Resistance on Ice - SR GREY

by Grey, S. R.

  I swear I literally feel what little bit of color I had left from my day at Nolan’s pool draining away with every step. Or maybe that’s my enthusiasm. Whatever the case, when another gust of wind picks up, just as I reach the building, I hurry the hell in.

  I’m still feeling blue, and all I can think is if I ace this interview and am offered the position, I don’t know how I’ll stand another Midwestern winter. The past few months of living in the desert have me totally spoiled. Or maybe I’m just realizing I much prefer the sun and heat. More likely, I just prefer a place where Nolan resides, even if we aren’t together.

  Does that make sense? No. I’m clearly losing it.

  When I’m called in for the interview, I just kind of go through the motions. Funny, despite not caring all that much about the outcome, I still put on a good show. I guess since there’s no pressure I appear relaxed, yet confident. At the end of the interview, I’m told I should expect to hear from someone shortly. Always a good sign, as my friends who’ve landed really good jobs have always been notified within twenty-four hours.

  I should be elated, but I feel kind of blasé. I’m all like, woohoo…not. Consequently, I can’t get out of Chicago fast enough.

  I stop in at the apartment, grab my stuff, say good-bye and I’ll probably see you soon to Al, and take a cab straight to the airport.

  Back in Vegas, I receive a call from the ad agency the very next day.

  They offer me the job.

  Ah, my friends were right.

  Since I’ve not heard anything from the Wolves, and I need a “real” job, now more so than ever to keep my mind off my in-shambles love life, I accept immediately.

  The HR person is elated.

  “Excellent,” she says. “Can you be settled in and ready to start by the end of the month? We’d like you to start on December first.”

  Yikes, that’s only three weeks away!

  Why did I think I’d have more time? I guess because the Wolves position I interviewed for is still open. But this is the one that’s being offered to me.

  “Yes,” I reply, decision made. “That’s not a problem.”

  The phone call continues, with more details that I robotically jot down.

  And then it’s done and over, and my life has a new direction, just like that.

  I have a career-oriented job.

  And I’m moving away.

  You have your whole life ahead of you, I remind myself.

  Yeah, too bad it feels empty knowing Nolan will no longer be a part of it.

  You Gotta Play to Win

  Lainey is really leaving, but I can’t believe it.

  It’s happening, though, according to Brent. He showed up at my house yesterday and told me the news. I think he expected me to run straight down to his house and beg Lainey not to go.

  Why else would he make a point of stopping by?

  But what did I do? Nothing. I just stood there, nodding and acting like it was all okay.

  Brent looked disappointed when he left.

  Hell, I get it. I’m disappointed with myself. But this isn’t about me. Sure, I want to stop Lainey from moving away, particularly now that I’ve admitted to myself that I love her. But I just can’t do that to her. It’s because of the love I feel for her that I can’t, in good conscience, keep her from pursuing her dreams. She wanted to find a career position, one where she could put to use the degree she worked so hard for, and this is her chance.

  I won’t stand in her way. It’d be like if the team were to make another Cup run, and Lainey asked me not to play. Yeah, not fair. Not fair at all. Still, doing the right thing doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like fucking hell. I finally opened my heart to Lainey, and to love, and she doesn’t even fucking know it.

  Now she never will.

  I’m so miserable I decide to do what Brent did when Aubrey left him last year—I immerse myself in hockey. But even that doesn’t help. Sure, I rack up more assists and a few goals, thus setting some personal and professional records, but even those milestones feel hollow.

  On one particularly lonely night, I get wind that Dylan and Benny are hitting up the town.

  What the hell, I think, I should just join them.

  And I do. We grab dinner at a trendy, upscale restaurant, and then head to the Strip to gamble a little. Benny’s been on a winning streak lately with blackjack, so we let him pick which casino we should go to first.

  He chooses Planet Hollywood, where we all hit big. Of course, we’re throwing down lots of money. You gotta play to win, right?

  “Which place is calling to you now?” Dylan asks Benny as we leave PH with full wallets.

  Tourists and fellow gamblers push by, but we ignore them as we wait for Lucky Benny to make his next selection.

  “Yeah,” I reiterate to him, “next stop is totally your call.”

  Benny frowns as he peers up and down the Strip. The colorful neon lights flash off his stubbled face and blond hair as he thinks it over.

  “Any day now,” I mumble, feeling impatient when five minutes go by with no decision made.

  “Greatness takes time,” Benny shoots back.

  “Yeah,” Dylan chimes in, frowning over at me. “Just let him think it over, man.”

  “All right, all right, all right,” I say, sounding a lot like Matthew McConaughey.

  Finally, Benny makes a decision. “I got a strong feeling about one place in particular.” He shoots me a sidelong glance. “But, dude, you’re so not gonna like it.”

  “Aw, fuck.” I sense where this is heading. The casino where Lainey works is directly across the street. And that’s the one Benny can’t keep his damn eyes off of.

  “Hey, it doesn’t have to be that one,” he says, sending me a look filled with apology for even mentioning it. “We can just go somewhere else. My hot streak is due to end soon anyway.”

  “Whoa, hey, I don’t know about that,” Dylan counters. He gestures back to where we just cleaned up. “We walked away with some stellar winners at this place.”

  I can’t argue with sound logic. Besides, I’m not a pussy. Gesturing over to Lainey’s place of employment, or rather her place of employment until she leaves for her real job—and her new life without me—I say, “Let’s just head over. It’s fine.”

  “Are you sure?” both guys ask at the same time.

  “I am,” I assure them. “Lainey may not even be working tonight.” I have no clue since we’ve had no contact, so I add, “Even if she is, it’s not a problem. We’ll be busy playing cards, eh?”

  “True,” Benny concurs.

  “So are we doing this or what?” Dylan says impatiently.

  I know he firmly believes in confronting things head-on. I bet if he knew the extent of my feelings for Lainey, he’d tell me to quit being such a stubborn prick and just fucking lay my heart out on the table. He’d say Lainey should have all the facts before she leaves. He doesn’t believe in allowing an obstacle to hold you back. His philosophy is you grab hold of that motherfucker and make it move out of your way. Or die trying.

  I don’t disagree, on principle, but I can’t mess up Lainey’s life. I’m afraid she’ll base her entire decision on the fact that I’ve come around. Her heart is so good, and I know she loves me just as much as I love her, even though we’ve never said the words.

  Still, I’d hate if someday she looked at me with those beautiful turquoise eyes and they were filled with resentment. That could happen if I swoop in at the last minute and derail her new life.

  That’s also why I won’t call Mrs. Fielding and press the issue with the Wolves. If she wants to call Lainey and offer her the job, she’ll do so. And this way if she does, it’ll be because Lainey is the best candidate for the job. Not because one of their star players intervened.

  Helping Lainey secure a job interview is one thing, but using my influence to change the course of her life? I just won’t do that. Even Brent and Aubrey stop short of going that far.

  “So…” I bl
ow out a breath and make the first move to cross the street. “Who’s feeling lucky tonight?”

  This Job Can’t End Soon Enough

  Only three more shifts, including the one I’m working, and then my life as a cocktail waitress will blissfully end.

  The timing couldn’t be better, and this shift can’t end soon enough. The crowds seem especially crazy tonight. Maybe it’s due to the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday, I don’t know. What I do know is everyone is drinking more than usual, more belligerent than ever, and pawing at us waitresses like there’s some kind of contest.

  “I swear,” I grind out after escaping one handsy customer. I’m back at the drink well with another waitress, Penny, who’s been experiencing the same thing all night. “If one more pervert tries to grab my ass, they’re going to wear their next cocktail.”

  “I hear ya, sweetie,” Penny replies. She’s in her early thirties, and as she tells it, has been here three years going on what feels like fifty. “Just be happy you’re done for good after this weekend.”

  “Trust me, I’m elated,” I reply, chuckling as I place three drinks—two rum and cokes and one soda water—an order that came in through our automated system for table 22—on a tray. “I’m so over this place.”

  “Amen to that,” Penny says. “Now keep that in mind, and get back out there in the trenches.”

  “Yes, sir,” I tease, turning to go.

  As I start out to table 22, she calls out to me, “Promise not to forget about us little people once you’re a certified ad guru and raking in the big bucks.”

  “That will never happen,” I yell back over my shoulder. “I promise I’ll come back and leave the biggest tips ever!”

  “Ooh, I’ll let you grab my ass for sure if you do that,” I hear her teasingly retort before I’m out of earshot.

  She’s such a sweetheart, always making me laugh. In fact, I’m smiling big and wide when I reach table 22.

  And then I’m suddenly not.

  “Oh,” I mutter dejectedly.

  At table 22 sits the one man I never expected to show up at my place of employment.

  “Hello, Lainey,” a smooth voice replies—Nolan’s smooth voice.

  I set down his drink, one of the rum and cokes, in front of him. He seems equal parts surprised and pleased to see me. He’s also managing to somehow exude über suaveness and sophistication. But then again, that’s always him.

  I’m so captured by Nolan—partly because I haven’t seen him since our day by the pool, and partly because I’m always like this around him—that I barely notice Benny and Dylan are there too. But when Benny clears his throat, I give him and Dylan a quick hey.

  Then I return to checking out Nolan.

  He looks exceptional, his dark hair slicked back and his blue eyes burning pure ice. He’s wearing a black suit, red tie, and a white button-down shirt. And though his attire screams business magnate to the unaware, the cut of his clothes can’t hide his powerful, athletic body, a body made for performance—in more areas than just hockey, as I well know.

  I swallow hard as I force back memories of Nolan working his body over mine, taking me, making me his.

  “Lainey?” He cocks his head. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I snap, though clearly I’m not.

  If I were fine, I wouldn’t be standing there gawking at the man, thinking about sex with him.

  What is wrong with me? I should be acting all cool and aloof toward him, seeing as I broke things off.

  And with damn good reason! I remind myself.

  Pulling my shit together, I straighten my spine and focus on the other two guys. We exchange more pleasantries as I finally pass out their drinks. Nolan, at one point, asks for a cocktail napkin. I hold one out to him, but make no eye contact. I just keep on chatting away with Benny and Dylan, ignoring Mr. I Suddenly Need Something From You, Lainey—albeit just a napkin.

  Clearly miffed by my sudden blasé attitude toward him, he says, “We can ask for another waitress, if that’d make you feel more comfortable.” His hand brushes against mine as he slips the napkin from my grasp.

  I try not to feel so affected by his touch, but the truth is I am. “That won’t be necessary,” I snap.

  Damn it, I’m determined to do this.

  “We’ll be moving over to one of the game tables soon, anyway,” Benny says gently, gesturing to a nearby blackjack pit.

  “Really, it’s not a problem,” I maintain. “In fact, I can bring your next round to wherever you are.”

  Benny opens his mouth to reply, but I never get to hear what he was about to say. An obnoxious drunk, one I’d hoped had left, calls over to me from a few tables away.

  “Hey, waitress,” he slurs. “You think you can wiggle that cute little ass over here sometime soon? I’d really like to place another drink order before next year.”

  Nolan visibly bristles. “Is that asshole bothering you? Just say the word, Lainey, and I’ll take care of it.”

  I’d actually love that, but I can’t involve him in my work problems. We’re nothing to each other anymore. Plus, he has the team and his reputation to think of. Even though no one is actively bugging any of the guys for autographs, people have been glancing over and whispering.

  Shaking my head, I tell Nolan, “No, I got this.”

  Dylan leans in and quietly asks, “You sure, hon?”

  His rich brown eyes tell me he means business. I’m not surprised. Nolan once told me Dylan’s mom died at the hands of a violent, abusive man. Not surprisingly, Dylan doesn’t take too kindly to men disrespecting women in any way.

  I’m reminded of what Brent told me about these guys having my back. I have no doubt that Dylan would throw down right alongside Nolan. Benny too, based on the daggers he’s shooting Dickhead’s way.

  It feels good to have these men so willing to back me up, but I assure them, “Everything’s under control. This is why we have bouncers.” I don’t add that I currently don’t see one nearby.

  I return my gaze to Nolan, and wait… Is that disappointment on his face? Does he actually want to kick someone’s ass for me? Wow, I think he does. There’s a certain bygone chivalry in that. Still, it doesn’t matter. He and I are through when it comes to love, which means there’s no need for him to defend me.

  I walk away from table 22, take a deep breath, and head over to take Dickhead’s order.

  Listen to Your Heart

  I swear there are times when I wish I wasn’t a well-known hockey player. Like right now. If I didn’t have an image to uphold, which the team mandates, I’d hustle my ass over to the table where Lainey’s currently taking an order and promptly hoist the short, paunchy dude who’s been giving her a hard time all night up off his stool so I can kick his ass six ways to Sunday.

  “Don’t do it, Solvenson.” Dylan gives me that look, one that tells me he knows exactly where my head’s at.

  “Shit,” I bite out, since he’s right.

  But when he sees I can’t stop fuming, he changes course. “If it is going to happen, it needs to be discreet.”

  “Where’re you thinking?” I ask, quirking a brow. “That little prick has been saying shit to Lainey all night. Every time she’s over at his table, bringing an order or taking a new one, it’s obvious he’s giving her crap.”

  “I noticed that too,” Benny chimes in, shaking his head. “It’s really fucked-up.”

  “It sure is,” I agree. “That’s why I’m definitely going to have some kind of a little ‘talk’ with him before the night is over.”

  Benny knows what I really mean, and says, “Hey, I’m in. I have some things to say to him too.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Dylan, not surprisingly, chimes in.

  I’m appreciative my teammates are with me off the ice, as well as on. “Good, then we’re in agreement that he’s going to get a lesson on how not to treat your cocktail waitress.”

  “Or any woman,” Dylan says in a low voice.

  “Now we just
have to wait for the right time.”

  We head back over to the blackjack table, where a new hand’s about to be dealt. My mind remains on Lainey, however, even as I take a seat.

  Fuck, I’ll be so glad when she’s done with this place.

  Yet another reason why I must keep my true feelings for her under wraps. When I first saw her tonight, as she was approaching our table with our tray of drinks, I went from shock that she was actually working and assigned to our table—what’s the chance?—to complete joy. I wanted nothing more than to grab her up in my arms and share with her that I fucking love her!

  But I quickly composed myself.

  And good thing I did, since Lainey needs to move on now more than ever. If for no other reason than to get away from smarmy pricks like the one she’s been putting up with tonight.

  Over the next hour, the blackjack table is good to us. Our chips keep multiplying. I make sure to keep an eye on Lainey, though. Luckily, the dickhead bugging her seems to have backed off. It’s probably because there’s a security guy hanging around now.

  Dylan pulls me from my thoughts when he says, “Benny sure was right about this casino.” Turning to the man in question, he adds, “You have a knack indeed, my friend, for picking the winning spots.”

  “I guess I do,” Benny agrees. “The streak is strong tonight.”

  And it is, as we all win at least once the next several hands. We cash out shortly thereafter, collect our winnings, and return to table 22 in the cocktail lounge. But I notice when we order a final round of drinks from Lainey that she seems troubled.

  Fuck the fact that we’re not together anymore. I gently touch her arm. “Did something more happen with that dickhead?” I shoot his table a killer look. Too bad he’s not looking my way.

  She shakes her head, but kind of leans into me, like she suddenly needs my protection.

  Suddenly, like a thunderbolt hitting me, I get this overwhelming feeling that time is running out. But is the feeling regarding us…or something else?