Hot on Ice: A Hockey Romance Anthology

by Avery Flynn

  She yanked hard enough to free herself and pushed through the door. But she made the mistake of taking one last glance at him.

  “Liz?” His expression was a mixture of shock and hurt.

  She just shook her head and dashed out to the sidewalk.

  11

  Matt stood there, stunned, as he watched Liz catch the traffic light and race across the street to The Menger Hotel. He was still standing there when Brenna, who had offered to park their car, came rushing up to him, carrying the Cup.

  “Was that Liz I just saw run out of here like her tail was on fire?”

  He nodded, still speechless.

  “What happened? What did you say to her?”

  “I… Hardly anything. She barreled out of here before I could get a word in.” He continued to focus on the familiar figure hurrying toward The Menger.

  “But she must have said something,” Brenna insisted.

  “She said…” He scratched his head. “She said she can’t do this. Can’t do what?”

  Someone tapped his shoulder. He turned to see Dara standing there.

  “Maybe I can help. But let’s get out of the way here before the rest of the cocktail crowd mows us down.”

  “Good idea,” Brenna agreed.

  “Just let me get what’s left of my drink. I’ll be right with you.”

  Matt, in a daze, let his sister lead him to a booth in the back corner of the bar. He took the Cup from her and stowed it on one side then slid in next to it. The two women sat facing him.

  “Alcohol first,” Brenna said, signaling for the waiter.

  “Make mine a double bourbon,” Matt uttered.

  “We need you sober, Mattie,” his sister warned. “Whatever’s going on, you can feel sorry for yourself later. If you want to make this work, stick to one beer.”

  When they all had drinks in front of them, Brenna cleared her throat.

  “Now.” She looked from Matt to Dara. “What the hell is going on?”

  “What I told you is all I know.” Matt took a swallow of his beer. “I didn’t even get a chance to talk to her.” He looked at Dara. “I followed all of your suggestions to the letter. Even made all the arrangements for tonight. But she ran like her butt was on fire. What happened?”

  “Yes, Dara.” Brenna frowned. “What happened?”

  Dara took a sip of her drink and looked across the table at Matt. “I think I may have miscalculated a little.”

  “Miscalculated?” Matt’s eyebrows flew up nearly to his hairline, and a thread of anger twisted through him. “A little? What the hell does that mean?”

  “I know she’s been nursing the pain of your breakup all these years. I also know, because I’ve known Liz all my life, that the reason was because she was still in love with you. I was convinced a grand gesture, putting it all out there for the world to see, would show her how important she’s always been to you and that you admit to being a dork.”

  “Yeah, well.” He took another swallow of beer. “We see how well that worked out.”

  “She’s just afraid, Matt.” Dara reached across the table and touched his hand. “She’s afraid this is a knee-jerk reaction on your part because of your injury. That once you get past it and find a new focus for your life, she’ll be relegated to the backseat again.”

  Matt wanted to bang his head on the table. He really had no one to blame for this except his very own selfish, egotistical, arrogant self. He had to be the stupidest person in the world to have gotten himself upside down with Liz. But he had to fix it. He was getting desperate. He had the terrible feeling that if he didn’t fix this tonight, time would pass, and Liz would decide he wasn’t worth the effort and walk away from him, as he’d walked away from her.

  “When do you have to return the Cup?” Dara asked.

  “Tomorrow morning. The team has someone in the area who’s going to pick it up.” He raked his fingers through his hair. How had it all turned to shit like this? “Okay, Dara. Tell me what to do next? Should I go after her? Is she still at the hotel, or has she already gotten into a cab?”

  She pulled out her phone and typed a text. In a minute, it chimed with a response. “She’s still at The Menger. Believe it or not, she’s sitting in the bar. She says she decided to get drunk before she goes home.” She looked at Matt. “If she really didn’t care, she’d be home already and plopped in front of the television with a bag of chips.”

  “Well, that’s something. I should go over there and try to talk to her.”

  Dara shook her head. “Remember this morning I told you Liz is a romantic? That she loves romantic gestures?”

  He nodded. “I thought the television thing was plenty romantic.”

  Brenna snorted. “Spectacular, maybe. Attention getting for sure, but hardly romantic.”

  “Well, I’d better come up with something quick before she really does go home.”

  “Let me think a minute.” She sipped her drink and scrunched her eyebrows together. “Okay, how’s this, you guys? Matt, what we worked out is plenty romantic. It just needs to be tweaked. We’ll just move things around a little. Brenna, you can help with this, okay? We have to do a lot in a very few minutes.”

  “And someone has to keep an eye on The Menger to make sure she doesn’t do a Houdini and disappear on us.”

  “I’ll do it,” Brenna volunteered. “Anything to get that hangdog look off his face. Besides, if this all falls apart, there’ll be no living with him.”

  Liz sat in a corner of the dark bar at The Menger sipping her margarita. She had started toward the valet stand in the garage to ask them to whistle up a cab for her but decided she didn’t want to go home by herself. She was trying to decide if she was being stupid or smart here. True, Matt had put himself out there for all the world to see. If he didn’t get it right this time, hundreds of thousands of people would know about it. Women would be disillusioned by him, and men would be pissed because their women were disappointed.

  She wanted so badly to give him this chance, but that little thread of fear still wiggled its way through her. Could she really trust him?

  Through the glass in the outside door, she watched the crowd hanging out in front of the Alamo, kids playing, couples walking hand in hand.

  I want to be one of those couples. But I’m afraid.

  And there it was. If she moved forward with Matt, she was terrified this was just a spur of the moment thing for him, a reaction to the end of his career. When new opportunities presented themselves, he’d be off like a shot.

  He loves you.

  But how do I know that?

  She was giving herself a headache.

  She had just signaled the bartender for another margarita when a large figure blocked the light coming in through the side door. She blinked, trying to adjust to the darkness when the figure moved to her table. The man was unfamiliar, but he wore breeches, a dress coat with tails, a vest and white shirt, and a top hat, which he swept off as he bent at the waist in a gentleman’s bow.

  “Miss St. John?”

  Liz stared at him and thought, What the hell?

  “Uh, yes. That’s me.”

  He extended his free hand that held a single red rose. “For you, Miss St. John. A single red rose symbolizes eternal love, as the Scottish poet Robert Burns wrote.”

  Liz looked at the rose and at him, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

  “Uh…”

  “Please take it.” He smiled. “It’s given with the full pledge of eternity behind it.”

  She reached out and took it, careful not to prick her fingers on the thorns.

  “Your carriage is waiting, senorita.” He held a hand out to her again. “Please. Come with me.”

  She blinked, wondering if this was an apparition that would disappear, or a hallucination conjured up by her two margaritas.

  “Go on,” the woman at the end table told her. “If someone sent a carriage for me, I’d already be in it.”

  “Yeah, go on,”
another woman called out. “Someone must really have the hots for you to go to this trouble.”

  Liz looked down at her glass. “Um, I need to pay for my drink.”

  “That’s been handled. Come. Your ride is ready.”

  Oh, she’d regret this later, but unable to stifle her curiosity, Liz took his hand and let him lead her out of the bar. Sure enough, waiting at the curb was one of the famous open carriages that plied their trade in Alamo Plaza. This one was white with red velvet seats. A large horse with a shiny ebony coat stood obediently in place, waiting for its passenger. Bells were attached to the horse’s bridle along with one red rose near his left ear.

  Liz looked around. People hanging out in the plaza, resting against the low stone wall or eating ice cream, watched with normal curiosity.

  “Am I the only passenger?” she asked.

  “For the moment.” The man smiled, bringing into play the laugh lines around his mouth and eyes. “Shall we?”

  He held his hand out again. With more than a few misgivings, Liz again accepted his hand and let him help her into the padded seat. She frowned at the envelope lying there.

  “I think someone left this for you.” She tried to give it to the driver.

  “Oh, no, senorita. That is for you.”

  Frowning, she opened the envelope and took out a plain white sheet of paper.

  The journey of a lifetime begins with one small step, or, in this case, a ride in a buggy. I hope you will take this journey with me.

  Matt

  Liz held the note against her breasts. Lord, the guy was pulling out all the stops.

  Just then, the driver, who had climbed up on his high seat, flicked his reins and clicked his tongue, and the horse began to move at a slow, steady gait. She looked around for Matt, but he didn’t seem to be anywhere around. Was he hiding? Waiting to make sure she actually took the ride and read his note?

  They paraded slowly around the circle that was Alamo Plaza and out onto the road. Liz frowned. She knew the carriages traveled the side streets, but they didn’t usually go out into the main stream of traffic. Where were they going?

  Her question was answered shortly when they pulled up to the curb and stopped right by a set of stairs leading down to the famous Riverwalk. She loved the Riverwalk, with its colorful shops and restaurants, its laughing crowds of people and, best of all, the band of mariachis. Nearly ten years ago, she and Matt had eaten dinner there, outside under a colorful umbrella. She had told him then she thought it was one of the most romantic places in the world. Had he remembered all this time?

  While the well-trained horse waited patiently, the driver climbed down and helped her alight from the carriage.

  “Be sure to take your rose and the note,” he reminded her.

  “But where do I go from here?” Again she looked for Matt and didn’t see him anywhere.

  “Your next escort awaits you.” He gestured to a man in a white shirt, fringed bolero, and black pants, standing on the top step.

  “For you, senorita.” He smiled and handed her another envelope.

  She opened it and read the second note.

  Follow the stairs. They could lead the way to a future filled with dreams and love.

  Matt

  She didn’t know if he was writing these notes himself or if someone was helping him, but she had to blink back a tear. She hadn’t known he was capable of such romantic ideas.

  “This way, senorita.” The man held her hand as he led her down the stairs to the walkway bordering the narrow San Antonio River. The early evening crowd was in full swing, the pathway filled with couples and families and groups of friends. She held tightly to her escort’s hand as he guided her along the walkway to the restaurant where she and Matt had eaten that time. He led her to a table right at the river’s edge, shielded by a big multi-colored umbrella.

  Liz looked around again and still did not see Matt, but, suddenly, a light went on in her brain. Holy crap! He’d actually remembered that scene from long ago. Apparently, he was determined to show her he’d grown up, matured, realized what he’d lost when he walked away from her.

  And the notes, still clutched in her hand along with the single rose. Really?

  Oh. My. God.

  A little shiver raced over her spine.

  “Right here, senorita,” the man said, and nodded to the hostess at the outside stand.

  In what seemed like seconds, an icy cold margarita was set in front of her along with a basket of chips and queso. She had just taken a sip to steady herself when the famous mariachi band that played along the riverfront moved into place beside her table. The man she assumed was the leader stepped forward.

  “Buenas noches, senorita. It is our pleasure to play for you a song we have been told is your favorite.”

  He struck a chord on his guitar, nodded to the others, and they launched into a full mariachi rendition of “Siboney.” The mariachis had played it for a couple the night she and Matt had eaten here, and she’d fallen in love with both the music and the lyrics. It told the story of a man madly in love with a woman, a man who says without her his life is nothing.

  They sang the lyrics first in Spanish then in English. When they reached the final stanza, “You alone are that person who owns all my love,” the line of mariachis parted and Matt came forward. On the final note, he went down on one knee and took her hand in his.

  By now, she had tears running down her cheeks, and her whole body was shaking. He’d really remembered, after all this time. Oh. My. God.

  “It’s true, Liz, what that song says. You own every bit of my heart. You have all of my love. Travel with me on the journey of life, and I promise to make you happy every day.”

  Someone stuck their hands through the group and passed the Cup to him. He placed it next to him, with one hand on the rim of the bowl.

  “I swear on the Cup I will love you forever. Winning this trophy was spectacular, but it means nothing without you. Please, Liz. Give me a chance. I promise you’ll never regret it.”

  He reached inside the Cup and pulled out a small jeweler’s box. When he opened it, the last rays of the sun hit the large emerald cut diamond in a simple setting. Matt folded his hand around hers.

  “Please, Liz. Marry me, and I promise you’ll never regret it. I will love and worship you for the rest of my days.”

  “If you don’t take him, I will,” a woman at the next table hollered.

  “Or me,” someone else chimed in.

  Pretty soon, there was a whole chorus of voices.

  “His heart is in his eyes, senorita,” the mariachi leader said.

  Liz looked around. Everyone at the nearby tables was watching with avid curiosity. Even the waitstaff had their eyes glued to the scene. And off to the side, trying to hide behind the gathering crowd, she spotted Brenna and Dara, anxiously chewing their nails.

  She burst out laughing. She couldn’t help herself. And took that first step on the journey for the rest of her life.

  “Yes. Yes, yes, yes.” She laughed again. “I think if I say no, all these people will lynch me.” She looked at a table full of woman focused on the scene. “Besides, there are too many women who’d snap you up.”

  Relief washed over his face. He stood, lifted her from the chair, and swung her around, his arms tight around her. “Oh, god. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  She looked him directly in the eye. “But you’d better mean it, buster. Or else.”

  “Lizzie, I more than mean it.” When she started to say something, he added, “Sorry. I can’t help it. You’ll always be Lizzie to me.”

  He reached for her left hand and slid the gorgeous ring onto her finger. Then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her with a heat she felt clear to the soles of her feet.

  12

  Liz stood in the living room of Matt’s condo, looking around while he turned on some lamps. It was totally masculine, a wide-open design where living room, dining room, and kitchen all flowed into each oth
er. The colors were basic blue and white. She was sure he hadn’t given a lot of thought to decorating and wondered if Brenna had helped him with the furniture.

  Matt saw her taking it all in and gave a slight sound of self-deprecation.

  “I haven’t spent a lot of time fixing the place up. Sorry.”

  “Oh, no. It looks…”She searched for a word. “Nice.”

  He gave a rough laugh. “I guess I’ve paid as little attention to this as to everything else personal in my life.” He took her hands in his. “But I plan to do a lot better job from here on in.”

  “I know you will.”

  “In fact.” He stopped, and locked his gaze with hers. “In fact, I’m hoping maybe this is something you can help me with. Hell, if you don’t like it, I’ll sell it and buy something else. This should be our choice together, Liz. A place that is both of us.”

  “I’m not fussy,” she told him. “Truly.”

  He shook his head then took off his jacket and threw it on the couch before drawing her into his arms.

  “I’m not making any more mistakes where you’re concerned. Liz, I can’t believe how selfish I was, thinking you’d still be hanging around when I caught the brass ring. Today, while I was putting everything together, I realized how much better it would have been, how much more meaningful, if you had shared the journey with me.”

  “But what’s important,” she told him, “is that you know it now. Matt, I never would have gotten in the way of your dream. I hope you know that.”

  “I do. Now. And I’m going to spend the rest of our lives together making up to you for my idiocy.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “I was afraid I’d never get to hold you again. Never get to touch you, kiss you.”

  Her lips curved in a tiny smile. “Maybe you should stop talking, then, and get to it.”

  He answered her smile with a wide grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

  He cupped her cheeks with his hands and pressed his mouth to hers, gently at first, then more persistent. His tongue traced the seam of her lips before pressing insistently for her to open. When she did, his tongue swept in, hot and wet and demanding, licking every bit of sensitive flesh and coaxing her own tongue to dance with his.