Black Ice: A Standalone Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Mickey Miller

  “Again? What do you mean, again?”

  My skin tingled as I flashed back to everything that had gone down yesterday.

  “He said you wanted him to come by again and check on me for the second day in a row. Is that not true?”

  “I told him the first day…but not yesterday. Why, did he come by?”

  Strange. So he came by with the water of his own volition?

  “Yes, he came by.”

  “Oh, well that was nice of him. Such a nice boy, that Shane. Coming by without even me asking him. He probably sensed you were out of sorts.”

  I gulped, and a rush of adrenaline streamed through me.

  First of all, he wasn’t exactly a boy anymore.

  And I wouldn’t put him in the nice category, either.

  And now I knew he had lied about his reason for coming over. But why?

  Did he really just want to give me jugs of water?

  “Such a nice boy,” I emphasized, but I don’t think she caught my sarcasm.

  He was definitely quite the man now.

  Mom sighed. “Alright. Well, you call me if you need anything. I’m going back to work tomorrow, but I’ll be there if you need me. I can take vacation days--”

  “Mom, I said, I’ll be fine. Please, stop worrying. I’m a grown adult now.”

  “Okay. Love you,” she said.

  “Love you too.”

  When I got home, the place seemed even more freezing than it had been when I left, and I couldn’t hear the furnace going at all.

  Keeping my jacket and hat on out of necessity from the cold, I flicked the light on and headed down to the basement to take a look. After staring at the heater for a few minutes and trying to look up some DIY videos on YouTube, I thought better of becoming an amateur heating tech and googled heating companies near me.

  The closest one that came up was in the nearest “large” town, forty-five minutes away. Seriously?

  When I called them, no one picked up--typical for a Sunday--so I left a message for them to call me back and said it was urgent. I even called another company in a bigger town two hours away, but there was no answer there either so I left a message as well.

  Heading back upstairs, I checked the temperature on the wall.

  Thirty seven degrees Fahrenheit inside? Is this a joke?

  I laughed. My father always liked to play practical jokes on me. Like the one time he managed to convince me that he had seriously taken my nose when I was four. Maybe this was one more way he wanted to play with me?

  After fixing lunch of hot chicken soup, I started going through his toolshed, which was in the garage attached to the house. It was even colder in there, and after a half hour of putting his tools in a box, my hands were shaking. I needed gloves, but with gloves I felt too clumsy to organize his things.

  “Dad, seriously?” I whispered to no one, smiling and shaking my head. “Is this because I was almost with a guy yesterday in here? I swear, I didn’t mean to do it. And it won’t happen in here again.”

  Just then, a big gust of wind had pounded the outside of the wall hard enough to knock the hammer off the shelf. My heart started to pound like crazy.

  Without picking it up I walked back inside, feeling a rush of emotion as I sat down on the couch.

  Aside from some yoga I did, I generally wasn’t religious, and I didn’t even bother to check the star sign of my potential dates like my roommate back at home. I wasn’t one to believe in the supernatural, but something about a hammer falling when I thought about my father still gave me the chills.

  The temperature was rapidly dropping, and it was so cold inside the house now that my breath was frosty and the almond milk I’d left on the counter was beginning to chunk up with ice.

  That’s when I realized, this was not a drill: I would have to find a motel for the night.

  I packed a suitcase for the night, tossing in a few of the books my father had gifted me, some pajamas and generously throwing in a few other outfits. I also threw a few books into a bag and brought them, in case I needed some reading material tonight.

  Outside, thick flakes of snow were beginning to fall. I had to warm up my car and brush the snow off the windows before I was able to get out of the driveway.

  Black Mountain had one motel. I gave them a call as I was en route in my car and put them on speaker so I could concentrate on the snowy roads.

  “I’m sorry, we’re full for the night,” the hotel assistant said.

  “Seriously? I mean, how many people stay out here? It’s like the middle of nowhere.”

  “It’s the holidays. This usually happens around this time of year.”

  “Is there anywhere else I can stay?”

  “The nearest place is forty-five minutes from here. I don’t know if I would drive there, though. It’s dark, and have you heard about the blizzard coming?”

  I pulled over to the side of the road to keep talking, because the snow was getting thick.

  “There’s a blizzard coming?” I asked, then realized how dumb my question was the moment it left my lips.

  The girl on the phone chuckled.

  “You’re not from around here, are you?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I can tell by your accent. Where are you from?”

  I sighed. In Florida I had been known during my high school years as ‘the girl with the funny midwestern accent.’ And here, everyone was giving me dirty looks and, apparently, noticing how different my accent was from living in Florida for almost ten years. In Florida, I was the girl from Michigan, and in Michigan, I was the girl from Florida.

  I wanted to know, where did I fit in, exactly? Was I doomed to always feel like a fish out of water?

  “I’m from here but I moved away before high school,” I explained. “Look, are you sure you don’t have any rooms? I’m really desperate here.”

  “If someone cancels I’ll give you a call. You’re fourth on the list.”

  My stomach dropped. “So if three more people cancel, I’ll get a room? That seems unlikely.”

  “I’m sorry, I have to go, there’s a guest here. Good luck!”

  With that, she hung up, and I realized I hadn’t even given her my name to put on the alleged ‘list.’

  When I checked the weather forecast for the night my jaw dropped when I saw Black Mountain was on track for over a foot of snow before sunrise.

  There was no way I was going to get a room.

  As the flakes fell, I realized driving on a two lane highway with zero visibility to get to the next town would be a death wish.

  I was screwed.

  So, I did what any reasonable person would do in my situation.

  I headed to the only bar in Black Mountain for a drink.

  At least that would warm me up, and I could clear my head.

  If I had known what a ruckus one little visit to the bar would stir up in this tiny town, though, I wouldn’t have gone at all.

  7

  Shane

  2 HOURS Earlier

  Some people went to a church when they needed a moment to think, to feel, to reflect. For them, the feeling of being in a religious community was therapeutic.

  For me, the Black Mountain Sports Complex was my sacred space. I’d always felt like life was an uphill battle, but on the ice, everyone had an equal shot at victory.

  Unless they were playing against me, of course. In that case, they were going down.

  As the youth team I coached wrapped up practice, I realized that, for a brief moment, I’d been able to get Natalie out of my head.

  Ironically, thinking about how I wasn’t thinking about her had brought me back around to thinking about her for real.

  Why did Natalie freaking Toft have to be so goddamn adorable?

  I wanted to hate her.

  Needed to detest her after what her family had put me and my family through.

  And for most of my life, I had hated her. Just like most of the town.

  My fa
ther and my sister were dead, and both deaths could be traced to her father.

  Someone needed to pay for her father’s sins, and she was the only worthy candidate. That was exactly why I’d agreed to the plan with Jared and Bob, shady as it was.

  But once I was face-to-face with her, the second thoughts started.

  She was doe-eyed. Innocent. Gorgeous. How was it her fault if her daddy wanted to spoil her?

  She was much more than adorable.

  Natalie was drop dead sexy.

  She seemed totally oblivious to what she’d done to me. Hell, she didn’t even know my sister had passed away.

  How had she not known? Maybe her parents kept her in the dark. Hell, if I were her dad I’d have fought like hell not to let my daughter know how evil of a man I truly was.

  All day I’d fought to get the image of her strutting around her oven-hot house in skimpy short shorts and a tank top that I’d like to rip off.

  Again.

  Because I had ripped it off already. I’d seen her beautiful little breasts. Pert nipples that turned to arrows when I kissed her neck. She was mine and she knew it.

  Natalie made me lose all control. Even just thinking about her scent brought back hints of arousal. I shuddered. I would not be doing that again.

  Now that she was back here without the watchful eye of her father, or anyone--we could carry out the revenge we’d talked about for years. TK

  I had to chuckle at the irony of her mother asking me to keep an eye on her. She and her mother had skipped town and were clueless for how badly they’d screwed over this place.

  And it was time to pay the pied piper.

  Shaking my head out, I refocused my eyes on the kids as they wrapped up. A few of them had taken off their skates, but the others were still skating around practicing puck handling on the rink. Meanwhile the older players in their twenties filed in for the recreational league game scheduled for after the youth team’s practice.

  Skating over to the kids, I stopped in front of the most athletic one.

  “Bet you can’t beat me in a race around the rink,” I quipped, baiting Danny.

  “Bet you I can,” he retorted.

  “You’re on. What’s the bet?” I asked him. “Will you bet me your chocolate bar?”

  He looked longingly at a Hershey bar sitting on one of the front row seats just off the ice. I had brought one for each athlete at the beginning of the team’s practice since they played so well at last week’s game.

  “What do I get if I win?” he asked.

  “I’ll bring you another one, next practice.”

  “You’re on,” Danny said. He was still single digit years old, and his skating skills were at the top of the youth team that I was coaching. And apparently my cockiness was rubbing off on him if he thought he could beat me, a twenty-three year old former college hockey star.

  “I love the fire,” I said, giving him a high five. “I’ll give you a five second head start for that.”

  As I skated over to the starting line, I noticed his mother file into the stadium, watching us from afar. Another man behind her dusted the snow off of his jacket. I didn’t recognize him as a parent. Was Miss Petrosevich dating again, perhaps? She was one of the single moms who brought their kids to my practice. Dated some douche who got her pregnant in her teens and then moved away. Situations like that happened a lot here, and I tried my damndest to be a father figure for the little boys and girls on the ice who didn’t have one.

  I knew better than most how it felt not to have a father around.

  I drew a line in the ice with the edge of my skate, and Danny and I lined up. I had a couple of the other kids from the team wait at the finish link to judge the victor.

  Another kid, Joey, started the race for us. “Ready. Set. Go!”

  Danny took off, flying down the ice as fast as his little legs could take him. I counted silently, One Mississippi. Two Mississippi.

  At five, I was off, flying down the ice.

  About four fifths of the way down the rink, I passed him, and then crossed the finish line just before him.

  “Awww, man!” he exclaimed, and then shook my hand as I’d taught all the kids to do after any competition. “Good race, Coach,” he said.

  “Good race, Danny,” I said. “Guess you’ll have to train hard this week, eh?”

  He nodded, seeming sad.

  Some coaches and parents let their kids win, but my philosophy was, one day he’ll beat me easily. Until that day, make ‘em work. And I’d noticed Danny was dogging a few of the drills today, so I wanted to make sure he dialed it in for our next practice. Attitude was contagious, and he was a leader who the others looked up to.

  As I put on my gear for my own rec game, and got the kids off the ice, he skated over to me, chocolate bar in hand.

  Okay, now I felt like an asshole. No way was I actually going to collect on this bet.

  “Keep it,” I said.

  “Nope. You won it fair and square. That’s the rules.”

  Damn. The kid had principles. I had to appreciate that.

  “Alright. I’ll give you a second option--you can give it to someone else on the team if you want.”

  “Okay.”

  Danny stepped off the ice and made a beeline for Josh Hicks. Hicks was known to have parents who were drug addicts and would preference them over food in the house.

  My heart burned seeing that, and I made a mental note to bring jerky or something a little more substantial than chocolate for them next time. Fucking A. Even though they were so young, they knew which kids were going hungry at home. Kids are so much smarter then we give them credit for.

  Things were tough in Black Mountain for us who lived here year-round, in general. With the depressing weather and the minimal hours of sunlight, it had become unfortunately a hotbed for alcohol abuse, methamphetamines, fentanyl, and other pain-killers as of late. We’d reached epidemic proportions.

  Crazy thing was, I could relate to why people wanted to take the pain away. You’d be so damn bored here, you’d go crazy cooped up inside all day in the cold and the dark. Painkilling drugs were a way to ease the pain of existence.

  The kids exited the rink, and a few of the players from the rec team of twenty-somethings I played for filed onto the ice, giving me head nods. We were undefeated this year so far, thanks in no small part to my domination.

  As I sat down in the first row of seats, adjusting my skates, Miss Petrosevich came up to me.

  “Hey, Coach,” she said, standing in front of me, holding a tin. She had a giant smile on her face. “I made you something this morning.”

  “Oh, thanks,” I said, waving it off. “I think I’m, ah, not supposed to really accept gifts from the parents, unfortunately. Shows favoritism. You know how Mrs. Marsik gets when her kid doesn’t get enough minutes.”

  I didn’t mean to be rude, but I also didn’t want to send any funny messages to her. She was a young single mom, and a great person, and yes, cute, but dating the parents of my kids wasn’t something I was interested in. “It’s lemon bars.”

  Fuck me silly. My favorite.

  She must have seen my mouth watering.

  “Shane, I don’t ask for any favoritism. You give the kids even minutes. Give Danny less minutes if you want.

  “Miss Petrosevich, You’re an absolute sweetheart,” I said as I opened it up and looked at the lemony, powdered sugary goodness. “I’ll make sure you get this tin back.”

  “Just my way of saying thanks. These kids--they really need this. Especially in the winter. And please, call me Lily.”

  “Lily. I know they do.”

  “Danny said he wouldn’t play for any coach but you.”

  “That’s very nice of him. Our rec league has many fantastic coaches, though.”

  She sighed, and sat down next to me.

  “Some days, Shane, I look around and I think, ‘Where have all the good men gone?’ and then I think, well, there’s that Shane. Thank God there’s on
e. These kids need a role model.”

  My skin tingled, and not in a good way.

  I was far from a good man, especially considering the plan I had in mind with my friends for Natalie.

  But we’d been wronged. And sometimes, for evil to grow, the only thing needed is for a good man to do nothing.

  At least, that’s what I kept trying to tell myself.

  “Right. Someone not afraid to beat them in races,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

  “I’m being serious. This drug thing happening right now is an epidemic. They need an outlet, and I’m really thankful you’re here to give them the gift of hockey. They really look up to you.”

  “We’ve got to look out for each other, here. That’s all I’m doing. Anyone in my place would do the same.”

  “Right. Well, if you ever want an ear to listen, or grab a drink…”

  “I appreciate the offer. But you know I don’t like to go out with the parents of my little athletes.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry. What do you do, for fun?”

  Seduce Floridians, apparently.

  “Isn’t that, uh, your boyfriend?” I pointed to the guy who had filed in the back. He had salt and pepper hair, and had a definite silver fox look going on, if I did say so myself.

  She put her hand on my wrist and laughed. “Oh, no, him? I like my men...younger,” she said, giving me a look like a cougar advancing on its prey.

  I cursed my love of lemon bars for putting me in this situation. But hey, I had to get my fix somewhere. If lemon bars were on the list of my worst vices, I’d take that over lots of things.

  “Well, lot of guys out there to choose from,” I said, bobbing my head toward the rink, where my friends were all skating around. “See you next week, Mrs. Petrosevich.”

  “Please, it’s Miss. And call me Lily.”

  I stood up and launched myself onto the ice. “Have a good one,” I returned, doing my best to be as neutral as possible.

  But I’d have to be an idiot not to miss the suggestion in her eyes before she walked away.

  Hey, every guy has a weakness. Or two. Lemon bars and Natalie Toft were mine, apparently.