Fresh Ice (24 page)

Tric
nodded.

“Good, ‘cause you’re starting.”

Whoop.

“
CoLa? Tonight’s your night.”

Whoop
.

“Then we’re going with Hollywood, Ace and Fist. And
Con’s in the cage.”

T
he team hooped, hollered and clapped as they filed out of the locker room. Ritual handshakes, high-fives and fist bumps commenced. Cody stood in the hallway and patted everyone on their way by.

When Nathan pulled his mask down over his face it was like turning on a switch. It was business time. He didn’t carry a
briefcase, he was in the business of stopping pucks even if that meant floundering around like a wounded butterfly.

Nathan
glided over to the net and skated formations in front of the crease. Then he tapped his stick on the posts, left, right, left, right. It wasn’t out of superstition, just repetition to get his mind focused on the game.

H
e sat in his crouch and looked to the left side of the ice at the top of the hash marks and did some visualization. He pretended there was a puck there waiting for a shot and stared at that spot for a few seconds. Then he stared at the middle for a few seconds and then at the right side.

After the introductions
, national anthem and pre-game hoopla, the puck was finally dropped at center ice. Two seconds later, the Warriors took possession of the puck and whacked away at it in Nathan’s end.

Instantly, he
felt his adrenaline start pumping and he blocked out the sounds of the game--his teammates shouting, the blades and stick scraping across the ice, the fans screaming at the top of their lungs--and focused on the little black piece of rubber sliding across the ice. He anticipated its direction and slid to block the vulnerable side of the net. It bounced in front of him and he stuck his glove over it until the ref blew the whistle.

It was a good save and one of many Nathan knew he’d need to make in the next few hours. Once again, when play resumed, Nathan found himself facing
the opposing team as they peppered shots in his direction. The Razors defensemen were no match for the other team’s skill and determination.

Nathan had played against the Warriors plenty of times in the past and had no trouble holding them off
before. Unfortunately, today wasn’t one of those times. They were like maniacs, shooting the puck every chance they got and the puck kept finding its way in to Nathan’s crease.

With no help from his teammates, Nathan
battled as hard as he could but time after time the puck whizzed by him and into the net until the score was 3-0.

The last goal added to Nathan’s building frustration.
Out of the three saves he could have made--glove, blocker, and stick--he’d failed to keep the puck out of the net. Every time he did something he wasn’t happy with, Nathan thought about what he should’ve done instead.

Nathan glanced over at the bench and saw Coach Baker whispering something to the assistant coach. They were discussing whether or not to pull him and put TJ in the net.

Nathan couldn’t let that happen. He rolled his neck around to loosen up his shoulders. Tapping his stick on the pipes, he recited his mantra, “Focus. Calm. Cool. You’ve got this, Con.” The words usually helped him get into the right mindset but this time it wasn’t enough.

During the next play, a Warriors player got a breakaway and skated toward Nathan. He tried to anticipate where the puck would go
as the player wound up the shot and fired. The puck squeaked through between his legs.

It all happened in slow motion, but by the time he squeezed his knees together to stop it, it
was too late. The player who scored pumped his gloved hands in the air as his teammates crowded around him to celebrate. Nathan cursed, raised up his mask, rested it on his forehead and took a swig from his water bottle.

Coach Baker motioned to him and he knew it was over.
TJ skated out to replace him and began his warm-up stretches. Being pulled from the game was humiliating and a huge blow to Nathan’s confidence.

As Nathan skated toward the
tunnel, he flashed back to a similar game two years ago.
No, not again
. The game had been much the same and the outcome identical.

T
his time, instead of repeating his past mistakes, Nathan stared straight ahead, ignored the fans’ yelling their opinions of his performance and hurried into the tunnel.

The
fifty pounds of equipment caused Nathan to wobble down the hall and into the locker room. Emotions welled up and he slammed his mask down and threw his stick across the room. He punched his fist into the wall and cursed in frustration.

This wasn’t the big comeback
Nathan had in mind.

Chapter Seventeen

By the Light of the
Frigidaire

Demons from the past prevented Sarah from finding sleep. Thirsty and exhausted from tossing and turning, she sat up and rubbed her eyes.

If anything, she should be able to sleep like a baby in
Nathan’s big, comfy bed but her brain just wouldn’t turn off.

Once again,
her belly was full. This time too much pizza and breadsticks were to blame. Dinner with Kayla and Robbie had been fun though, and completely worth it. Nathan had still been at the NorCal Center when Kayla brought Sarah home that evening. Apparently the Razors had lost the game and Sarah felt terrible for him.

The pizza must have made her extra thirsty because she was positively parched.

Deciding a glass of water might help, Sarah got out of bed and headed for the kitchen. Everyone must have gone to bed because the house was quiet and dark.

S
arah tiptoed down the hall and into the kitchen on bare feet. She’d never been able to do that at Dwight’s house. There was always the danger of stepping on a used needle or a cockroach or a smoldering cigarette. Not here. The oatmeal colored carpet at Nathan’s house was so thick, plush and clean that Sarah was almost afraid to walk on it for fear of soiling it. At Dwight’s there was so much dirt and cigarette ash ground into the carpet, the original color was a mystery.

Someone had left the light on over the stove and it cast a warm glow over the kitchen. It was a beautiful kitchen. It was a beautiful
house
. Sarah found herself imagining it was
her
kitchen and
her
house. It would be the perfect kitchen to cook big meals in for a growing family. And to bake cookies in the fancy shiny stainless steel oven. She’d even make cupcakes and wouldn’t mix up the salt and sugar like Abigail did.

Goodness, she’d let her imagination run away with her!

Those were dangerous thoughts. This wasn’t her house
or
her kitchen. And Nathan wasn’t hers either. She didn’t belong here or with him. This type of life was only an illusion. A short term arrangement while she figured out her next move.

Sarah
was happy with what she had. It was a whole lot of nothing but she wasn’t about to get caught up in someone else’s reality. She knew who she was and where she came from. She might not know exactly where she was going but she’d get there eventually.

S
arah walked around the bar to the sink, running her hand over the countertop--was it granite or marble?--as she went.

Carefully, she took a glass out of the cabinet--was it oak or maple or some other beautiful
wood?--and filled it with water from the stainless steel sink.

Sarah turned around and when she raised the glass to her lips she saw Nathan standing in the doorway. His hair was disheveled and his chest
bare. He wore a pair of navy blue boxers and nothing else. He was lean yet muscular and a beautiful sight for weary eyes.

Sarah sucked in a breath and immediately blushed. She opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was suddenly too dry, so she took a sip of water first. “Sorry,” she said, gripping the glass in her trembling hands. “Did I wake you?”

His eyes were shadowed in the dim light and she couldn’t quite read them. Not like they ever gave anything away anyway.

“No,” he said, his voice low and husky. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Sorry, you’re used to sleeping in your own bed.”

He wished she’d stop apologizing for everything. “No,” he lied. It wasn’t because she was in his bed
that he couldn’t sleep. It was more like because he wasn’t in it with her. “Not really. When the team is on the road, I sleep in a different bed every other night.”

He came toward her and
Sarah gripped the glass tighter.

“You don’t have to drink from the tap,” he told her. “There’s bottled water in the fridge.” He opened the refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of Gatorade and took a
long swig.

She watched his throat move as he swallowed.
“That’s okay,” she said softly. “I don’t mind.”

God
, he thought. Everything about the girl was soft. Her skin, her hair, even her voice.

S
arah finished the water, turned back to the sink and scrubbed the glass clean with a sponge and squirt of dish soap.

“You don’t have to do that. Just put it in the dishwasher.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “I’m not used to having a dishwasher.” In fact, she wasn’t used to having any working appliances. She stretched on her tiptoes to put the glass back in the cupboard and Nathan reached for it.

“Here
,” he said.

When he took
the glass from her a jolt went through her system. Then his arm brushed hers ever so slightly when he reached up and put the glass back on the shelf.

Sarah’s
first instinct was to shy away but she didn’t. She held her ground, testing him to see when he’d grab her or lash out. She knew he would. All men did. It was just a matter of time before he got angry enough.

Instead,
Nathan leaned down and put his lips to hers. It was a soft, gentle kiss. Because he knew it had to be.

Before she could react, it was over.

She held her breath, waiting for the slap or for teeth to bite or for a hard pinch.
Something
. But they never came.

When she finally opened her eyes, Nathan stood watching her. The only sound was the hum of the refrigerator and the inhale of her breath.

“Sorry. I should go back to bed.” She whirled around and hurried back to the bedroom.

When she slid between the sheets, she was out of breath. Not from the sprint down the hall, but from that kiss. Oh,
that sweet, sweet kiss. It was the single, most tender moment of her life and she would cherish it forever.

She pressed her palms to her cheeks to find them hot. Who knew it was possible? Who knew such tenderness could come from a man?
When she swallowed, her throat was dryer than when she’d first gone in the kitchen.

She probably should’ve asked about his game but all logical thought escaped from between her ears. It could have been the early hour or the fact that he was shirtless.

He’d been gentle and ever so soft, touching his lips to hers. He’d given the kiss to her and that confused her. Kisses weren’t a gift where she came from. They were taken when a man was drunk and stolen when a man ravaged.

He’d probably wanted more, expected more from her, heck she
was
staying in his house and sleeping in his bed for Pete’s sake. But she’d fled.

No
, she told herself. She wasn’t going to make more out of it then it was.

It had been a beautiful moment and she’d never forget it.

She curled into a ball, snuggled into the fluffy pillow and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Oh, that
kiss
!

Nathan stared up at the ceiling above the sofa. Sarah had been so pretty standing there in his kitchen, the soft light making her glow
like an ethereal being.

He hadn’t been able to help himself so he’d kissed her right where she stood. Now he’d probably gone and scared her off for good. She was fragile and
delicate and didn’t need anyone pawing at her and kissing her for crying out loud.

But he hadn’t pawed at her. Hell, besides her lips, he’d barely touched her.

Oh, those
lips
!

She’d tasted like heaven and it was all he could do to stop when he did. Lips like hers were meant to be savored and tasted again and again.

But he’d only had a split second. A fleeting moment in time and then it was over and she was gone.

She’d even apologized.

Nathan fisted his hands in his hair and rolled over. He wouldn’t have the chance to taste those soft lips again. Because he’d gone and jumped the gun. She was probably already packing her stuff and planning where to live next. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed sleep to come.