Home Ice (2 page)

But she forgot his criticisms from the day before as she watched him take control of the puck and wind his way toward the other end. Opposing players tried their best to get in his path, but he dodged them with unbelievable balance and poise. At one point, two players were coming at him from opposite sides, looking to make a Dylan sandwich, and he
jumped
through the middle at the last possible second, landing on one skate and one knee. Then, he proceeded to dive forward, extending his stick as far as his arm would allow, and used the last of his momentum to crack the puck around the goalie and into the net. Even though they had to be used to playing with him, his teammates looked at each other, bug-eyed and open-mouthed.

“Show off,” she muttered. But
holy crap
.

She felt a pair of eyes on her. Looking over at the players’ bench, she locked stares with the coach. The woman smiled, amused, and motioned her over.

For a minute, she stood frozen. The coach gestured again, so Lori put one boot in front of the other and climbed across the rows of seats until she reached a folding chair next to the Plexiglas of the players’ bench. “Sorry. I’m early for my practice. I didn’t know—”

“It’s all right.” The woman’s voice trilled high and liltingly, completely unexpected. “I’m Nealy Windham. I’ve seen your picture around the arena. Don’t keep up with figure skating, but I admire your dedication.” She lifted her voice. “Some of the girls on my team could learn from you.” A few players waved her off. The rest didn’t appear to hear. Nealy shook her head and turned back. “Preseason starts tomorrow, and I wanted to sneak in an extra practice. Besides, you’re admiring my players; that means I’m doing a good job.”

“Oh, I wasn’t …” Lori weighed pride-saving denial against the easy truth that would make the coach happy. This was the nicest any non-family member had been to her in years. There were no friends in figure skating. Only competition. “Okay, I was admiring. They’re impressive. I didn’t know hockey players could be so …”

“Graceful? Not many people know that about this sport. Cole in particular, eh?”

“Ah …” She pressed her lips together in the middle of another denial. The coach wasn’t necessarily insinuating that she’d been pining after Dylan. The whole world considered Dylan Cole to be the next Wayne Gretzky. If she disagreed, wouldn’t that be protesting too much?

“He is good. But don’t tell him I said that.” The amendment came out in a rush, making the coach laugh.

The petite woman winked at her, then returned to studying the action on ice. “Said what?”

Lori let out a puff of breath and relaxed in the folding chair. As the team recuperated from the show-stopping goal, they began to notice her presence. At first it was one guy, then two. Then the pointing and nudging started, and soon they were all looking at her. Like a zoo exhibit. The coach cleared her throat and raised her tinny voice. “Let’s get back to it. I want to see Collier on a line with Kas and Cole. Reese, you swap out with Simmy and let him take some shots.”

Without question or hesitation, the players complied with the encoded commands, and Lori was invisible once again. With one exception. Dylan watched her with a sly smile as he skated backward toward the playoff circle. She wished he’d trip or bump into someone and knock the smug expression off his face, but no luck. Mr. Charmed Life was error-proof on skates. Must be nice.

She stayed for the rest of the practice, and aside from an occasional glance from Dylan, no one paid attention to her. Most likely, they were too afraid of their coach. The rules were a little fuzzy, but the purpose was clear, and it was
exciting
. She almost jumped out of her seat when someone checked a player into the glass right in front of her. It shook and bowed but straightened out, and neither man seemed worse for the wear. In fact, they were laughing as they fought for the puck.

A whistle screech just about stopped her heart. It
did
stop every man on the ice. Simultaneously. It was kind of creepy.

“All right, ladies, hit the showers. Rest up for tomorrow’s game. Preseason does not mean it’s all right to slack off. It may not count in the standings, but it sure as hell counts with me.”

The guys filed off, down the tunnel to the locker room, and Nealy shot her a smile before heading up to the main concourse. Dylan hung back, taking a few more shots on net, but if it was for her benefit, she couldn’t tell, because he didn’t take his eyes off the ice. When he finally unsnapped his helmet and skated for the door, his face went blank like he’d forgotten she was there. Flattering. “Oh. Hey. You stuck around.”

“Well, you are on my ice.”

“Yours, huh?” He smiled, and the dimples almost killed her.

“For the next hour, yes.”

“And then?”

“And then the circus comes to town.”

His eyebrows went up. “As in Circus Circus?”

She held back a sigh and stood, slinging her skates over her shoulder. “As in Sin City on Ice.”

“You don’t like it? Aren’t you sort of the star?”

“I’m grateful for the job and the skating time, but I’d rather be hardcore training for the next Olympics than stuck in a show that’s more about fire and feathers than technique and skill. Not to mention the dangerous lifts with a man I barely know. I tried pairs skating as a kid, but it didn’t stick. I’m having trouble trusting myself these days, let alone a random guy who’s even handsier
off
the ice …”
What am I doing?
It was the most she’d said to anyone in months, but the open interest in his eyes made the words tumble out.

“He giving you trouble?” His soft voice went serious, and he planted the blade of his stick on the floor, his big shoulders squared, his face looking like he was ready to do something about it.

Despite her best efforts to stay annoyed at him, warm tingles spread through her. “I can handle it.”

“I, uh, thought most guys who got into that were …”

“Gay?”

His face already flushed from the practice turned a shade darker, and she grinned.

“A lot of them are, but not all. I swear some skate just for the slanted ratio of women to men.”

“Well, if he goes over the line, let me know.”

Damn those tingles. The image of Dylan with his baby face and superhero body knocking out some of Bradley’s DayGlo white teeth made her laugh. “Sure.”

“I guess I should …” he gestured toward the locker room.

“Yeah.”
Say something else
. But nothing came to mind. This was the longest conversation she’d had with anyone in a long time. At least anyone who wasn’t family or someone who smiled at her face only to snark at her back.

“See you around?” He’d made it a question even though it was certain they’d bump into each other again at some point. Did he want to be sure?

Play it cool
.

“See you around.”
In my daydreams. Naked.

He started down the tunnel, looked over his shoulder, and smiled at her again before pushing through the doors.

The Zamboni cleared the ice, and for the next hour, she went through her old routine on autopilot while her brain was stuck on the hockey hotshot who knew nothing more than her name but still wanted to defend her honor. Was he for real?

Still thinking about those chocolate eyes that gave away every emotion as he had it, she wound up and jumped, spinning through the air. She landed and went into the next sequence. It wasn’t until she went into the backward crossovers that it hit her. Relief flooded from head to toe, followed by a bigger wave of fear. What if she couldn’t do it again?

Vaughn Manor

Dylan pulled up the horseshoe drive and parked behind Madden Vaughn’s Escalade. Having your best friend for a roommate was awesome. Most of the time. Except Madden’s girlfriend, Saralynn, had more or less moved in, and he and Mad didn’t get much hang out time anymore. But Saralynn was currently at work as head of the Sinners’ PR department, and it looked like Madden was working from home today.

Dylan swung in the front door and dropped his hockey bag by the coat rack. “Marco!”

“Polo!” The reply echoed from the kitchen.

“Hey, man. Tell me there’s leftovers. I’m starving.” Dylan went straight to the fridge.

“Yeah, spaghetti and meatballs in the back on the middle shelf. Saved you some.”

“Thanks.” He grabbed the Tupperware, cracked the lid, and stuck it in the microwave while retrieving a fork. Madden was sitting on a stool at the island, his eyes glued to the laptop in front of him while he shoveled spaghetti into his mouth. Multitasking.

The microwave beeped. Dylan collected his food and sat beside his friend to eat. Hard to stop thinking about Lorelai in that bright purple leotard that didn’t do a great job hiding … anything. Not that a single inch of her was worth hiding. The back of his neck warmed, and he could only hope it didn’t spread to the rest of his face. He had no right thinking of her like that. They’d barely just met, and damned if he’d be anything like the ass who was taking advantage of her.

“Earth to Cole.” Madden was staring at him.

“Huh?”

“I asked how practice went. You okay, dude? You looked like you were … having a moment.”

If his face wasn’t red before, it sure as hell had to be now. “Oh. Practice was practice. I met someone after. Lorelai Kelly.”

“Oh yeah? I’ve seen her around the arena but never spoken to her. Is she as stuck up as they say?”

“She’s not stuck up.” It came out a little stronger than he intended. Damn.

Madden’s eyebrows climbed, and he grinned the way he did when he knew he found good fodder for beaking. “Holy shit. You’re in love with Princess Ice Capades.”

“I just met her. She’s guarded but nice.”

“On the eyes.”

“A nice person. But yeah, she’s pretty too. And how ’bout I tell Saralynn you said that?”

Madden held up his hands. “Hey. I take it all back. So Lorelai is nice and pretty. You’re sure about the nice thing? Everything I’ve heard points the other way.”

“From people who don’t really know her?”

“From other skaters in the show and … yeah, you’re right. It’s not fair to judge on hearsay. You like her, and your good character radar is finely tuned. After all, you picked a hell of a best friend.”

Dylan snorted.

“You want to ask her out?”

“I don’t know.” Did he? All he knew was his pulse picked up at the thought of running into her again. “She’s interesting. And she’s not just a Vegas show skater. She was an Olympian. She said she’s training again.”

“So you have that in common. Two Olympians. That could either go really well or horribly wrong.”

“Thanks. I don’t know if I want it to go anywhere right now.”

Some of the teasing drained from Madden’s face. “You haven’t dated anyone since Tricia. She broke it off a year ago. I know you’ve been busy, but maybe it’s time to get back out there.”

Dylan had taken two weeks for summer vacation then jumped back into training. Out of dedication, for sure. But had there been another reason? Staying busy, focusing on his career, was an easy way to escape any other kind of involvement. He could have made time. But the thought of picking the wrong person again, of getting close only to have it blow up in his face … it wasn’t worth it. Or it hadn’t been. Lorelai’s piercing green eyes and admirable determination might be enough to change that. Sin City on Ice had a show tonight.

“Hey, man, you got plans later?

Las Vegas Arena

“Half hour to showtime!” The director’s voice carried over the conversations swirling in the dressing room. Lori sat completely still, eyes closed, while Margo, the makeup artist who looked a good deal like Ru Paul with twice the sass, applied three layers of glitter eye shadow and fake lashes long enough they almost reached the tip of her nose.

“Almost done, honey.” Margo dusted her cheeks with extra sparkle dust then put a final coat of gloss on her lips. “Perfection.”

If perfection meant looking like a streetwalker, then sure. Lori smiled. “Thanks, Margo.”

“You’re welcome, darlin’. You’re gonna light up the ice.”

The simple praise went a long way. She didn’t hear it anywhere else. Coaches weren’t for coddling. And once you became an Olympian, people expected you to stay one at any cost. Even your family. As for her cast members … well. She scooted out of the chair, and feeling came back to her legs, starting with little prickles in her feet. Hair and makeup took hours. “Hey, Margo. Did you move my bag?”

“No, hon. Didn’t you set it by the wall?”

She had, but it wasn’t there. Great. She strode to the middle of the room, set her hands on her hips, and lifted her voice. “Okay, funny. Whoever took my bag, please return it. I need my skates.”

Everyone looked at her, but no one responded except for barely checked amusement. Her blood pressure ramped up, but she held her temper down.
I don’t need this
. Except she did. And the fact that her spiteful cast mates knew it made everything worse.

“Haven’t seen your bag. But there’s an extra pair of skates in my locker. You’re a six and a half, right?” Francesca Tooms flashed an innocent smile shaded by the malicious look in her eyes. No way was she ever forgiving Lori for taking the lead.

“Right.” Seven, but Francesca already knew that. It didn’t matter. It was almost showtime, and Lori’s own skates surely wouldn’t resurface any time soon. Her rival opened the locker and pulled out a shiny new pair. As in … never worn. It took weeks to break in new skates. That combined with the smaller size would just about destroy her feet. She glanced at Francesca, whose smile hadn’t budged, but there was no mistaking the hatred.

I won’t give her the satisfaction.
“Thank you.”

Without waiting for a response, Lori sat on the bench and laced up, making an extra effort not to wince as she pushed her feet into the tight, stiff boots. The pain was immediate, and it would only get worse. But it wasn’t the first time she’d had to perform like this, and judging by her awesome cast mates, it wouldn’t be the last.

The main lights went down in the arena and strobes flashed as they skated onto the ice. As much as it hurt, the aches only pushed her to work harder, perform better, show them all she deserved the lead. It wasn’t handed to her just because of her name. The music blared as they began the opening number, and she skated alongside Bradley, touching him only when she had to. She kept her Disney Princess smile in place even though a scream was waiting in her throat.