Hot on Ice: A Hockey Romance Anthology

by Avery Flynn

  She was running, tugging Stryker along with her. He was keeping up, probably moving at his version of a slow jog.

  Life just wasn’t fair. He didn’t look like roadkill after their romp in bed, and on the floor. She really needed a king-sized bed if she and Stryker were going to continue frolicking at her place, that and a larger water heater. Both of which sounded expensive.

  She slowed to a power walk once they were in view of the field because it was evident that she should have worn a sports bra for the game, even though the closest she ever came to the field was the scorekeeper’s table.

  She was never going to get her prep-work done before the game started, and then she would spend the entire game playing catch-up. She tugged her baseball cap down to hide her bedhead and wondered if her makeup survived the makeup sex.

  She’d never had makeup sex before, but Stryker’s brand made fighting almost appealing. She’d never want to repeat the emotional meltdown they’d gone through, but she wouldn’t be averse to other, less serious disagreements. Just the thought of it had her blood pumping.

  At their slower pace, Stryker threw his arm around her neck and pulled her close, shortening his stride to match hers. She looked up at him, wondering what he was doing.

  “It’s a preventative measure.”

  She must have had the question written on her face, but she didn’t understand the answer. “I’m lost.”

  He kissed her temple. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Explain, I’m not a woman who will put up with a guy pulling the don’t-worry-your-pretty-little-head-about-it card. It won’t fly with me.”

  “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.”

  “I’m well aware of the Benjamin Franklin quote, what I’m unaware of is just what you think you’re preventing.”

  “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “No, but I’m too curious to just let it go.”

  “Fine, you’ve got that just-got-fucked look about you and I want to make sure that every guy here knows who did the honors. That will keep them the hell away from you without me having to threaten anyone’s life.”

  “Oh my God!” She stopped in her tracks and rose onto her toes to stare him straight in the eyes. “Are all men pigs or is it just you?”

  He smiled wider than a kindergartener showing off his missing front tooth in a school picture. “We’re pretty much all pigs, but believe me, you’ll thank me for this later.”

  “Doubtful.” She took a deep breath. “Do I really look that bad?”

  “Cher, you think I meant you look bad? Are you nuts? You look like every guy’s fantasy. If you were to go out there on your own, you’d have the attention of every male within a half-mile radius.”

  “Exaggerate much?”

  “No, unfortunately, I don’t. Shit, you’ll see.”

  “Trish, there you are.”

  She turned to see Kenny rushing toward her, scorebook in hand. He stopped a few feet away, his eyes went wide, and he stared.

  Stryker pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her.

  “What do you need, Kenny?”

  He looked down at his hands holding the scorebook and remembered. “Right, I just came to tell you that we were about to send out a search party.” His gaze rose above her head and took a step back. “I filled in the line-up information since you were late. The Umpire’s here and he’s gonna start the clock so, okay, I’ll just leave this for you on the table.”

  She smiled, “Thanks, Kenny.”

  “Don’t encourage him.”

  She shook her head. “I think you’re all nuts.”

  “Fine, so indulge me.” He wrapped his arm around her and walked her right to the scorekeepers table before giving her a kiss—right there, in front of God and everyone. Hell, in front of the reporters too.

  Karma ran up. “Finally, you’re here. Nothing like cutting it close. I hope it was worth it.”

  Trish kept her head down trying to hide her blush. “It was. Did you need something?”

  “Other than my star player? No.”

  “Why were the press invited?”

  “Because this is a charity softball game and we’re charging people to watch. And because it’s great marketing for Humpin’ Hannah’s of course.” Karma bent down to Trish’s level. “Do you want me to find someone to take over for you tonight? Are you going to have problems concentrating on Scorekeeping?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Are you sure? I wouldn’t blame you if you want to sit this one out and just watch.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  By the middle of the first inning, Trish knew she was in trouble. She’d never had a hard time concentrating on scorekeeping before, but then she’d never had Stryker on the team either. He was the only player she’d ever seen who was better than Jessie. She’d also never had the feeling that everyone in the stands was watching her. She’d always enjoyed virtual anonymity—that certainly wasn’t the case during this game. She wasn’t sure if she was being paranoid or if Stryker had been right. As much as she hated to admit it, an inordinate number of people came down to compare scorecards, offer her water or soda, or to run to the snack shack to get her food—something that had never happened before. The fact that they were all men doing the offering made it even worse.

  The game seemed interminable. After their win, Trish still had to verify the score with the Umpire and hand the scorebook over to the manager. Everyone was heading over to Humpin’ Hannah’s as usual. Of course, the crowd was larger tonight. She looked over at a bored Stryker. “Why don’t you grab a ride to Hannah’s? I’ll meet you there when I finish up.”

  He sat back in the flimsy folding chair like he didn’t have a care in the world. “No, I’ll wait.”

  “But everyone’s waiting for you.”

  “Let them wait. I’m not leaving you here on your own.”

  “I do this on my own every week.”

  “Not happening tonight, and it shouldn’t happen any other time either. I know this is Boise, but there are creepy assholes everywhere. Just ask Trapper, he can tell you some stories that will leave you sleeping with the lights on for a month.”

  “Thanks, I’ll pass.”

  “Yeah, but from now on, I’ll make sure someone is here to walk you to your car.”

  “You will, huh?”

  “Yup. I’ll talk to the Kincaids and make sure if I’m not here, one of them will be.”

  She didn’t know if she should be appreciative of the attention or pissed. Maybe a little bit of both. “I’m capable of finding my own escorts. You don’t need to talk to anyone on my behalf.”

  “Maybe I want to. You’re important to me. If I’m not here, I want to know someone has your back. The Kincaids think of you as a little sister—hell, at one time or another this afternoon, they all threatened to take me out if I didn’t treat you right. This way they’ll see I’m treating you right and we all can rest a little easier.”

  “You talked about me? To the Kincaids?”

  “No, they talked, I listened. It was enlightening. I didn’t know you skipped two grades.”

  “God, what did they do, pull out Kate’s photo albums?”

  “No, but they did mention one very eye-opening experience at Lucky Peak involving you in a swimsuit.”

  “God, kill me now.”

  12

  Stryker was nervous. He knew it was crazy. After all, Trish already told him she loved him, and he knew for a fact she was a god-awful liar, so he believed her. He patted the pocket carrying his phone which contained a confirmation email for a ticket in her name to fly to New Orleans with him tomorrow. It was a surprise.

  He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to surprise her or if he was afraid she wouldn’t want to go.

  He’d arranged everything with Mary Claire and Karma to cover her at work for a few more days. Karma even offered to pack a bag for her, but he thought that might be going overboard. He’d surprise her toni
ght, after Edwin and The Cup were on their way to wherever they were going. Yeah, that’s what he’d do. Maybe he’ll have Kevin make her one of his famous dirty martinis and let her drink it out of The Cup to loosen her up a little. Trish was a lot of things, but loose was not one of them.

  He blew out a breath and looked at The Cup sitting on Trish’s dining room table. It was surreal. They’d had a private barbecue the night before with all the Kincaids, Mary Claire and Jack, and Riley and his parents over at Joe Walsh’s place. It was a veritable mansion on top of one of the foothills—the place stuck out like a green thumb—literally, since it was the only foothill that was covered with grass and watered continuously. He supposed if you were the seventh richest man in the US, you didn’t worry about the water bill.

  Mary Claire, Trish, and Kate Kincaid planned the whole thing and it was a blast. Compared to some of the stories he’d heard about Cup parties, his was pretty low key. He’d sat back drinking a beer with Trish curled up against is side, and wondered if it was the fist time The cup had been used as an urn to hold a flower arrangement. Personally, he would have rather used it as a cooler for longnecks, but between him and the Kincaid men, no one seemed offended enough to mention it to the women. Joe Walsh, aka Grampa Joe, started to, but one look from Karma’s mom, Kate, had the old man shutting it down tighter than a duck’s arse. Yeah, they were all men’s men, so a few flowers weren’t going to push them over the edge, especially when they were surrounded by happy women.

  Riley thought he’d died and gone to heaven. He had more pictures of The Cup than even Stryker did. And as much as it killed him, Riley held to the superstition that a player shouldn’t touch The Cup until after his team wins it. Riley didn’t want to tempt fate because the kid fully intended to bring The Cup back to Boise one day in the not-too-distant future. Stryker saw the same drive in Riley’s eyes as he saw in his own every morning growing up—he wouldn’t be the one to bet against him.

  Trish walked over and curled up on his lap. “Where did your mind wander off to?”

  “I was just thinking about Riley. He swears he’s going to bring The Cup back to Boise when he’s my age.”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me. He has ten times the drive that every other kid on the team has. I really think they’re a gift.”

  “What?”

  “Learning disabilities.”

  “Yeah, if that’s true, I want to return them for full refund.”

  She pushed his shoulder. “Come on, at least hear me out.”

  “Okay, go for it.”

  “I’ve been tutoring kids with learning disabilities since, well, you. But I work with a lot of kids who are ‘normal’ too. The kids with the disabilities—not all, but I’d say ninety-five percent of them—have a drive, a super focus, that, as they mature, can last hours when it comes to things they love. They also have an innate sense of their own personal value, and the value of others that I’ve never seen in a kid who doesn’t have any struggles. I’m a firm believer that, if learning disabled kids are given what they need to succeed, they can go far beyond what most normal people can only dream of. You’re a perfect example.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “Of course I do. Learning disabilities are as much of a gift as they are a disadvantage. Learning disabled people are so much more creative when it comes to learning—they see the world differently, they question everything. If they can’t do something one way, they invariably figure out another way to get the job done. They have a laser focus I’ve never seen in anyone without some kind of disability. It’s honed from having to concentrate so hard on doing what, for others, are simple things, things they do without thinking, things like making sense of letters and numbers. Your learning disabilities have given you an amazing gift, and that gift is a large part of the reason you’re so spectacular on and off the ice.”

  He’d never thought of his learning disabilities in any way but the negative. But when Trish made her case, even he couldn’t deny it. If he had been ‘normal’ he might not be as strong in all the other kinds of intelligence she told him about. He might be able to read faster, and wouldn’t have to concentrate so hard on writing—but he gets the job done despite his disabilities. The things that make him the man he is have very little to do with his ability to read and write, they’re his gifts. His laser focus, his ability to anticipate where a puck will be and exactly how hard to hit it, the way he can see a player and know which way he’ll turn almost before he does. And, now that he’d matured a little, the way he can read people and situations that seem lost on so many. Yeah, maybe he might just keep them after all. Now that he thought about it, maybe it would be boring to be normal.

  “What’s the verdict?” Trish was watching him and he wondered what she saw.

  “You might be right. I’ve never looked at my learning disabilities from that perspective.”

  The was a knock on the door and he knew his time with Trish and The Cup was almost over. Until the next win. Which he wouldn’t mind, just to relive making love to Trish in the shadow of The Cup. He slid from beneath her and set her on the chair before answering the door. Edwin Motz stood there squinting through his glasses and doing his best to look past Stryker to find The Cup. “Are you ready to take The Cup to its final destination in Boise?”

  “Yes, we’re ready. I hope you can hold your liquor, Edwin. Karma pours a mean drink.”

  Edwin had been to the barbecue last night so although the Kincaids had grown on him, he was not blind to Karma’s ways. For a guy with the vision of Mr. Magoo, he missed very little.

  “You remember Trish Reynolds.”

  “Yes. Thank you for sending the itinerary, it was very helpful and one of the most informative I’ve seen. I appreciate it. I trust you had a good night and morning?”

  “Yes, we have. I still can’t believe The Cup is here in my house. It’s surreal. I knew it was coming to Boise, and that we’d have it at Humpin’ Hannah’s, but never in my wildest dreams did I think it would be sitting on my dining room table.”

  Before Stryker knew it, he was walking through the door to Humpin’ Hannah’s, with Queen’s “We Are The Champions” playing, and carrying The Cup through a sea of Rajun jerseys.

  Karma proceeded to fill it up with beer and use it as a beer punch bowl.

  After knowing what The Cup had contained over the years, Stryker chose to drink his beer from the tap. He swore half the population of the Boise Valley showed up, he signed more pucks, jerseys, and pictures than he could count, which wasn’t really surprising. There were so many people, the Fire Department had someone at the door counting people coming in and going out so they didn’t go above maximum capacity.

  Edwin was parked next to the mannequin leaning against The Cup. It was an odd sight, but then maybe Stryker had one or two over his limit. He just wanted to go home and curl up with Trish.

  The band was blaring and Stryker had just about enough. He went in search of Karma to say goodbye.

  “Stryker, my favorite person in the whole world!”

  He pulled her into a hug. “We’re even now?”

  “Sure are. Thanks for holding up your end. You really have been a trooper.”

  “I never thought I would say this, but it’s been fun, and well, then there’s Trish. I never would have seen her if not for your deal making prowess.”

  “Right, just whatever you do, don’t hurt her, and don’t take her away from us. Boise is her home, we’re her family. We love her.”

  “We’ll figure it all out. I’m just going to take her down to NOLA for a few days, show her around, introduce her to some of my teammates. I have a feeling when I’m not playing I’ll be in Boise a lot.”

  “Good.”

  He was heading for the doors when two news crews came through. He smiled, “Man, you missed the party. The Cup is still here if you want to check it out, but I thought your station already did a spot earlier.”

  “Stryker, Chip Fontaine here from KGIM TV.
Do you have any comment about the investigative report that uncovered your severe learning disabilities?”

  Stryker didn’t think he heard them right. What the hell?

  “KGIM TV has acquired a report from an anonymous source containing your Individual Education Plan test scores. Experts say that someone with your low test scores would be unable to function in a college setting.”

  Trapper pushed through the crowd. “Stryker has no comment. You’re on private property, you need to leave.”

  “KGIM TV has learned that Trish Reynolds, of recent YouTube fame, was your college tutor-turned-girlfriend. Tell us, Stryker, did Trish Reynolds do more than tutor you? There’s been speculation that she took tests for you in exchange for sexual favors.”

  He pulled back to punch that little shit but both Trapper and Fisher jumped him, pulling him back just in time for Hunter to get in one good punch. It turned out that was all he needed, good ole Chip Fontaine had a glass jaw and was out cold.

  Trapper took a look around, “Fisher, you get Stryker out of here. I need to call the chief of police and deal with this. Get him out of here now.”

  Trish’s phone rang and woke her out of a dead sleep. She reached for Stryker but he wasn’t in bed. “Hello?”

  “Trish, Fisher is bringing Stryker home. It’s all over the news. That Chip whatshisname from KGIM surrounded him as he was leaving. They asked questions about his testing, his special ed stuff. I don’t know what it’s called. Then they put you two together in college, and accused you of taking his tests in exchange for sexual favors. They said they had an anonymous source.”

  “Is Stryker okay?”

  “Physically yeah, but he looks like he’s in shock or something. Trapper and Fisher got him out of here. Hunter clobbered the guy, you always were his favorite sister. So he’s on his way to the police station. I’m sure he’s going to have fun on the ride. He made them put the lights and sirens on. I don’t think he ever got past the cops and robbers stage. I’ll bail him out just as soon as I close down the bar. What I want to know is who the hell is the anonymous source?”