Aria waved a hand in front of Bear’s face. “I need to change. The other tribes are arriving, and Ollie’s greeting them, but he could use your help.”

  “I’m there.”

  She hesitated a second, the fear of everything that could happen in her absence on her face. It was almost funny. But also insulting because it said she didn’t think he could handle it. Then again, that was just Aria. She trusted no one above herself, and most times she had good reason. Finally, she nodded and left.

  He had the option of changing into traditional garb as well, even wanted to, but the film crew had said it was important for him to stand out as an ambassador of the league in his team jersey. Ugh. The thought of pulling a heavy layer of polyester over his already sweat-soaked T-shirt made him dizzy. But an obligation was an obligation. And it would be good press for the team and for the reserve.

  The closer he got to the council building, the louder things got. Set-up was in full swing. Ollie called out directions as volunteers set up tables, displays, decorations, and food. Memories flooded back. When he was a kid, potlatches had been fascinating. Learning the faded customs and traditions of First Nations people had filled him with a sense of belonging. Later, as a teenager, there’d been a rebellious phase. He’d started to feel disconnected from the old ways, thought them outdated. Didn’t understand why it was so important to cling to the past when First Nations in general were becoming more and more modernized.

  It wasn’t until he’d won the Cup and thought about the prospect of bringing it home that he’d started to really think about what home meant. Aria had always known, and he’d never understood that. Until now. Standing at the heart of the reserve, the community of people who’d been a part of his life for the entirety of it bustling around and coming together hit him like a three hundred pound defenceman. Embarrassment welled up over the years he’d spent dodging these events or even mocking them.

  “Thompson. There you are. And here you go.” One of the league affiliates handed him his jersey, then disappeared back into the crowd. Bear held back a sigh, pulled it on, and the sweat on his torso immediately tripled. I bet I smell fantastic.

  A little girl of about six dressed in a tan, leather dress with fringe at the knees bounded up to him, a colorful, beaded headband holding back long, black hair. “Bear! Bear! Will you sign this?” She held up a worn, white hockey helmet covered in scrapes.

  He took it and pulled a permanent marker from his pocket. Good thing Edwin had suggested he carry one at all times today. “Looks like it’s seen some action. Do you play?”

  “Only every day. You’re like my hero.” She beamed, not one shy bone in her body, completely unafraid to go for whatever she wanted. A mini Aria.

  If they had a daughter, would she be the same way? Where did that come from? He shook it off and signed his name along with his jersey number.

  “Thank you! Hey, next season make sure to keep your head up in the corners. It’s not safe to keep it down!” She bounded away into the crowd, carrying the signed helmet above her head like a trophy.

  He smirked. Everyone was a critic. That pint-sized one just happened to agree with his coach. More people filtered over for autographs over ranging in age from three to eighty. By the time he got through them all, his marker was nearly dry and he’d signed everything from pucks to foreheads.

  “Welcome to Bear Mountain Reserve.” Aria’s voice cut throu
gh the crowd on a loud speaker. She stood on the top step of the council building, microphone in hand, outfitted in a traditional dress that somehow still hugged every curve and raised a lump in his throat. And somewhere else. A colorful, beaded headband kept her long dark hair out of her face, though it billowed around her in the breeze. “I’m Chief Aria Paul, and I’m glad to have you all here today to celebrate one of our own, Bear Thompson.” She swept an arm in his direction and pinned him with her intent gaze.

  He hustled up the steps, and the crowd parted like the Red Sea to let him through. In New Orleans, it didn’t faze him when people screamed his name or treated him like a big deal. It came with being a local celebrity. But his own people? The same who’d seen him learn to walk, fish, hunt? You know me. I’m just Bear. Except, that didn’t seem to be true anymore. And maybe he’d helped to foster that belief by staying away so long. Too good to come back.

  When he got to the top, he accepted the microphone from Aria. Cameras flashed. Film rolled. Edwin stood beside him, the Cup resting on the pedestal that traveled with it. Bear swallowed then glued his media smile in place and raised a hand in greeting. People cheered, clapped, screamed, and waved. A few—his family, teachers, peewee hockey coach—seemed to choke back tears, and that hit him hard.

  It took a second before he could speak with a steady voice. “I’m humbled to be with you today and share my experience with the Cup. For as long as I can remember, it’s been my only goal in life. Part of me felt like I couldn’t come back until I could bring it with me. Time and perspective have shown me that I was lying to myself. The truth is I was afraid to come back.” He glanced at Aria. Her eyes were wide and telegraphed two distinct messages: I can’t believe you’re admitting this. Have you lost your mind? That was certainly up for debate. He focused back on the crowd. “The reasons for that are personal, but I just want you to know Bear Mountain is my home. It always has been and always will be. I’m proud to be First Nations. Proud to be from this reserve, and you should be, too.” More cheers. His mother, crying and laughing, gave him a thumbs up. “I’ll turn it back over to Chief Paul to get things going.”

  Aria seemed a little shocked by his speech but recovered quickly and reclaimed the mic. “Okay! We have craft displays and food tents up and down the main road with a special, sneak preview presentation at our new cultural center, where you will also be able to take pictures with Bear and the Cup and get autographs. I hope you enjoy your time on our great reserve, and thank you for joining us!”

  From that moment on, the day went by in a colorful blur. The reserve had never had this many people on it—not in his time, anyway. Everyone who came by the cultural center took the time to walk through and read the plaques after stopping to see him. He hadn’t quit smiling for three hours straight, and only a small portion of it had been forced. A man could only grin for so many pictures before his cheeks cramped up.

  Still, when Aria slid in beside him behind the autograph table with a plate of food and a water bottle, it wasn’t hard to find a smile for her. “You’re incredible.”

  “Thank you for noticing. I thought you might be hungry.”

  “I love you.”

  “You’re dehydrated and delirious.”

  “I still love you.”

  She rolled her eyes, but a smile played at her lips even though she fought it.

  “Today was a huge success.”

  “I’m afraid to jinx it before every last camera is gone, but yes. It went really well.”

  He picked up a tendril of her hair that’d gone wavy in the heat and humidity and tucked it behind the shell of her ear. Tactile memories from earlier in the tree flooded him and slammed him with heat. The catch in her breath said she was having a similar reaction. That gave him better odds. “There’s one more thing I want to do tonight before Edwin whisks the Cup away in the morning.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “It’s a just-the-two-of-us thing. Well, you, me, Edwin, plus the camera and film guys.”

  “That's a little too kinky for me.”

  He snorted and shook his head. “Yeah, that’s too kinky for me, too. No, I meant I wanted to go to the Hartfield rink.”

  “The first place you played hockey.”

  “The first place I played hockey with actual equipment. You kicked my ass all over the pond in the winters.”

  “I know. I was going to let you live that down, finally. But since you brought it up…”

  He grinned. “Uh huh. So, what do you say? You did agree to one more date.”

  This time she hesitated for just a second before nodding. “Sure. Why not?”

  “There’s the enthusiasm every guy dreams of.”

  11

  It was almost six o’clock before the reserve returned to normal, and as far as Aria could tell, things had gone off without a hitch. The ride to the rink had been awkward but this time not because she’d been alone with Bear. It’d been because she hadn’t. Edwin had taken the seat behind her and buckled the Cup into the seat behind Bear like it was his child. To be fair, at thirty-five pounds, it weighed as much as a small child, and you didn’t want it flying around when you stopped at a red light. The Cup might not be able to get a concussion, but it could give one.

  The place was empty—probably per request. Even in the summers, it typically stayed busy. Or it had. She hadn’t been there in … about nine years. They must have logged a thousand hours here together between his practices, games, and their dates. It’d always felt as much like home as the one she lived in, but more than that, it felt like theirs. Going back without him hadn’t been an option.

  Her heart beat faster as she walked through the door. It was surreal, like stepping back in time. Nothing had been renovated, not even a new coat of paint on the snack bar. It even smelled the same. Crisp, clean, fresh ice. Popcorn. And several decades’ worth of sweaty socks. A strange perfume, but still one of her favorites. The only unfamiliar element was the woman behind the admission counter. Out of habit, Aria reached in her pocket for the five-dollar fee, but the woman smiled at Bear and waved them in. Oh, right.

  Bear led the way into the rink, where the temperature dropped about thirty degrees. It felt amazing after a day under the blazing sun, but it was only a minute before she slid on the hoodie she’d brought. The ice surface stretched out before them, perfect and unblemished. They Zambonied just for us. She tipped her head up to the arched, wooden rafters and squinted in the fading sun that streamed through the skylights. A memory surfaced. The two of them sneaking back onto the ice after a game, after the lights had been turned out, laying on their backs and searching the stars for constellations, making up their own.

  “Do you think it’s still here?”

  No need to ask what he was talking about. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, let’s see.” He set his skates down and climbed up the rows of benches.

  Part of her didn’t want to know, didn’t want to see, didn’t want to remember. Unfortunately, her curious, masochistic side won out. She followed him to the top, and there it was. Carved on the end of the last bench, a heart with their initials and Forever underneath. If only she’d known at fourteen that forever would last precisely five years. It was juvenile to get upset about it now, but this place made her feel like that kid again.

  He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. Her heart pinched, and she bit her lower lip. I will not cry. She didn’t have a chance. In the next breath, he pulled her in and caught her lips in a slow, sweet kiss. No hunger behind this one, at least not the physical kind. He cupped her face gently, seemed perfectly content to keep it innocent. Whether one minute passed or five, it was hard to tell. She hadn’t been kissed like that in a long time, and damned if it didn’t reignite the stupid torch she’d carried all those years.

  Finally, he touched his nose to hers and smiled. “You ready to skate?”

  Sure. Just have to remember how to walk first. “Yep.”

  Without relinquishing her hand, he guided t
hem back down and only broke contact to tie on his skates. Aria donned hers on autopilot and nearly tied a finger into the double knot. Bear didn’t notice. Edwin did but said nothing. It looked like he smirked, but it was hard to tell because any expression lasted only a second between his reverent glances at the Cup.

  Bear offered her a hand up. Pride nearly made her refuse, but protesting too much might throw his competitive streak into high gear, and if he upped his game any higher trying to win her back, she might just give in. When she slid her fingers into his palm, warmth flowed through her at the contact and pooled low. How would those hands feel in other places? Bad Aria. Stop. He led them onto the ice then let go. The disappointment was surprising but cut off by his grin.

  “I just gotta do something first. Hey, Eddie.” Bear glided to the Cup Keeper and stretched out his arms for the trophy. Edwin’s jaw ticked, and he looked annoyed at the nickname, even less amused at the prospect of handing over his baby yet again, but it was in the job description. Once Bear secured the Cup, he lifted it over his head and did a few laps around the rink, pumping it in the air and whooping as if he’d just won it all over again.

  She couldn’t help a smile or the cocktail of pride and happiness that stirred inside. All the work he’d put in here, driving hours away for road games, giving every spare minute of his time to reach hockey’s greatest goal, and he’d really done it. A camera clicked and snapped in the background and she wrestled that smile under control. They were still being filmed and far from alone.

  Still holding the Cup but now at chest level, he skated to her. “Do you remember that game we won against St. Mary’s?”

  We won. She hadn’t been on the ice that night, but she’d cheered hard and yelled more directions than the coach. The funny thing was, the guys had actually listened to her. She might not have been able to play on an all-boys team, but she’d still been a part of it, even had a jersey. He was asking about a specific moment from that game, and she laughed. “Not a single injury in three periods and you separated your shoulder jumping into the boards celebrating the victory.”