Hot Off the Ice Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by A. E. Wasp

  “You remember that?”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “How could I forget? You didn’t tell me he was gorgeous and polite.”

  “Sorry?”

  “By the way,” she leaned in and whispered. “Have you met his dad yet?”

  “No. And from what I’ve heard, I’m in no hurry. He a super religious homophobe.”

  They both looked over at Paul. “Oh, dear. Bless his heart. But it’s funny, you know.”

  “What’s funny?”

  “Back in college, I would have put money on Stoney coming out and ending up with Skipper. Talk about two boys in love.” She shook her head.

  “Hey, quit lollygagging,” Paul called. “We gotta go.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Robbie hugged Georgia and kissed her on the cheek.

  Paul came over and did the same. “Lovely to meet you, Miss Georgia.”

  “Lovely to meet you. I hope we’ll be seeing a lot more of you in the future.”

  “Unless they kick me off the team, I’m sure you will.”

  24

  Paul

  “I think you missed a spot,” Robbie called from the couch. “Down by the bottom. I think we need more ornaments.”

  Paul frowned at the Christmas tree standing in his living room. It was looking a little bare. “No way am I going out to the store on Christmas Eve. Did you get a concussion to go with the twisted ankle?”

  Robbie answered by throwing popcorn at him.

  Paul picked up the fluffy kernel and examined it. “You know, we could go old school and use popcorn.”

  “For what?” Robbie threw some more popcorn at him.

  “Stop wasting it,” Paul said. “For decoration. Haven’t you ever seen popcorn strings on a Christmas trees?”

  “Maybe in a kids’ book once? Do people still do that?”

  “I don’t know, but we are.” Paul walked over to the kitchen and started digging through some drawers.

  “What are you doing?” Robbie called from the living room. He was under strict orders not to put any weight on his ankle for the next few days if he wanted any chance of playing the next game. Luckily, through some miracle from the gods of scheduling, they had the next few days off.

  “Looking for a needle and thread. I think there were some in the welcome kit the realtor left.” Aha, he was right. He shoved another bag of popcorn into the microwave and went back to sit on the couch next to Robbie.

  Both of their places were starting to look more like people lived in them rather than squatters with terrible eating habits. He’d talked Robbie into furniture shopping, and they’d spent one day wandering through some giant furniture warehouse on the edge of town.

  Now they both had actual places to sit and eat in their apartments. Robbie had argued that the giant leather sectional with three recliners, built-in speakers, and a beer cooler in the ottoman was not only ridiculously overpriced, but designed to appeal to every male stereotype there was. The sales person had practically spit out the gum they’d been chewing when Robbie burst out with “I can’t believe it’s not decorated with penises.”

  Of course Paul had to buy it after that. He didn’t hear Robbie complaining at all while they were hour three of video gaming.

  They’d spent another day at Ikea. Also known as the Day from Hell. Robbie had almost had a toddler-level breakdown in the checkout line. After a whispered but vehement argument, Paul had ordered Robbie to the cafeteria to eat something while he checked out for both of them.

  The soccer moms on either side of them thought it was the most adorable thing ever. Paul was sure he saw a few taking pictures with their phones.

  Christmas Eve was proving much calmer. They’d begged off from visiting their families. Robbie’s injury provided a convenient excuse.

  He lifted Robbie’s legs up and slid under them. He threaded two needles and handed one to Robbie.

  “What do I do with this?” Robbie asked.

  “You stick it through a nice fluffy kernel. Like this.” Paul demonstrated, or tried to. The first few kernels broke.

  Robbie tried, and most of his went flying to the carpet.

  Paul managed to get three on in a row, so he held his needle up in triumph. The kernels slid off the thread.

  “I feel like this would work better if we weren’t using popcorn with butter and salt.” He moved to wipe his hands on the brand-new houndstooth blanket Sissy had sent him for Christmas.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Paul said, lunging forward and capturing Robbie’s fingers.

  “Well, what am I supposed to do?” Robbie asked.

  Paul proceeded to lick the grease off Robbie’s hand, which led to the blanket and the popcorn both falling to the floor, and Robbie’s shirt getting thrown over the back of the couch.

  Paul’s phone rang, and he automatically looked at it.

  “Ignore it,” Robbie said. The way he slid his hand down Paul’s pants made a very convincing argument.

  “Oh, crap,” Paul said, pushing himself up, “what time is it?”

  “I don’t know. About eleven?”

  “Crap.” Paul rolled off the couch. “Put your shirt on. It’s probably my Dad.”

  He scrambled for the phone. Yeah, it was. And Facetime, too. Turning away from the couch, Paul answered it.

  “Chip!” he sister Sissy screamed. “I miss you!”

  “I miss you, too, boo.” Sissy was five years younger than Paul, and he’d always doted on her. In return, she adored him. He wouldn’t have survived his mother’s death without her.

  They talked for a while. Paul careful not to get Robbie in the frame, and Robbie keeping silent in the background.

  It felt good to talk to his father about hockey. His dad had always been his biggest supporter, something he had taken for granted before meeting Robbie’s parents.

  They’d been better lately, texting before and after games, asking questions about hockey, and listening when Robbie answered them. The best had been after a game that had, as far as Paul could tell, blind officials.

  There had been four voice mails from his mother waiting for Robbie after the game. The first one started out tentatively, asking for clarification on why the ref hadn’t called the one penalty on the guy who had high-sticked Robbie. By the last one she was ranting and calling for the refs to be ‘disbarred or whatever it is that happens to bad referees.’

  Tears had been streaming down Robbie’s face by that point. He’d been extra sweet to Paul that night. He kept telling Paul thank you for what he’d done until they were past talking.

  Talking stats and standings and strategy with his father was something Paul had been doing his whole life. He settled down into one of the recliners and let his father talk. Sissy chimed in every now and then. She was his second biggest fan.

  “So where are you going to church tonight?” Stoney asked, catching Paul by surprise with the change of topic.

  “Oh. Um, nowhere, sir. I haven’t had time to find any place yet. I’ve only been here a little over a month, and I’ve been a little busy.”

  “No need to get snappy, I just don’t like you being alone on Christmas.”

  To Paul’s surprise, his father didn’t sound upset.

  “I won’t be alone,” he reassured Stoney. “Some of the guys are coming over for dinner tonight.”

  “Oh, that’s nice. Who?” Stoney kept up on Paul’s teammates, too.

  “Well, uh, Robbie. Rhodes.”

  “Your defensive partner, right? How is he after that fall? It looked like it could be bad. Media is saying it’s just a sprain, but I know how the PR people like to downplay things.”

  “No, it’s just a sprain.” He looked over to see what Robbie was up to. He’d put his shirt back on and was half-asleep on the couch. It would be weird not to acknowledge his presence, right? If nothing were going on between them, he would have introduced Robbie over the phone. Thank goodness he was asleep enough for that not to be an issue.

  “As a matter of fact,” he swu
ng the phone so Robbie was visible in the background, hunkered down under the blanket, ACE-bandaged-wrapped foot propped up a pillow. “I’m keeping an eye on him.”

  “Oh, you got the blanket,” Sissy said from over Stoney’s shoulder. “It looks awesome.”

  “Roll Tide,” Robbie mumbled from the couch without opening his eyes.

  Sissy laughed. “You been teaching him? Made him watch any games?”

  “Nah. I been fixin’ to, but the timing never works out.”

  “So who else is coming?”

  “Some of the younger guys, Sergei Pergov, the goalie, maybe some of the staff.”

  “It sounds like a nice night. I’ll let you get to it. Try to catch a service on the internet if you can, okay? It’s important.”

  “Yessir, I will.” Paul thought of something that would ease his father’s fear and maybe hold off the questioning for a little longer. “The league has a ministry, did you know that?”

  “No, I did not. But I’m glad to hear it.”

  “They come ‘round ‘bout every two weeks, so I’ve only seen them once. But they seem like a nice buncha people.”

  “I am very glad to hear that. And do some of your other teammates take advantage of it, too?”

  “A few,” Paul hedged. In truth, he’d only heard about the ministry. He hadn’t talked to anyone involved in it yet. It didn’t seem to be a high priority for anyone around him.

  They chatted for a little longer, with Paul promising to send his sister some team swag she could show off to her friends. “Now don’t about selling it on eBay or something, you hear me?”

  “Cross my heart, Chipper. Merry Christmas.” Her smiled made Paul homesick for the first time in a while.

  “Merry Christmas, Sissy. You oughta plan a trip, get yourself out here. I’ll show you around. Introduce you to the guys.”

  Sissy clapped her hands. “Oh, I would love that so much. Can I go, Daddy?”

  “Can’t see why not. Maybe we’ll both make a trip out. Catch a game.” Stoney smiled.

  Since that night back in Minnesota, he’d played it completely straight in public. He’d pushed all his feelings down as hard as he could, concentrating on hockey and getting the family through the last few months of his mother’s life.

  He and Stoney had grown closer, and he missed his family. He’d be able to play it cool around Robbie for a couple of days.

  “I’d like that very much,” Paul said sincerely.

  “That sounded like it went well,” Robbie said after Paul hung up. He pushed himself up the couch so he could lay his head in Paul’s lap.

  Paul combed his fingers through Robbie’s hair, enjoying the feel and the way it made Robbie practically purr. “It did. Did you hear the part about them coming out for a visit?”

  “I did. You ready for that?”

  “I think so. Think you can keep your hands off me for a couple of days?” Paul tried to make a joke of it, but Robbie’s silence spoke volumes.

  Paul knew Robbie hated the need for secrecy around their relationship. Because of Paul, Robbie couldn’t even tell their teammates or his family.

  He wished for the hundredth time that he could tell everyone – hell, anyone – about him and Robbie.

  “Guess I’ll get some practice tonight.”

  “I’m sorry,” Paul said, heart heavy. “I’m sorry I make you live like this.”

  Robbie opened his eyes and turned onto his back to look in Paul’s eyes. “I know. I know you are.” He reached up to touch Paul’s face. “It’s okay.”

  They both heard the for now he left unsaid. “Now kiss me, and then take me to the bedroom and do unspeakable things to me so I can make it through dinner.” Robbie’s tone was light, but his eyes didn’t hold their usual sparkle.

  Trying for the same tone, Paul bent down to kiss him. “How come I have to do all the work?”

  “I’m injured. You promised the doc you’d take good care of me. They were going to get me a nurse to stay at my place. But you wouldn’t let them. I think the least you should do is get some sort of hot nurse’s costume and wear it.”

  Paul swatted him. “The painkillers have gone to your head.” He tugged Robbie up onto his lap. “Come here. I’ll do unspeakable things right here. Then you can nap, and I’ll finish the tree.”

  “Is that the recommended treatment, Nurse Dyson?” Robbie fluttered his eyelashes.

  “Doctor’s orders,” Paul said solemnly, sliding his hand down Robbie’s pants. “First step, a thorough physical.”

  They both ended up falling asleep, and it was a bit of scramble to get everything ready. They had just finished laying out the glasses when the doorbell rang.

  “I got it,” Paul called.

  “No kidding,” Robbie said, waving his crutch.

  Paul pulled the door open and stopped dead at the sight of Bryce Lowery, arms full of Christmas presents. Another guy who had to be his boyfriend stood behind him carrying bags stuffed with food.

  “Holy crap,” Paul said.

  25

  Paul

  “Hi, are you Paul Dyson?” Bryce asked. “Jake said this was your place, and that you and Robbie would be here.”

  Paul’s brain wasn’t up to processing words yet. Robbie wasn’t kidding, Bryce was even better looking in real life. He wore dark blue jeans and an off-white fisherman’s sweater that looked like it had been handmade by an actual fisherman’s wife in Ireland. He looked like a catalog ad.

  “Can we come in? I know we weren’t invited.” Bryce smiled sheepishly. “But we do come bearing gifts.” He held his arms out.

  “And food,” added the guy behind him.

  Paul searched his memory for the guy’s name. Chicago? Boston? No, those were bands.

  “Who is it?” Robbie called from the couch. “Never mind, even if it’s polite burglars let them in. You’re letting all the warm air out.”

  “Suck it up, Rookie. It’s about sixty degrees out,” Bryce called from the door.

  “Bryce? Is that you? Holy shit. Did you bring that younger and much-better looking boyfriend of yours?”

  Paul turned to see Robbie struggling to get up from the couch. “Sit!” he said, pointing at Robbie.

  Bryce laughed.

  “Oh, man, I am so sorry. I just didn’t expect you. Please come in.” Paul stepped back from the door.

  Bryce shifted his packages to one arm and held out a hand to Paul. “Bryce Lowery. Nice to meet you.”

  Paul shook it enthusiastically. “Yeah. I mean, I know who you are. Nice to meet you, sir.”

  “Dakota,” the other man said, offering his hand to Paul.

  “Yes! That’s it!” Paul said, slapping his forehead.

  “Yeah. I know,” Dakota said with a laugh. He lifted the bags he was carrying. “Mind if I drop these in the kitchen?”

  “No. Please. Please come in.” He stepped away from the door to let them in.

  “What, are you Santa Claus now?” Robbie asked. “Who are all those presents for?”

  “The whole team,” Bryce answered, placing them under the tree. “Plus special ones for Nikki and Jake and you.”

  “Me? Why me?” Robbie looked stunned.

  Bryce stood up and shrugged. “You ate Thanksgiving dinner with my mother. That makes you family now. Sorry. You’re stuck with us.”

  Robbie’s eyes grew bright, and he couldn’t seem to find anything to say. Paul gave Robbie’s shoulder a friendly pat as he followed Dakota into the kitchen. It was all he could do to let Robbie know how much the Lowery family’s gesture meant to him.

  Paul watched in awe as Dakota unpacked more food than Paul’s kitchen had ever seen.

  “You didn’t have to bring so much,” Paul said, examining a tube of some cheese he didn’t recognize.

  “Yeah, right,” Dakota said. “I know how you guys are. None of you can cook, and none of you have time to shop for groceries. I don’t feel like spending Christmas Eve eating bean dip and Doritos.” He gave a knowing look
at the cans of beans sitting on the counter.

  “Dang,” Paul said. “Called out in my own kitchen, on Christmas Eve no less.”

  The next hour or so was happy chaos as more people showed up than Paul had been expecting.

  Jake surprised him by showing up with a woman who turned out to be Bryce’s ex-wife Nikki. He’d invited Jake, of course, but he’d assumed the older captain would have friends or family to spend the evening with.

  “Here you go, Dyson,” he said, shoving a case of beer into Paul’s arms. “Since you can’t come to the party because you’re babysitting the Rookie here, we brought the party to you.”

  Nikki had another armload of presents that she added to the growing pile under the tree. Paul had no idea why there were presents. He and Robbie hadn’t even gotten each other anything. That bothered Paul, but he couldn’t think of anything to get Robbie. Besides, they were together pretty much twenty-four seven. It was hard to surprise someone like that.

  Sergei came in with a case of mixed wine and hard liquor. “I don’t know what you need,” he explained, handing Paul the case.

  “So he brought it all.” A guy about Paul’s age came in behind Sergei. Paul didn’t recognize him, so he assumed he was Sergei’s friend. They were an odd pair. The new guy was tiny and slender, very blonde, and, not that Paul could be sure, but he seemed pretty gay. Maybe it was the tight red jeans.

  “Guess I’ll introduce myself,” the guy said, “since some people have no manners.” He pitched that last part loud enough for Sergei to hear over the general chatter of the room.

  “Alex Stanton,” He held out his hand. “Figure skating coach for a few of your teammates. We haven’t met.” He eyed Paul from top to bottom. “That I would have remembered.”

  Paul blushed. Yeah, definitely gay. “Well, um, I’m Paul Dyson. Defense. Please come on in and welcome to my home.”

  “Thank you very kindly,” Alex replied with a smile. “A southern boy with manners. Lovely. Now, where’s the bar?”