Fresh Ice (13 page)

Why would Quinn Murray possibly have an interest in me?

Izzy realized, as Cat continued her cheerful monologue, she rather liked the fact that he wanted to know more about her.

***

Benny stared at Quinn. “Since when are we devoting almost an hour of prime NFL discussion time to Vanderbilt volleyball? Vanderbilt women’s volleyball? Why, Quinn, why?”

Because I’m insane.
Quinn rubbed his eyes, knowing full well that Benny’s questions were harmless compared to the grilling awaiting at Serena’s hands.
I stalk Izzy all the way to her new place and ask that girl with the weird hair a bunch of questions about Jenna, and why? Just so I can spend some time talking about her on the show? Am I that desperate to have a reason to think about Izzy?

Yes.

“I just think that we should look at the other sports in town, not just what the Titans are doing. The Titans play once a week. And the Predators just started preseason. So what if I want to spend a few minutes talking about a women’s volleyball team that could win the national title?”

“Because it’s women’s sports, dude. It’s fine if you want to give it a nod if they actually do win the national title. But you spent an hour taking questions about Vanderbilt women’s volleyball.”

“It wasn’t a full hour. It was two calls.”

“That’s because those were the only two people who called in! The rest of the time it was you, reading stats and talking about a couple of the freshman players. Dude, did you hook up with a college freshman on the team and promise you’d make her a star with this show?”

“No, Benny, I did not hook up with one of the freshmen on the team.”
I’ve worshiped the mother of one of the freshmen my entire adult life.

The red light on the intercom flashed. Benny shook his head. “This might be the first time I do not envy you, dude. Not even a little bit.”

Quinn set his headphones on the table and left the booth and headed for Serena’s office.

Her door was ajar. “Don’t bother knocking, Quinn, just come in here and shut the door.”

He obeyed, and stood next to the closed door awaiting her next command.

“Sit.”

Ever the obedient pet, he sat.

“Quinn, what the hell was that?”

“What?”

“You spent nearly an hour discussing Vanderbilt women’s volleyball. Why would you spend more than thirty seconds on that topic? Tell me you’re not stalking someone on the team.”

“Of course not. I just thought, hey, the team looks like a contender this year, why not give them a little time?”

Serena tapped a pen to her lips. “You mentioned one name more than once. Marks…Jenna Marks. That’s not any relation, is it, to Jason?” Her eyes narrowed, cat like and cold.

A chill ran through Quinn.
I never thought of that. Of course she’d make the connection. Shit.
“Or course not, Serena. Of the thousands of college kids in this town, how likely is it that I manage to find the one who just happens to be the daughter of your arch nemesis?” He hoped his smile would soften her taught features. It didn’t.

“Don’t mock me, Quinn. I hate to be mocked.”

“I’m not mocking you, I swear. It has to be a monumental coincidence, that’s all.”
Make her believe it, or there’s a very real possibility Jenna will be in danger, you big idiot.
“Besides, don’t you remember, Jason’s daughter died.”

“What?”

Quinn closed his eyes, praying his fiction would sound real. “Yeah, I was there one time with Jason and he was really upset and he just blurted out that it was the anniversary of his daughter’s death.”

Serena’s posture eased, the warning bells stopped ringing in Quinn’s head. “Jason told you that?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t like we ever made pleasant chit chat, but I remember he told me that.”

A shadow fell away from her and Serena resumed her air of all business. “Very well. But just so I’m very clear on this; unless a women’s team actually wins a championship, we stick to the sports people actually care about. Understood?”

Quinn nodded, unable to believe the storm had passed.

“Good. Now, go on. But don’t go far. I may want to see you tonight.”

Quinn opened the door and breathed the relatively fresh air of the outer office. “Of course.” He closed the door behind him and made his escape.

Mid October always meant one thing for Quinn: the official start of the NHL season, when he spent more time away from home than at home. For the past three years, Quinn enjoyed traveling with the radio station, covering the Predators. It was an escape from Serena, and a return, if in a limited capacity, to a life he loved.

Now, however, as he strode through the Detroit airport on a gloomy Friday night, ready to board a plane headed back to Nashville, Quinn was mired in a deep well of homesickness. The Make-a-Wish event was nearing. He dreaded the day, not because he was unprepared, but because once the event was over, the Preds were slated for a ten day road trip. The thought of a ten day road trip, away from Izzy’s cheerful greeting at the Waffle house darkened his mood.
Away from the only thing about my life that’s good.

Quinn marveled, as he made his way through the crowded airport, at how close he and Izzy were after two short months. He liked to think they were two lost souls who had no one else in the whole world.

Well, that’s not true. Izzy has Jenna and Mikayla. She’s got that girl, Cat.

I’ve got Benny.

Still, it hadn’t taken long to become a regular fixture at her Waffle House. He liked to watch her move among the late night patrons, smiling, pouring coffee, sharing mildly funny anecdotes about being a night owl. While he nursed endless cups of coffee, and more mushroom covered eggs than one man should eat, Quinn learned more about her than he ever could have taking her out on actual dates.

When it was quiet in the restaurant, they talked. They talked about everything touching on the present and the future. Quinn learned little about Izzy’s past he did not already know: She rarely spoke of Jason, and when she did, she didn’t mention him by name. While she spoke quietly of mistakes in her past, she didn’t elaborate, nor did she try to push Quinn to reveal much about his past. He liked that. She seemed to sense where the closed door was in his heart. Instead of trying to dig deeper, she accepted him for exactly what he was to her; a completely decent guy who could make her laugh.

I can reinvent myself with her.

They exchanged cell phone numbers the first weekend of the NHL season, when Quinn admitted that he had no emergency contact other than the radio station. It wasn’t something he liked admitting. In fact, he wasn’t even sure how she got that piece of information out of him.

“What, there’s no one they call to sit by your hospital bed if you get hit in the face with a puck?” Her face was very serious, a rare expression for her.

“Most of the time I sit in the booth way above the ice. Someone would have to be aiming for me, and firing a puck from a T-shirt cannon to get it up where I sit.”

“Still,” she tore a check off her order pad and wrote her number on it. “Put this in your phone. That way, they can call me.”

“You’ll sit by my hospital bed?” He immediately entered the number into his phone. “Even if I’m far away, like Vancouver or something?”

“I’d have to update my passport, but sure. That’s what friends do.”

He chose to ignore the part about being friends. “Well, I suppose you should have my number then, too.” He tried to be cool, but a surge of adrenalin rushed through him and his hand trembled as he wrote his number on a napkin. “In case you have any grit mishaps or something.”

She pocketed the napkin and smiled. “You never know. Those college boys might come back.”

“Not on my watch.”

Her smile at his flip comment was angelic. “I believe you’re right. I believe I’m safe with you around.”

While he hadn’t abused this new privilege of her phone number, Quinn had, in subsequent weeks, found little reasons to call her. He often used Vanderbilt’s volleyball schedule as an excuse, and as an excuse to see Izzy, who made as much time as she could to watch Jenna and Mikayla play.

I didn’t watch this much college volleyball in college when I was trying to score.

Isn’t that sort of how it is now?

Quinn pictured Izzy, handing him a cup of coffee and a smile.
No, this is completely different.

Reaching his gate, Quinn set his traveling case down and looked around for Benny. It was his request that Benny work on the road this season. Benny’s loud personality covered Quinn’s own lack of interest in any conversation that wasn’t with or about Izzy.

“Quinn! Over here man!” Benny waved to him.

“Hey there, Benny. Bob. Sorry, I had to make a phone call and reception seemed spotty over here.”

“What he means is that he had to call a lady friend and didn’t want us overhearing. Isn’t that right?” Benny nudged Quinn in the ribs.

Like I’m going to admit to you that I call Izzy to ask her about Jenna’s volleyball games and what the flavor of the month is at the coffee shop just so I can talk to her for five minutes?

“No Benny, you know he and the Boss Lady are exclusive. Nope, our friend here is getting older, slower, fatter.” Bob patted Quinn’s flat stomach. “Happens to the best of us, buddy.”

“Now that you mention it, he has been coming in smelling less like a gym and more like a Waffle House.” Benny chuckled. “Here I thought finally getting on the road with Quinn Murray would mean the Benster would get some action. Just my luck, I’m on the road during his epic fast food phase.”

Quinn joined in the laughter. “Benny, I swear, as long as you never call yourself the ‘Benster’ again, I will find you a woman.”

Benny grew serious. “You’re not kidding? Really? You’ve got a woman for me?”

The whole idea of picking up any woman for a one night stand, even for Benny, nauseated Quinn.
Those days really are over
. Quinn brushed his hair back and thought for a moment. “If I do, Benny, it won’t be a hook up. It’ll be something better.”

Benny and Bob stared at him for a moment, and burst out laughing.

“Oh that’s rich, Quinn. You, the world class womanizer, you’re going to bestow a grand romance on anyone, especially on Benny?” Bob laughed. “What on earth would you know about romance?”

The image of Izzy, smiling at him in her Waffle House uniform, sprang to Quinn’s mind, and he smiled.
Not much. But I’m learning.

Izzy poured what felt like her millionth cup of coffee of the night. An icy cold snap forced the area’s homeless indoors, and, by the looks of the packed booths, the shelters were full. She didn’t mind. Working nights for several weeks, Izzy realized she got a great sense of satisfaction in the simple things. A hot cup of coffee, a kind word, a pat on the back, these were the things that meant so much to people with so little. The realization made Izzy feel light in a way she hadn’t since her skating days.

Not a lot in the way of money, true, but at least I feel like I’m contributing something.

In spite of how busy she was, Izzy found herself thinking about Quinn. What started as a surprise meeting and a cup of coffee was now an easy friendship, one Izzy couldn’t picture living without.

With Jenna and Mikayla so busy in school, and with Collier, who checked in by phone twice a week, on the road with his band all the time, Nashville was a lonely place for Izzy. Even though they really didn’t talk about anything serious, Izzy looked forward to seeing Quinn in his usual seat at the counter. In private moments, Izzy felt as if he was watching over her, like some self appointed guardian angel.
And who wouldn’t want a ridiculously hot guardian angel?

She valued this unexpected bond with the former hockey player. Sometimes she considered telling Quinn her whole story, but always thought the better of it.
So many people look up to him and I’m the world’s big disappointment.

Oddly enough, though the place was packed tonight, Quinn’s seat at the counter was empty. Waiting, like Izzy, for him to fill the space with his warmth.

The door opened, letting some of the sharp air in. There was a general grumble from the assembled patrons, and Izzy quietly scolded the two men at the counter. “You don’t know who needs a warm spot tonight, so shush.”

She set the coffee pot on the warmer and turned back to the counter. “What will it be? I’ll have fresh coffee in…Quinn!” She cheered, scooting around the end of the counter and hugging him. “When did you get home?”

Quinn settled on the stool, his beautiful eyes tired, but smiling at her. “I dropped Benny at his place and came over here. I needed a cup of coffee from my favorite waitress.”

“Well, give it a minute. I’ve got three fresh pots brewing.”

“This place is packed. Are you alone here?” Quinn looked around and wrinkled his nose. “You’ve got some colorful folks in here tonight.”

“One of the other girls couldn’t make it in, but I’m not alone, Carlo’s in back.” Izzy shrugged and picked up a coffee pot. “It’s cold out. Folks need a place to go.”