Cutting Ice: A Sports Romance Read online

  There’s a small-town name, if I ever heard one, I thought to myself, hesitating for a split second before I rapped my knuckles on the door. I heard a rustling inside, and a few seconds later, the door opened. Behind it stood a man about the age of my father, almost a full foot taller than me, with dark hair peppered with grey and a kind if no-bullshit expression on his face.

  “Miss Tennison?” He stepped aside so I could make my way into his office. I waved my hand at him politely.

  “Please, call me Emily,” I replied, looking around the office. It was papered with newspaper cuttings and pictures, most of them taken from about thirty years ago (which, as I remembered in that instant, was the last time the Crows had any real success), all but a handful of them, the ones closest to his desk, very recent shots. He sat down with a small grunt, and I took my seat opposite him.

  “So, the newspaper sent you, right?” he confirmed, and I nodded.

  “That’s right.”

  He eyed me suspiciously for a moment, then shook his head and took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment.

  “Sorry if I seem standoffish,” he commented. “I just didn’t ever think we’d be notable enough to get a reporter round here for a whole month, you know?”

  I laughed, and pulled out my Dictaphone, placing it on the table between us.

  “You’ve signed all the release forms, right?” I confirmed, my finger hovering over the play button, and he nodded.

  “Yeah.”

  I began my recording, leaning towards him slightly over the table. This was the side of journalism I loved; I had started off terrified by it, convinced that I was going to fuck things up and manage to ask some question that would get me kicked out, or worse, clam up entirely and end up not asking an interesting question at all.

  “So, when did you start coaching for the Crows?”

  The conversation flowed naturally from there. I was surprised at how talkative he was. Most of the coaches I’d encountered had been a little more defensive, a little more careful about what came out of their mouths- I guessed that his inexperience with the press made him a bit more chatty, and I didn’t mind one little bit. He spoke easily and happily on his history with the club, from player to coach, and I found myself growing fond of him even over the course of the conversation. He was smart and sharp, even if he was a little naïve about what the big leagues might mean for them.

  An hour of conversation flew by like it was nothing, and he looked down at his watch.

  “Shit,” he cursed, and then held up his hand in apology. “The guys’ll be here any second. You want to wait out on the court and I’ll introduce you?”

  “Sure thing,” I agreed, following him as he opened the door for me and then led me down the corridor to the pitch. The place was a little run-down and in need of a new coat of paint, but it had a nice atmosphere, warm and communal. I sat in one of the seats closest to the pitch and pulled out my notebook, hoping something interesting would happen, something that would give me the hook I needed to get things going.

  After a few minutes, Johnson reappeared, this time followed by a ragtag line-up of fifteen or so guys. I didn’t recognize any of them from the cuttings I’d received in my press packet- except one. I couldn’t place his name, but I remembered his face- peppered with a little dark stubble, dark eyes peering out from a pale face. I couldn’t see his hair under his helmet, but I remembered it being dark and thick. He stood a little taller than me, and even under his armor I could tell that he was relatively slim. I frowned slightly, making a mental note to re-read all my notes so I had a better idea of who I was looking at when I got back to my apartment.

  Training began, and Johnson started by getting all of them to run drills, little two-versus-two games, some ball control, some stick control. I could tell that he was showing off a little, making sure I knew what his team could do. I had seen it so many times before when I came to cover a team, the coach wanting to make sure that I left with a perfect opinion of his team’s skill. And they were good, I had to admit. I had covered my local hockey team when I was back in college, and watching them practice brought me straight back to how that felt. How grown-up and new it all was back then. I tucked my hands into my pockets. Now that was one thing I had forgotten, how fucking cold it always was at places like this. No surprise, thanks to the hundred or so feet of ice sharing the room with us, but still.

  A training match started up, with Johnson calling direction from the sidelines, and the guy I’d noticed before, there was a reason they’d pushed him so much in the press pack, obviously. He was good. Really good. Fast, aggressive, moving up the left side of the field like it was nothing. He made it all look so easy- I found myself watching his every move, focusing in on the way his stick darted across the ice, the way he seemed to square up to his teammates before plunging past them and putting another goal away. Yeah, this was just training, but the boy had real talent.

  Before long, training seemed to come to an end. I’d scrawled down a few notes as it went by, mostly about the atmosphere in the place and the aggression of Johnson’s coaching style. Johnson waved me over as the players trailed off the rink, and put his hand on the door to stop them leaving.

  “We’ve got a new member of the team to introduce to you today, boys,” Johnson announced loudly as I made my way across the stadium towards him. “This is Emily Tennsion. She’s going to be writing a story on us for the big newspaper she works at. So be nice.”

  There was a firmness to the last two words that made me wonder if they’d had problems with the press before. But before I had much of a chance to linger on that notion, one of the guys had peeled off his helmet and was giving me an up-and-down.

  “You want to come for a drink with us tonight?” He flashed me a smile. I didn’t recognize him. He was a little older than the rest of the team, with messy blonde hair that fell down to his neck. “Get the full experience?”

  I exchanged a look with Johnson, who shrugged, and I turned back to the guy who’d asked me.

  “Sounds good!” I agreed. “Where are we going?”

  A chuckle went around the team, and the smile solidified on my face; was I being stupid or something?

  “There’s only one bar we drink at,” the guy I’d noticed on the ice was speaking now, reaching up to take his helmet off. I swear to God, it happened in slow motion- he shook his hair loose, and it fell in thick dark waves to his chin. He flashed me a smile, and I found myself blushing-blushing! Like some kind of giggling schoolgirl!

  “And what one might that be?” I knew I was playing a game, knew I just had to get them on my side, but I wasn’t sure how.

  “Where are you staying?” He asked.

  “Pollok Street,” I replied.

  “I’ll pick you up at seven,” he suggested, cocking his head and raising his eyebrows at me. He was challenging me, daring me to say yes. Well, I could goddamn use a drink. I scanned the faces of the other guys, seeing if there was something I was missing, but they seemed to be regarding me with the same challenging expression that he was. Well, if it was a challenge they wanted, it was a challenge they’d get.

  “Sounds great,” I smiled in return, and made my way down past the team. I nodded my thanks at Johnson for his help.

  “I’ll see you this evening,” I promised, and made my way out to my car, trying to keep the smile off my face. The air was cold outside, and I rubbed my hands together. After everything that had brought me here, I finally had something to look forward to. And that felt pretty damn good.

  Chapter Four

  I needed this night out.

  I always did. I wasn’t good at sitting at home doing nothing, as last night had reminded me. I’d visited my parent’s house after I got the news, trying to find something that made me feel at home and normal and not as though I might be about to change everything in my life forever. But all it had done was remind me of why I might want to leave in the first place.

  I pushed those thou
ghts from my head, and slipped into a shower. Ah, the water pressure was good for once. I had lived in this place since I left home, even though I could probably afford somewhere nicer by now. I was a creature of habit at my very heart, and besides, moving somewhere new would be a hassle.

  Just like moving to Philadelphia would be. I had tried to keep the decision out of my brain since the night before, determined to keep focused on training and everything else until I felt like I knew for certain one way or the other, but it was hard. I’d slept badly last night, tossing and turning as I went over the implications of each decision in my head. I was bad at this. Which was why I planned to go out and get utterly wasted tonight.

  I climbed out of the shower, got dressed, and threw on a pair of jeans and a shirt. And I would get to see that cute journalist again. I was surprised when she agreed to come out with us, doubly so when she raised her eyebrows and shrugged and said that I could take her there. I’d noticed her watching me in training, and hell, I was watching her right back. I knew practically everyone in this town, and having some fresh blood was…exciting. She was exactly my type, too: short, dark hair, blue eyes. Some of my teammates always teased me, because they thought that I tended to go for women who looked just like me. Well, call me a narcissist, because I was seriously into this Emily woman.

  I stepped outside and rubbed my hands together. It was freezing out, and it was only just past the last month of summer. Where had all that hot, hazy heat gone to? I climbed into my car and turned the heating up as high as it would go, and then realized that I had no idea which apartment she would be staying in. I guess I would just have to go up and down the street a few times and hope for the best. That was, if she hadn’t chickened out by now, of course.

  To my surprise, I found her standing on the street, wrapped in an enormous grey jacket, by the time I came around. I leaned over to the window, winding it down and gesturing to her.

  “Hey, Emily!”

  She jumped a little, and turned towards the sound of my voice. She flashed me a grin as she slipped into the front seat next to me. The rest of the street was dead, which was a relief. I knew if anyone was caught picking up this new chick, it would be the talk of the town.

  “Thanks for giving me a lift,” she placed her hands over the heaters to warm herself up. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see,” I responded, and she rolled her eyes.

  “Oh, come on, quit with the mysterious crap,” she ordered, her voice playful but firm. “Or I might just jump out right here.”

  “All right, all right,” I sighed. “We’re going to Dino’s.”

  “And what’s so special about Dino’s?” She looked out the window, taking in the streets we were passing through. I wondered how long she’d been here, and how long she’d be staying.

  “It’s just been our bar for a long time,” I explained. “They let us drink for free there after matches and it can get…pretty wild.”

  “Oh yeah?” She leaned towards me, interested, and I noticed that she was wearing a skirt. It eased up over her legs to expose he knee, and I wondered how she would react if I reached out and put my hand on her bare flesh. I shook the thought from my head, and turned my eyes back to the road.

  “Yeah,” I shrugged. “Fights, hook-ups, that kind of thing.”

  “What, all taking place at this bar?”

  “Yeah,” I flashed her a smile. “Sometimes, uh, on the bar.”

  “You serious?” Her eyes widened in surprise.

  “Well, after everyone else has gone,” I replied. “It’s just…you’re going to be in for a wild night, I promise you that.”

  “I come from the city, I’m sure I’ll be all right,” she dismissed me playfully. Our eyes met in the mirror, and I raised my eyebrows.

  “That sounds like a challenge,” I remarked.

  “Maybe it is,” she shot back.

  “What kind of shit did you get up to in the city, then?” I wondered out loud. Apart from when we travelled for matches, I hadn’t spent a full night anywhere but here. That said, I’d heard some pretty incredible stuff about the urban nightlife around these parts. Maybe she could give me the inside scoop.

  “Oh, everything,” she shrugged. “Anything you could imagine, really. And then some.”

  “You’re not giving me any details,” I pointed out.

  “I’m trying to keep some kind of professional demeanor,” she protested.

  “Might as well give that up now.”

  Suddenly, we were outside Dino’s. I pulled us up to a stop in the parking lot, and could already see that the guys had got the party started inside. Emily cocked an eyebrow as we got out of the car, taking in the mish-mash of voices and music and the clink of glasses.

  “You ready?” I dared her, and she lifted her chin and met my gaze.

  “For anything.”

  Chapter Five

  When was the last time I’d had this much to drink? I could tell you one thing for sure: long enough that I had forgotten how much damn fun it was!

  When Sam had given me that big talk in the car about what a crazy night it was going to be and how my city ass wasn’t prepared for it one little bit, I was so ready to dismiss him as talking the talk in front of the new girl so she would think he was a big man. But no, it really was as intense as all that.

  I grabbed another shot from the bar, purchased for me by one of the regulars, I was told, and tossed it back in one. I screwed up my face at the sourness, shook my head, and held my hands up. The team, crowded around a small table at the other end of the room, cheered loudly for me.

  I sashayed my way back over to them, and leaned up against Sam’s chair. He looked up at me with this stupid-cute crooked grin on his face, and cocked his head at me.

  “You doing good?”

  “Great!” I exclaimed. “Anyone want to come dance with me?”

  “We don’t really dance here,” Nathan, the goalkeeper, remarked, exchanging a look with the rest of the guys around the table.

  “Then why is there music?” I countered. He opened his mouth, but before he could protest any further, I grabbed Sam’s hand and pulled him to his feet.

  “Come on. Dance with me.” I ordered, and he held his other hand up and led me towards a spot in the bar with a little more space. I could feel the eyes of the rest of the team on me, but I ignored them as a song came on that I adored and I wrapped my arms around Sam’s neck.

  “Having a good time?” he murmured, just loud enough that I could hear it. I nodded.

  “Amazing,” I replied, looking up at him and swaying back and forth. I wasn’t that drunk, but I was letting off a hell of a lot of steam. Maybe this wasn’t the best way to get my story, but you had to live among your charges to really understand them, right? Besides, this particular bit didn’t have to go in the article. I slid my hips closer to Sam, and his hands drifted further down my back, and I knew with an absolute certainty where this night was going.

  I was most surprised by the reaction the team got when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know who they were, everyone was pleased to see them, and eager to buy them a drink. Sam told me it hadn’t always been like that, that the smiles and the pats on the back and the offers for a free beer or seven hadn’t come in until they’d started their winning streak not too long ago. I could tell they were wary of it They enjoyed the attention, but they knew that it could all drop away if they didn’t keep up their end of the bargain.

  I could tell that there were eyes on us, but I didn’t give a damn. After getting dumped and struggling to right myself after moving across the country for this stupid story, I deserved to have a little fun. I felt Sam’s lips brush against my hair, and wondered how many girls in this town he’d hooked up with. Was he a stud in high school, or had that only arrived with his success? I had noticed a fair few girls eyeing him when he went up to buy drinks or talk to me, and I wasn’t sure whether they were jealous of me or pitying. Either way, I didn’t care. There was enough booze
in my system to make me think this was a good idea, to push from my mind the reminder that I would have to work with this guy and his teammates for the next few months. So what if things got awkward? I was a big girl, I could take it. I was here for the story, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t use my access to a team of gorgeous young men to help me get over the worst break-up I’d ever had.

  Before I knew it, the song had ended, and a few people had started to trail from the bar. Sam turned back to his teammates, a couple of whom were reaching for their wallets and sidling up to the bar to settle the tab.

  “You guys heading out?”

  “Yeah,” one of them (I forgot his name) shrugged. “See you tomorrow, though?”

  “Sure thing,” he replied, and a couple of them flashed him those smiles, you know the ones, the “you’re gonna get laid tonight” smiles. It was as if I wasn’t standing there, wasn’t capable of guessing what they were hinting towards. In all honesty, though? I was too horny to think about much beyond getting Sam back to my apartment and out of his clothes. He ran a hand down my back, as if he knew what I was thinking and was reminding me that hey, babe, don’t worry, I got you.

  I settled up my tab. Sam didn’t offer to pay, which was a relief, because I didn’t want to be one of those chicks who simpers and swoons while a guy covers her booze for her. We made our way outside, his arm tucked tight around my waist. He was lightly stroking me with his thumb, and even the slight movement was sending electric shocks across my body.

  “You want me to take you home?” he asked, and smiled and shook his head at his phrasing. “Sorry, I mean, you want me to give you a lift back to your place?”

  “Sure,” I nodded, feeling a little wobbly on my feet, and it had more to do with his presence than the booze. How was I supposed to take it from here? It had been so long since I had slept with someone new that I felt like all my mechanisms were rusty, that I’d need re-doing. We slipped into the car, and Sam reached for his keys, and in that split second, I just went for it.