Heat it Up: Off the Ice - Book One

by Stina Lindenblatt

  I remove my notepad and pen from my backpack. I jot a few things down and study my coaching notes. I hadn’t originally planned to become a coach. My goal had strictly been to play in the NHL. But once my little brother was old enough to strap on skates, I’d taken up the role of coach for his hockey teams. In the end, that had worked in my favor.

  I glance at the girl again. She ends her call and returns the phone to her backpack.

  Sensing she’s about to leave, I push myself up to stand. My leg stiffened in the short time I was sitting, and when she looks toward me the limb is back. Recognition hits and she blushes.

  “Hi, is it okay if I sit?” I gesture to the patch of grass next to her.

  She nods and goes back to watching the swan.

  “I’m sorry about what happened in the sauna. We didn’t realize it was closed.”

  She smiles, a light blush hitting her cheeks. It’s not a big smile, but it’s better than nothing. “That’s okay. I’m sorry I hurt you. You startled me…and…and I thought you were someone else.”

  “You didn’t hurt me.”

  She frowns. “But you were just limping.”

  “It’s nothing. My leg sometimes stiffens. Old childhood injury,” I add, hoping she gets the hint I don’t want to discuss it. I never do. “Who did you think we were when you blasted me with the water?”

  “Just some jerks who harassed me this morning while I was cleaning the men’s bathroom.” She scrunches her nose in a way that makes her looks adorable. “Today was my first day, and they thought it was entertaining that I don’t speak much Finnish. I guess I was a little tense when you and your friend came in.”

  “So how ’bout we start over. Hi, I’m Kyle.”

  “Sofia.” She glances at her phone and scrambles up. “I have to catch my bus.”

  For a second, I think she’s going to suggest we should get together sometime, maybe go for a coffee. But she doesn’t. She rushes off. No hesitation or deliberation.

  Like she never even considered it.

  Chapter Three

  Kyle

  We’re often faced with moments in our lives that we regret. It could be something as simple as buying the wrong toothpaste and hating the taste of it. It could be something bigger that changes our lives, sometimes for the better, mostly for the worst.

  Or sometimes it’s just waking up and realizing our mistakes from last night will haunt us for the rest of the day. I open my eyes and instantly recognize this is going to be one of those days. The bright light streaming into my room aggravates the pounding in my head. Shit.

  My stomach churns, reminding me that it’s dealing with the aftermath of last night, too. For now it feels somewhat stable, as long as I don’t move. I snap my eyes shut and try to will myself back to sleep. That way when I wake up again, my hangover will be gone. I don’t remember last night, and I’d rather not remember the after effects while I’m at it.

  Cool fingers trace along my back and slip under the sheet wrapped around my waist. Despite the pounding in my head, I vaguely remember the previous evening. I went out with Nik, my former NHL teammate. We drank. I tried to forget the past year. I tried to pretend the ache in my leg hadn’t worsened from an intensive day on the ice. And I tried to do what I promised my family I would do once I arrived in Finland: move on with my life.

  The hand moves over my hip. I turn so I can see the girl who I’d hoped would make that all possible, even for a few hours. The blurred vision, with chin-length black hair, leans over me. I twist back around, reach for my glasses on the bedside table, and put them on. Last night, the girl looked like a hot version of Snow White. The morning after version looks like she ate the poisoned apple. Her face is pale and makeup is smeared under her eyes—not in a good way.

  The good news, if you can call it that, is that we aren’t in my room. Not unless a tornado hit mine and deposited a mountain of fashion magazines and women’s clothing across the floor and furniture.

  “Hi,” Snow White purrs with a thick Finnish accent, and for a moment I’m tempted to close my eyes and see if she vanishes when I open them again. To see if I vanish to a new location, preferably my apartment. But something tells me that won’t work, no matter how much I wish for it.

  I stare at the ceiling, compounding my headache further as I struggle to remember what happened last night. I remember drinking. I remember playing pool and winning. I remember talking to my brother on my cell phone…

  “Fuck,” I mutter.

  Snow White scoots over and whispers in my ear, “Yes, please.” Her voice is the low murmur of seduction.

  “The energy of light per unit of time determines its intensity. And right now, the light shining through your blinds is carrying too much energy.”

  She blinks, having no idea what I said.

  “The light is bright and it’s fucking with my hangover.”

  Her confused expression slips away, to be replaced by the familiar ‘God, you’re weird.’

  “How did we get here?” I ask.

  “You don’t remember? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You were kind of drunk.” No shit. “Don’t worry. I drove.”

  “My car?”

  “No, my car. Yours is still at the nightclub. I can drive you back to get it if you want.”

  I push myself up to sit. My head argues that decision. It takes everything I have not to collapse back onto the bed. I check her alarm clock and groan. It’s already 11:24 a.m.

  “I need to go.” I scoot off the bed.

  She scrambles after me and grabs my arm. “Now? Can’t we have a shower first?” Though from the way she says it, it’s clear she’s hoping for more than just getting clean. If it weren’t for the hangover, and if I didn’t have to talk to Cody, I’d be all over the shower idea.

  “I have to be somewhere.” I snatch my underwear from the floor. “I can get a cab.”

  “No, I’ll drive you. Give me a second to get ready.” She returns dressed in jeans and a tank top, her face washed and with the same amount of makeup as before.

  She drives me back to the side street, lined with low-rise apartment buildings, where I left my rental car last night.

  “Did my friend drive home last night?” If I was drunk, Nik would have been, too. Whenever we drink together, we pretty much drink the same amount as each other, although his tolerance is slightly greater than mine, given that he’s about thirty pounds heavier.

  “No, my friend drove him and his car back to her place. Your friend wasn’t in any condition to drive. He wasn’t too happy about that, though. Kept claiming he was sober enough.”

  That doesn’t surprise me. It’s only when a drunk driver hits your vehicle, kills your wife, and fucks up your future does it alter your perception of things, and you’re less likely to lie to yourself about your state of inebriation. Nik wasn’t even the one who stood by my side while I recovered from the accident. And Nik wasn’t the one who encouraged me though every setback. That was entirely my family.

  But Nik’s the one who is there when I need to forget. He’s the one I can turn to when I need to escape from it all. Hell, he’s the one who gave me this opportunity in Finland to pull my life together.

  “Tell her thanks for not letting him be an ass and drive,” I say. “And thanks for not letting me drive and…and for last night.”

  “You’re welcome.” She hands me a pink scrap of paper with her name and phone number scrawled on it. “Call me.” She then leans over and kisses me on the cheek.

  “Okay,” I say, even though I have no intention of doing that. She’s nice and all, but I’m not interested in things going beyond a one-night stand.

  I climb out her of car and squeeze into mine, which wasn’t designed with my tall body in mind. None of the Finnish cars are—a fact my legs have grumbled about numerous times.

  I turn the engine as my cell phone rings. Cody. I cringe and answer it. “Hey, dude.” I attempt to mask the rough night that lingers in my voice—and fail.

/>   “What’s up?” my sixteen-year-old brother asks as I decrease the volume on the car stereo. I can barely hear the steady beat of the bass, for which my head is eternally grateful.

  “Not much.” I’m just heading home to sleep off this hangover. “What’s going on with you? You ready for hockey camp next week?”

  “Where were you last night?” His voice is rough, but not for the same reason as mine. He’s pissed. Beyond pissed.

  “I was out with friends,” I say casually, the opposite of how I feel.

  “You promised me. You said things would be different in Finland. But it’s still the same shit. Nothing’s changed.” Mom must not be home. Cody wouldn’t dare cuss in front of her.

  I drop my head back against the headrest and close my eyes. He’s right. That’s what I thought would happen when I got here. Nik had planned to come to Finland for the summer, to help with his uncle’s elite ice hockey training camp for boys. One of the coaches had backed out for personal issues and Nik convinced me to join him. His uncle was delighted to have another NHL player coach the teens, even if I was no longer able to play with the league because of my fucked-up leg. It was an offer I couldn’t say no to, even if my family had reservations about it. It’s great experience for my resume, something I need more of if I want to pursue a coaching career. It’s a break from the painful memories. It’s a timeout from my family’s ever-watchful eye.

  Who wouldn’t have jumped at the position?

  “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” I explain. “You just called me at a bad time last night.”

  “You went home with her, didn’t you?”

  “Who?” I say even though I have a good idea who he’s referring to.

  “The girl who answered your phone.”

  I’m not sure how to answer. Cody’s sixteen. He’s not an idiot. But I’m hardly going to admit I had sex with her.

  “I thought you loved Gabby,” he powers on.

  I squeeze my eyes shut against the pain that has nothing to do with the hangover. “I did love her. But she’s dead, Cody. Me not sleeping around won’t change that. She’s not coming back.”

  It’s not like I’m even fucking all those girls to dull the pain of losing my wife. Gabby and I got married when we were only twenty. An idiot move, really. I didn’t realize it at the time. I loved her, but I’m finally getting to do what I missed out on by settling down so young. And to hell if Cody thinks he can guilt me into becoming a saint or some born-again virgin.

  A raindrop splatters against the windshield. A sullen cloud I hadn’t noticed before darkens the sky.

  “I know it won’t bring her back,” Cody grumbles. The same hurt and distrust I’ve heard in his voice so many times, since my accidental overdose, darkens his tone.

  “Look, bro, I know I fucked up last year. But I promise it won’t happen again. I’m not on those drugs anymore.” I’m not on any drugs, other than the liquid kind. And even that I save for when I’m not coaching the next day. I’d rather put up with the pain than risk another accidental overdose, than risk being addicted to the drug, than risk showing up at work with an epic hangover. An asshole move like that could screw up my future career.

  “But you’re still hanging out with Nik,” Cody says.

  I glance down at my favorite t-shirt. The t-shirt that says: May the ∑F = ma be with you. The t-shirt that Nik complained last night looked like I was entering a math contest instead of hitting the clubs. “There’s nothing wrong with Nik.”

  “Dad says he’s a hotheaded ass who’s eager to milk the benefits of his fame.”

  Yeah, I do remember that conversation with Dad. I just didn’t realize Cody had overheard it. I cringe at what else he probably also overheard when Dad forgot I’m twenty-four and not ten years old, and tried to ground me so I didn’t come to Finland.

  “I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you, Kyle.” Cody’s voice cracks on the last part.

  I might not feel guilty about the women I’m screwing, but I do feel like shit after he says that. “I promise you nothing bad is going to happen to me while I’m here. And I promise I’ll be back home at the end of August. I wouldn’t miss watching you play for anything.” Even if it will tear me up inside knowing he’s the one who has a shot at making his NHL dreams come true, while I only get to watch from the sidelines. I’ll never again get to experience the euphoria of playing in the Stanley Cup playoffs. The dream of every hockey player.

  The answering silence is louder than the rain hammering the metal roof.

  He doesn’t believe me.

  I’m about to say something else, when I hear our father’s voice on Cody’s end. I can’t make out what he said, but I pray to a God I don’t believe in that Cody never mentioned anything to my father about what I was doing last night. I don’t need any more lectures. I need some coffee and a shower. In that order.

  “I have to go.” Cody ends the call without giving me a chance to say goodbye, and without giving me a chance to repeat my promise. A promise that now feels oddly empty.

  His disappointment at what I’ve become clings to me, but I’m too tired to think about it. I turn up the volume on the radio and pull away from my parking spot.

  Chapter Four

  Sofia

  I pack my wallet, laptop, and camera in my backpack, and head for the apartment door. “I’m going to The Coffee Bar,” I call out to the empty apartment. My grandmother has failed to join the twenty-first century. She doesn’t have a computer, let alone Internet. I swear, we must be the only apartment in the building without it.

  A loud knock on the door startles me. I open it and gape at the man in front of me—the man who looks like an actor from the soap The Endless Circle. The show is bigger in Finland than it is in the States, but Muumu and I bonded over it during my first day here. We both agree that the actor is hot.

  The guy’s short, spiky brown hair complements his warm brown eyes, and he has scruff along his jaw and upper lip. In a way, he’s similar to the guy from the sauna last week, except Kyle’s hair has waves and his eyes are light blue. This guy isn’t as tall or built like Kyle either, though he still looks in good shape. Nor does he wear glasses, unlike Kyle.

  And he’s standing in front of me with a bouquet of white, pink, and purple flowers.

  I scan the bright, airy hallway, searching for the TV crew. It’s a joke. It has to be. Like in those shows where the unsuspecting victim doesn’t realize she’s being pranked until it’s too late. Which means if it’s true, I won’t see the camera. I won’t know I’m being pranked until it’s over.

  The guy doesn’t say anything at first. He blinks like he can’t believe I’m standing here, like he was expecting someone else. “Hi, Sofia? I’m your date,” actor dude says with a strong Finnish accent. Wow, he’s good. “My name’s Joni.” He shifts on his feet and for a second looks unsure of himself, unlike the guy he plays on The Endless Circle.

  “Sorry, I’ve got plans,” I say as sweetly as possible. If this goes on air, I don’t want to come off as a bitch. My friends back home might see it. “You’re gonna have to prank someone else.”

  “Prank?” The way he says the word, it’s like he’s tasting it for the first time and he’s not sure what to expect.

  “Yes, prank. You know, joke?” I wave my hand in the air, gesturing at the hidden cameras. “You’re the actor from The Endless Circle, and you’re here to prank me.”

  “The Endless Circle?” If I thought he looked confused before, that’s nothing compared to now. Not to mention he’s looking at me, deciding if I’m crazy or not. And right now it’s not looking too hot in the non-crazy department.

  He holds out the flowers. “I’m not an actor. I work in advertising. And I create comics.” The last part seems more of an afterthought and a light blush hits his cheeks. “Our grandmothers arranged for us to go out for lunch. Together.”

  “Seriously?”

  He nods and a memory pops into my head of Muumuu and I watching the
soap together for the first time and her mentioning Joni’s name. At the time I thought she was talking about the actor. She meant this guy.

  “Well, I’m un-arranging the date.” I give him a quick smile. “Sorry, but thanks for the thought. It’s nothing personal. I’m just not interested in dating while I’m here. I guess my grandmother didn’t realize that.”

  “I understand.” He turns and walks off.

  I shut the door and lean back against it. Crap. The last thing I need is for Muumu to become involved in my pathetic love life, especially when I can’t explain to her why it’s so pathetic. That goes well beyond my Finnish skills.

  Heck, it goes beyond my English skills, too.

  I wait five minutes, my back against the door, before peeling myself away from it. Once I’m positive no one is out there, I open the door and peer over the metal railing to check the ground floor. The coast is clear.

  At the cafe, I order a Diet Coke, sit in the far corner, and turn on my laptop. Claire responded to my email from yesterday, bemoaning, once again, that she has to wait forever to talk to me due to my WiFi situation. She has a million questions about Kyle.

  I tell her what I can, which is nothing, and switch topics.

  You know the soap The Endless Circle? I swear there’s a guy here who looks like one of the actors. He plays Eric Kincaid. He’s hot.

  And my grandmother is trying to set me up with him, I type. I imagine Claire laughing at that. And then after she’s finished laughing, she’ll decide it’s a great idea if it means I’ll experience a steamy romance while I’m here. Anything to help me get over Ian and his death.

  Correction. Anything to help me get past what he did to me. I’m long over what we had together, which wasn’t what I thought it was. Not like back in high school when we were dating and he meant everything to me, and I thought I meant everything to him. We had even discussed our futures, which included both of us in each other’s. Silly me.