Hot on Ice: A Hockey Romance Anthology

by Avery Flynn

  Joking about it was easier than admitting he screwed up. “So she’s chosen not to see the finer details.”

  “Women.” Jax cocked his head. “Can I call her names now?”

  Ford grinned. “Nope. She’s still my girl, she just needs to come around to the idea.”

  “Jesus, you were always so stubborn. Practice would be over, and you’d still be out there running drills because you had to get it perfect.”

  “Had to keep up with the two of you.”

  “We didn’t make it easy on ya, kid.” Jax took a slug of his Coke and then a breath that even Ford could hear shuddering. Ah, shit, here it comes. “I fucked up, Fordie. That night. Every night after. Yeah, Paulie was the one celebrating, but I should have stayed sober to look after you both.”

  Ford shook his head. “This isn’t about us switching up the blame, bro. Mistakes were made, and I’m not asking for you to step up and take that burden on. Christ knows we’ve both suffered, even more because we couldn’t weather this together. I’ve fuckin’ missed you, is all.”

  Jax took another draft because hell, that was pretty heavy. “I’ve missed you, too. I’ve missed pushing you around. And I’ve missed the game.”

  “So. You’ve missed violence and hockey.”

  Jax’s mouth stretched into the smile Ford had missed with a raw ache. “Inseparable. And I did list you first.”

  They laughed at that, probably louder than it deserved, but they needed to reset, and an overdone guffaw was as good as any. Neither of them were huggers or talkers, after all.

  Ford’s phone rang, which was perfect timing. Getting a touch sugary there.

  It was his agent. “Gotta take this.”

  Five minutes later, he emerged from the bedroom, not quite believing what he’d heard. Jax was finishing up a phone call and by the low murmurs, it sounded like it was Marcy.

  “You fill her in?”

  Jax nodded. “She’s relieved we’re on the same wavelength again. And she wants me to get her some beignets.”

  Priorities, Marcy had ’em. “You’re staying for a while, though, right?”

  “Just one night. All I could swing from work. I hear the food’s good in this town.”

  “Yeah, it is.” He thought back to the conversation he’d just had with Tommy. “And I’m gonna need your advice about something. Something big.”

  14

  Ford laid the pen down on the mahogany table and took another look at the signature, the last one in a stack of papers. He’d finally finished what he’d started when he walked into Michael Babineaux’s office less than a month ago. He’d completely fucked his career.

  His agent, Tommy, coughed beside him, and Ford raised his gaze to meet the expectant expressions of the suits across the table. Representatives of the Chicago Rebels, second worst team in the league.

  And he was now their star right winger.

  Clifford Chase, the maverick owner had passed away suddenly ten days ago and his daughter Harper was sitting in on the signing, along with Brian Rennie, the Rebels’ General Manager, and Kenneth Bailey, the team’s lawyer.

  The lawyer quickly snatched the signed contracts from under Ford’s nose, probably worried buyer’s remorse would kick in and Ford would decide tearing up those legal documents was better than saddling himself with a losing team. The Rebels now had a world-class, Cup-winning player. Apparently saner minds had prevailed, largely down to his agent playing tough and earning his ten percent. Ford wasn’t quite sure how Tommy had pulled it off, but it was a decent deal, all considered.

  He’d be lying if he said the chance to be in the same city as Addison didn’t enter the equation as well.

  The suits rose, everyone shook hands, and they all headed for the exit, the mood somber because the organization had recently lost one of their own.

  “Ford, could you wait a moment?” Harper asked.

  Ford nodded his okay at Tommy who shot him a look of no more career-changing heart-to-hearts with management, please. Alone with Harper, Ford turned around to find her eyeing him speculatively.

  “Sorry about your father, Harper.”

  She nodded, though he’d venture to say she didn’t look overly upset. Her contentious relationship with Chase was well-known in the league.

  She leaned against the table. “Welcome to the team?”

  “You know why I did it.”

  She smiled regally. “Yeah, I know. What I also know is you had choices and the Rebels would be considered the last team you should have gone for. But let’s not forget that you did put this ride in motion all by yourself. What the hell did you think was going to happen? That Michael would give his blessing to the young stud putting it to his ex-wife?”

  “I thought we could be adults about it,” he said for the fiftieth fucking time.

  She shook her head. “That’s pretty cute, Callaghan. No wonder Addy fell for you.”

  Fell for him? Maybe, for a moment in time. But she picked herself right back up pretty quickly. Dusted herself off even quicker.

  “How is she?”

  “Oh, fine. Busy settling into her new place, kicking satin-covered ass.” Hard as nails, this woman betrayed nothing in those green eyes of hers. “I think you’re going to find Chicago much better suited to your particular style, Killer. We like people who leave it all out there on the ice. People who give one-hundred-fifty percent, and play with their hearts as well as their sticks. I need that this year. I need you.”

  Heart was not the problem. He’d always led with it—though Jax would call this decision dick-led all the way—and his dumb heart-dick pumped blood through the veins of a born-to-score hockey player. He’d make the best of it because that’s what he had always done.

  She looked at her phone. “Now would you mind waiting here a second? I need to grab something for you.”

  “Sure.”

  She click-clacked out, all five-feet nothing of her. Ford had wondered how a woman would fare in the cutthroat world of hockey. It looked like he might have underestimated Harper Chase.

  “Ford?”

  He whipped around at the sound of a new voice. Her voice, the one that seduced him in the dark all those weeks ago and still had the power to make him lose his mind.

  She was here. His Addy.

  “Got a minute?”

  Did he. He had his whole life ahead of him, and at least the next two years of it in Chicago.

  The month since he’d seen her last had only made her more sublime, but she also looked nervous, which was strange on her. This woman had strutted down catwalks, bared her beautiful body to the world, and for some reason she was nervous.

  “How’ve you been?” he asked because even though he wanted to get to the good—or bad—stuff, he needed more time to enjoy the novelty of seeing her a little longer.

  “I wanted to apologize for what happened a couple of weeks ago. I said some things I shouldn’t have.”

  “No, sweetheart, I should be apologizing. I pretty much decided that I was going to out a relationship we’d barely scratched the surface of. Addy, I don’t regret staking my claim, but I do regret how I went about it. I’ve spent years being dishonest with myself and holding in my feelings instead of having it out with my family. I didn’t want that for us. I wanted us to start off on the right foot.” He shook his head. “And then I go and put that foot in my mouth.”

  “I know you meant well but for the last eighteen months I’ve been trying to live life on my own terms, without falling under the thumb of a man. I’m done with all of that. I make my own decisions.”

  Ah, fuck. So she’d just come here to ream him out on being an overbearing alpha dick. Fair enough.

  “I hear you, Addy. I thought—hell, I thought I was being all mature about it.”

  “Michael doesn’t do mature.”

  “Yeah, I’m getting that.”

  Anger flitted across her face and she started pacing. “You completely risked screwing your career, Ford. Even Harper said so. A
nd then Michael confirmed he wanted to destroy you when I talked to him.”

  His heart jerked. “You talked to him?”

  She stopped treading a rut in the carpet. “Of course I did. And I may have . . .” She hesitated and he took a few steps toward her.

  “You may have what?”

  “I may have persuaded him to trade you.”

  Ford did not like the sound of that. “Persuaded him? How, Addy?”

  “Let’s just say that Michael is not as squeaky clean as he likes to present. Nothing too shady, but I exercised marital privilege 101 and told him if he couldn’t be an adult about it and play you, then he needed to trade you to the best team that offered for you. But not for one second did I think the Rebels were in with a chance. You were supposed to go to a decent team, Ford. Like Philly or New York.”

  Tommy had been surprised at the range of offers, too, though his agent had definitely taken a lot more credit for this that the little prick deserved. Babineaux wants to see the back of you, and he’s willing to give you to a top-shelf team. Then thirty seconds later, you’re going where?

  “I chose Chicago. I chose the Rebels.”

  She faced him, vulnerability in the set of her chin. Hesitancy ruled her expression, doubt that she might not receive a good reception when he’d been aching for her forever.

  “My family’s here, so it’s not a terrible move. Those two years would be time well spent reconnecting with my brother and making sure my nephews don’t pick up any bad habits on the ice.”

  “How are things with Jackson?”

  “We talked.” He felt a grin tugging at his lips at the memory. “Well, he came to see me in New Orleans and we grunted companionably. All good, and it’ll only get better now that I’m here.”

  Her nod was slow, her swallow audible. “I’m glad there’s a silver lining.”

  “I’d say there’s probably more than that, Addy.”

  Her gaze snapped to his. “There is?”

  “I’d have thought there’s a lace-trimmed pair of designer panties waiting at the end of this rainbow.”

  A smile teased the corner of her mouth. “Is rainbow your dick in this euphemism?”

  “No. It’s the brightness after the storm. I might have hoped that once I was here we could start over. You and me.”

  “Ford.” Her voice was filled with wonder, her eyes welling with emotion. “Did you really turn down other teams to give us a shot?”

  He did, but at its heart, there had been no choice. And there was something about the underdog nature of working with the Rebels that appealed to him. The Rajuns had their Cinderella run last year—maybe he could bring some of that magic to the second worst franchise in the league. Coupled with his family situation and the prospect of a relationship with a woman like Addy, it made for an adventure he was happy to ride out.

  “There you go again,” she said, swiping at her eyes, “making another decision without consulting me. I used the dirt I had on my ex to undo the damage you had done and you go ahead and ruin it . . .”

  “Addy, don’t cry. My heart shrivels to nothing when you cry.” He pulled her into his arms, the only way he could think to bring his heart back to life. She fit just right, but then she had from the start. That voice of hers, that strength of character, the missing puzzle piece in his life.

  “That’s twice now, you idiot,” she said, sniffling. “Twice you’ve screwed yourself. You suck at winning, Ford Callaghan.”

  “Good thing I’m amazing in the sack.” He cupped her neck, using his thumb to wipe away her tears. Her bottom lip was like a perfect little pillow, and he ghosted a soft finger pad over it, loving this feeling of closeness. Of holding her against him and comforting her as she’d done for him so many times already.

  “I love that you did that for me,” he murmured against her soft hair. “I love that you approached this man you could probably do without seeing or talking to ever again and went to bat for me. And I’m sorry I ruined your plan to land me in another city, far away from the woman I’m crazy about. But, you see, I think I knew I was sealing my fate the minute I walked into his office. I think a part of me had already decided that making the ultimate play for the woman of my dreams was how I wanted to be remembered.”

  Winning Addy was how he wanted to be remembered.

  “You’re not sorry at all.”

  “Hard to be sorry when I’m holding you close enough to feel your heart beating in tune with mine.” He wandered his hand to the beautiful curve of her ass and pulled her close. “Now, we’re going to date, Addison Williams.”

  “Okay.”

  “Dinners, movies, the works. Out in the open, no more hiding in the shadows. I’m proud you’re mine, and I want everyone to know.”

  Her teary smile felled him. Dead, keeled over, not getting up.

  “I think I’m going to enjoy having a hot stud-trophy on my arm, Callaghan. A boy toy who makes me look good.”

  He’d happily take on that job. Every skill on his résumé was designed with pleasing her in mind.

  “I was born to make you look good, Addy. Now how about you welcome me to Chicago properly?”

  She sniffed again, but this time he heard humor and acceptance in it. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Give me your mouth, sweetheart.”

  And then she kissed him like he was oxygen and she was dying to breathe, and he knew, God he knew, that he was in the right place at last. With the right woman and a future he couldn’t wait to begin.

  When he let her up for air, he whispered, “I reckon your ex did me a massive favor.”

  She smiled against his mouth. “Oh, yeah?”

  “The guy might have dumped me with the second-worst team in the league, but he landed me in the same city as the hottest woman on the planet.”

  She laughed. “Praise my ex.”

  “Praise your freakin’ ex.”

  Epilogue

  Two months later…

  Addison checked her reflection in the streaky mirror behind the bar at Jimmy’s Tap. Good enough. While she recognized she still had an image to maintain as the face and body of Beautiful by Addison, it was a relief not to be so beholden to other people’s expectations of her. The only person she needed to stay sexy for was the man walking into the bar this very moment.

  “Surprise!” A roar went up from the crowd on seeing Ford, star right winger for the Chicago Rebels. He turned to Jax beside him with a look of what the fuck before breaking out into that big, goofy smile she loved. The birthday boy—twenty-seven years old today—shook hands and accepted back pats on his stride to where she leaned against the bar.

  “Happy birthday, Callaghan,” she said, throwing her arms around him.

  Molding herself to his solidity was both grounding and exhilarating. For a boy toy six years younger than her old bones—though Ford liked to insist it was closer to five and a half—he was definitely the mature one in this relationship.

  “You have anything to do with this, Bright Eyes?”

  She shrugged. “I might have. And your sister-in-law is a force to be reckoned with.”

  “Needs to be, married to a Callaghan.”

  The last two months had been amazing with Ford at her side and in her bed. The Rebels’ season had gotten off to a rocky start but Harper was taking charge with new acquisitions, one of whom had just walked up to them.

  “DuPre,” Ford said, smiling at Remy DuPre, the latest addition to the Rebels’ offense. Dubbed “the Unluckiest Guy in the League” because of how close he’d come to the Cup with no cigar, the Louisiana native cut a compellingly rugged figure with his lived-in face, broad shoulders, and a frame more suited to a linebacker.

  Not that she had eyes for anyone but Ford. Still, Remy had undeniable ice-appeal.

  Ford shook hands with Remy. “Have you met my Addy?” The pride in his voice melted Addison’s knees. My Addy. And oh how she was. Completely, without question.

  Remy shook Addison’s hand. “Ain
’t had the pleasure, chérie.” He raised it and kissed her knuckles, adding a cheeky wink.

  Addison laughed. “Oh, it’s all true, then.”

  “What is?”

  “That Southern charm that gets the ladies warm.” She drew her hand back and fanned her face. “My, my, Mr. DuPre, have pity on my sensibilities.”

  “No quarter given, not where a pretty lady is concerned.”

  “Told ya he was trouble,” Ford said easily, with no machismo or jealousy. She loved how sure he was of himself and of her love for him. So different from Michael.

  “Oh, babe, there’s Harper. I’ll be back in a second.” Leaving him with the kind of kiss that would keep his desire burning in her absence, Addison moved off toward the bar’s entrance, but not before she heard Remy ask Ford how he managed to land a quality woman like Addison.

  Ford’s response followed in her wake and hugged her heart. “I ask myself that question every fuckin’ day. She’s something, isn’t she?”

  Damn straight, she was something.

  Addison reached Harper who had just parted ways with her “date” for the evening, Kenneth Bailey. Valiantly and ever useful, he tried cutting a path through the mass of ice-honed muscle to get Harper a drink at the bar.

  After a brief hug, Addison stated with not a little coyness, “So. Kenneth.”

  “What about him?”

  Addison raised an eyebrow, though she had nothing on Harper’s favorite method of communication.

  “Don’t give me that eyebrow of disapproval, Addy Williams. I practically dislocated mine when you hooked up with Callaghan.”

  “Which is why I’m being a good friend now. I know you’re not sleeping with him. And I can’t believe he’s still hanging on your arm.”

  “So men only stick around if the dangling carrot of sex is in play?”

  Addy cocked a hip. “You’ve had him on a string for a year, Harper.”

  “Kenneth knows the score. I’ve told him I’m not interested in a relationship right now, and we’re happy to be each other’s plus-one for various events. No expectations, no complications.”