The Definition of Icing: A Dallas Demons Hockey Romance (Dallas Demons Series)

by Ellis, Aven

  “If you could put your number in there for me, I’ll text you in a bit and we’ll come up with a plan for this evening.”

  I take his phone and enter my phone number. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks,” Nate says, taking it back. Then he sighs. “Shit, I’ve got to get back out there and talk to people. But I’ll touch base with you when I get home. And read my messages from last night, will you?”

  Then Nate flashes me a brilliant smile and goes out the door.

  I take a moment to steady myself. Then in my head I completely lose it.

  Ahhhhhhhhhh! Nate asked me to dinner! I know he hasn’t promised anything, and the last thing I need is Nate distracting me from my business but—

  And this is a big, huge, dangerous but—

  But I really like him.

  I mean, I’ve only spent hours with him, and all of that with other people present, but there’s something about him that’s different. My heart tells me Nate might be the one to go deeper, well beyond the surface of me, and embrace everything I am on the inside. That this hockey player might want to know the real me: my flaws, my faults, my dorky habits, my deepest thoughts. That Nate might be the man to take me on and go where no one man has ever cared to go before.

  I leave the storage room, and I notice the song playing overhead is “Feel Again” by One Republic. Is that what could be on the verge of happening with Nate? That both of us—together—could allow our hearts to feel alive again?

  With the song swirling in my head and a sense of giddiness sweeping over me, I make my way back to the table where Amanda and Lexi are sitting with the kids.

  Both Amanda and Lexi quit talking and stare at me. I loop my straw tote over the back of my chair and sit down.

  “Well?” Lexi asks. “What happened?”

  I lean across the table and drop my voice. “Okay, I’m going to tell you, but you can’t react until we are in the car.”

  “Okay,” Amanda agrees.

  Lexi nods. “Yes. Agreed.”

  I draw a breath of air, and the words fly out in an excited rush. “He wants to take me out tonight.”

  Both of them smile, huge smiles, and I know it is all they can do not to scream in excitement.

  “I knew it,” Lexi says quietly, a grin spreading across her face.

  “Me too,” Amanda says, dropping her voice. “I could tell by the way he was looking at you.”

  I beam in response.

  “Oh Kenley, you’re wearing an I’ve-got-a-huge-crush-on-this-boy expression on your face right now,” Amanda teases.

  I feel my face burn for the millionth time this afternoon.

  Because I know Amanda is right.

  “The other thing he said was to check my Connectivity messages,” I say quietly. “Which will have to wait, because my phone is at home.”

  Suddenly two cell phones are sliding across the table toward me in rapid-fire quickness.

  “Now,” Amanda demands. “Check your account now.”

  I pick up Amanda’s phone and access her Connectivity app. Then I log myself in and sure enough, I have two new private messages.

  I go to my Private Connections folder and open it. And there are two messages from Nate:

  In your status, you didn’t say anything about my hot ass. Do I need to work harder on squats in the Demons’ weight room?

  I laugh. If I had read this last night, I would have spared myself a whole mess of anxiety today because he obviously took my status in stride. Then I read the second message Nate left me:

  Tomorrow I’m serving coffee at a charity event. The Roast and Grind from 2-4. It’ll be crazy with fans, but it would be great to see you, even if it’s brief.

  I glance up at Lexi and Amanda, stunned. “Nate invited me here last night.” I pass Amanda’s phone back to her so she can read the messages. She begins laughing and slides her phone over to Lexi.

  “Kenley, I swear you’re such a loon sometimes,” Amanda teases, taking a moment to tear up some blueberry muffin and put it on Bella’s tray.

  Bella lifts her chubby hand and whack—smashes the muffin into a blob on her tray, which results in squeals of delight.

  “Mommy, this is so good,” Claire exclaims, her head bobbing up and down as she puts another piece of muffin in her mouth.

  “I’m glad you like it, baby,” Amanda says, affectionately stroking her blond curls.

  “But all the drama you could have saved yourself,” Lexi says, drawing my attention back to our conversation. “And you could have saved your Italian stash of chocolate, too.”

  I laugh at myself. “I’m a mess, what can I say?”

  I glance across the coffeehouse at Nate behind the counter, and I wonder if he’s the guy who can take this mess on. Not only take me on, but embrace everything I am.

  I watch as he playfully touches a baby dressed in a Dallas Demons T-shirt, and I know I’m ready to take him on. I want to know what makes Nate tick. What his faults are. Who has hurt him in his past. I want to know what drove him to build this wall to protect himself.

  I want to see if I even have a chance of chipping through that defense system Nate has put up.

  Because even though he doesn’t know it, he’s tearing down mine.

  “This is, by far, the coolest place I’ve been in Dallas,” Nate exclaims. “Now I see why you wanted to come here tonight.”

  I grin at Nate. We’re at Stackhouse Burgers in Dallas for our date, seated at a little table on the rooftop patio of the restaurant. Trees surround us, and the buildings of the Dallas skyline emerge from them. We each have a glass of cabernet sauvignon in front of us, and it feels so incredibly right to bring Nate here.

  Because to me, this is the perfect place to get to know Nate better, over a couple of burgers and fries and in a casual setting. I want him to feel comfortable, and the truth be told, this is more my comfort zone than a fancy Dallas restaurant.

  And even with fans coming up to talk to Nate, or request a photo, I still feel relaxed. I know this is part of being with Nate, and I enjoy watching him with the Demons fans. He’s gracious, and I find his openness another attractive quality of his.

  After the last one walks away, I smile at Nate. “You’re very generous with your fans.”

  “I don’t mind,” Nate says easily. “But now it’s your time. So what made you pick this restaurant?”

  “I love the vibe of this place,” I say, smiling at Nate.

  “I do, too,” Nate agrees. Then he cocks an eyebrow at me. “And it has trees.”

  I burst out laughing. “Dallas has trees, Nate.”

  Nate shoots me a quizzical look. “Not serious ones.”

  “No, not Minnesota type ones,” I correct. “But there are plenty of things to love about being in Texas, regardless of our tree quality.”

  “I think I’m beginning to see that,” Nate says, picking up his wineglass and taking a sip, his eyes focused on me the whole time.

  I study him for a moment, appearing oh-so-sexy-casual in his white, long-sleeved linen shirt that he has pushed up to reveal half of his tattoo-sleeved arm. The whiteness of his shirt plays off his dark skin, and, oh, now he’s swirling the wine in his glass on the wood table top, and I swear everything the man does is sexy. I need to start talking before I lose it.

  But Nate beats me to the punch.

  “So you never did answer my Connectivity question about squats,” he says, a wicked smile passing over his face. “Do I need to do more?”

  I begin blushing, and he bursts out laughing.

  “Okay, I need to explain that whole message you saw,” I say.

  “No, no, you don’t,” Nate says, grinning. “I’m just teasing you.”

  “But I want to,” I say firmly. “If we�
�re going to get to know each other, really know each other, I want to be honest.” I take a breath before continuing because I have never been this open and honest with a man in my entire life. “I find you incredibly attractive.”

  I feel my face burn. I take another sip of my wine, wondering if being that honest with a man so early is a bad thing to be, but since Nate already had read what I thought, I can’t hide it.

  Nate takes in my words, and as he does, his fingers absently trail over his jawline, brushing over his stubble, and I want to touch his face so badly I might need to sit on my hands to refrain from doing so.

  “Well, good, because I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he says, matching my honesty with his own.

  My pulse leaps with his words. I’ve been called beautiful by men my entire life, but I have never wanted to hear those words more than I do from Nate.

  “And do you know what made you even sexier in my eyes?” Nate continues, “When you stood up to those idiots at Dallas Details and were willing to walk away from that shoot, advertising opportunity be damned, to keep your self-respect. That took serious guts.”

  My heart leaps inside my chest. Nate thinks I’m beautiful, but my strength made me sexier?

  “Really?” I ask, hardly believing the words.

  “You have a spine of steel, Kenley,” he says. “You’re strong. And that is one hell of an attractive quality to have as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Nobody has ever called me strong before,” I admit, my voice getting a little wobbly. I take a moment to clear my throat before continuing. “With men, they get stuck on beautiful. It’s hard for them to see past that.”

  “Maybe you haven’t met the right men before,” Nate says.

  “No, maybe I haven’t,” I say.

  Until now.

  A server comes up with our food. Because Nate is training, he opts for a burger with guacamole, no bun, and a side salad. I, on the other hand, completely indulge with my order of a cheeseburger with grilled jalapenos and sweet potato fries.

  “Okay, let’s see if you’re right about these being the best burgers ever,” Nate says, picking up his knife and fork.

  “I’m so right about this.” I eagerly pick up my cheeseburger and take a bite.

  “Did I say confidence is a turn-on for me, too?” Nate asks, cutting up his burger.

  I chew my burger. Mmmm, I never get sick of grilled jalapeno cheeseburgers. I try and think of a flirty reply for him.

  “Okay, in keeping with that theme, I declare my burger is infinitely better than yours because grilled jalapenos make everything awesome,” I tease.

  Nate flashes me a grin that makes my heart beat faster. “I’ll eagerly wait to see that turn up in a chocolate concoction then.”

  I laugh, and he does, too. Then Nate takes a bite of his food.

  “Oh, man, this is good,” he declares.

  “I told you,” I say happily, smiling at him.

  “But to answer your question,” Nate says, reaching for a napkin and wiping his face, “yes, I do like strong, confident women.”

  “Nate, can I ask you something?”

  “You can ask me anything,” Nate says, his eyes holding steady on mine. “I mean that.”

  “Okay,” I say, gathering up my courage. “So if I have all these qualities you want in a woman, why did you turn me down when I asked you to grab dinner?” I ask honestly, dunking a sweet potato fry in ketchup before popping it into my mouth.

  “Easy. You’re dangerous.”

  Confusion fills me. “Me? Dangerous? How so?”

  “You’re someone I could like.”

  Butterflies shift in my stomach, knowing that he felt the chemistry in our first meeting, too.

  “And I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that, when I swore I never wanted to feel that way again,” Nate explains. “That’s why I said no, Kenley. I said no because of exactly who you are. I know that makes no sense, but it’s the truth.”

  I sit very still. He’s opening up about what happened to him.

  “Nate, I know some woman hurt you,” I say gently. “I can see it in your eyes.”

  Nate hesitates for a moment. “You can see that?”

  “I see it because I’ve been there, too,” I admit. “I had my heart broken two years ago.”

  Nate takes a sip of his wine. “What idiot let you go?”

  “You don’t know all my flaws yet.”

  “I already know your biggest one,” Nate says, cocking an eyebrow at me. “You eat curry in chocolate. That not only makes you flawed, but weird.”

  I burst out laughing, and so does Nate.

  “No, that was before chocolate became my life,” I say.

  “Okay, this is BC—Before Chocolate,” Nate quips.

  I laugh. “Yes, BC.”

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asks. Then he puts his hand out. “I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

  I study his face, and I know I don’t know him, but my gut says I can trust Nate with my story. Some of which is embarrassing. Some things I should probably edit for a first date. But when I see Nate, I see someone with whom I want to share my truth with, the bad parts and all, and see if he still wants to see where this could go.

  I clear my throat before ripping the wound open on my painful past. “When I graduated from TCU, I went to work for an advertising/public relations agency in Dallas,” I say softly. “I was on the bottom rung of the PR ladder. I hated it, to be honest. It was so fake. Promote things you don’t believe in. Bill every single hour of your day to a client. Push for publicity for an uninspired product or brand and get ripped if you don’t produce results. I was miserable professionally.”

  Nate nods, urging me to continue.

  “And I realized it wasn’t the glamorous job I envisioned in college,” I explain. “But I knew this was my major, and I felt like I had to make this work. And the only thing that kept me wanting to walk in those doors every day was a guy named Chase.”

  “Ah I think the idiot has entered the picture,” Nate says, taking a bite of his salad.

  “Yes. Chase was a year older than me and worked in the media buying division. We would all go to happy hour after work, and I had a lot of guys in that office hitting on me, but Chase was never one of them, so that made him different.”

  “You’ve had to deal with that your whole life, haven’t you?” Nate interjects. “Guys coming at you because you’re beautiful.”

  “You’re so perceptive,” I say, surprised at how Nate gets me so well. “But yes. And people think it must be fantastic to have all this attention, but it’s the exact opposite for me. I don’t enjoy it at all.”

  “I get the same thing being a hockey player,” he explains. “I have girls sending me letters and social media messages saying they love me, and they’ve only seen me on TV. Or I’ll see the same girls show up at my practices and wait for me afterward. And I mean every single practice. Girls I’ve never spoken a word to and never will. It’s weird.”

  I suddenly realize Nate is the first person I’ve met who understands my reality, because he’s lived it himself.

  “It started when I was a teenager,” I admit. “And it was older men. Men who should know better. And guys in high school were just as bad—they only wanted to score. Nobody wanted to know me, you know? So I didn’t trust any man. I shut down emotionally and stayed that way, even through college.”

  “You were protecting yourself.”

  I nod. “Yes. And then I met Chase. I was 21. I—” I bite my lip, as this part is very personal. “I was still a virgin.”

  I watch Nate’s face to see if he thinks I’m a freak for that fact. Like if I have an issue with sex or am sexually repressed. But he’s sti
ll listening, his eyes locked on my face.

  “You seem embarrassed about that,” he says gently.

  Now I feel my cheeks grow warm. “Well, I am.”

  “Don’t be. You were protecting yourself. You wanted something real, and there’s no shame in that.”

  “Thank you. Anyway, here comes Chase. And at happy hour he’s sitting next to me, talking to me, laughing at my jokes. Not making a move, but listening to me, asking me questions, being interested in what I had to say. This went on for months, and finally he asked me out. Of course by this time I was totally into him because he was my friend first. I thought he liked me, for who I was. I thought he was real.”

  “But he wasn’t,” Nate says.

  I shake my head. “No. We slept together and shortly after it was all over the office that we had. I hadn’t told a soul except for Amanda and Lexi, so I knew it was him.”

  “He betrayed you,” Nate says, his eyes flashing.

  I nod. “Yes. But worst of all,” I say, swallowing as the humiliation comes back with force, “he told everyone that it took him six months of listening to me babble, of being bored out of his mind by me, but he finally slept with the hottest girl he had ever seen.”

  “Christ, are you serious?” Nate asks in disgust.

  “Yes,” I admit. “So after that, I was done. I was done with that agency, I was done with PR, and I was done with men.”

  “Kenley, I don’t even know what to say,” he says. “But Chase should have his fucking head bashed in for what he did to you. I have a younger sister, and let me assure you if some douchebag screwed with her like this, I’d unload on him like there was no tomorrow.”