Icing the Puck (New York Empires Book 2) (16 page)

“Or really,” Kayleigh interjected shaking her head at everybody, “What am I going to do?”

After stealing the cherry from Jonathan’s bowl of ice cream, Arun cleared his throat. “So all the winter fairs are going to have evening concerts attached to them. The music’s going to be a bunch of different things…haven’t figured the total specifics out yet. But closest I can think of is a fusion, a traditional-modern hybrid.”

Kayleigh nodded. “So who’s going to play?”

“Aside from you?”

The ensemble that’s going to play the fairs, and the Classic itself, is going to be a combination of the plugged ensemble, which is more classical fusion, and the main ensemble for filler.”

“By Classic you mean…”

“National Anthems, walk in music for both teams, then back up the groups that are playing during the intermission.”

All three Emerson siblings nodded.

“Sounds like you’re going to be a busy beaver,” Bryce said, breaking the silence.

Kayleigh shook her head. “If I can survive it.

Manhattan

Event: Skating with the Empires at Bryant Park

Kayleigh

Kayleigh hadn’t realized the time until the antique miniature grandfather clock on the wall in her living room started to chime. She cursed, angry she’d promised her hockey-playing brother that she would attend this crazy weekday event, then carefully put her violin in its case on the dining room table and raced into her bedroom. Skillfully avoiding the piles of books and clothing on the floor, she skidded to a stop in front of her closet door, threw it open, and began to rummage through the mess.

“Please,” she whispered, “please let me find this.” Two seconds later, her battered and bruised skate bag was in her hands. She let out a huge sigh.

After the skate bag was in her possession, finding her purse, jacket, shoes, and a fresh ponytail holder was easy. Even finding a taxi going the right way down 5th Avenue was a piece of cake. She had promised her brothers that she’d attend the Skating with the Empires event at Bryant Park, and it was a good thing she wasn’t going to be late. Especially considering, first, her brothers would kill her if she was late, and second, she had to leave early to prepare for the evening’s concert.

Unfortunately, the odds she was going to strangle someone were getting exponentially larger as the taxi approached the public park and the large crowd forming in front of it. “Dear god,” she muttered.

“I have never seen it this bad,” the taxi driver replied, shaking his head. “I can drop you here?”

“Here” referred to a spot in front of the mid-Manhattan library. The sidewalks in front of the smaller library were practically empty. “I’ll take it,” she said. Grateful, she swiped her card, gave the cab driver a huge tip for his trouble, and got out to examine her surroundings. There was still a teeming mass of people.

She was screwed.

She crossed the street as soon as it was possible, ignored the craziness of 5th Avenue and headed toward an entrance of the park.

“Trying to get in?” asked a man.

She nodded, fishing through her purse for the ID and letter she thought she’d put inside. Finally, triumphant and relieved all at the same time, she stuck the letter in her coat pocket and looked up. Dancing bright blue eyes met hers. “Yeah,” she said as her heart pounded against her chest. She knew him from somewhere but couldn’t place him. “Wait.”

He paused, waited, and then smiled.

“You’re Max. From the poutine shop?”

He nodded. “
Ouais
. And you’re Kayleigh?”

“Yeah. That’s me,” she replied.

“Heading to the…
patinoire
?”

She loved the sound of his voice and his accent. “Yep. Heading to the rink. Trying to deal with this.” She gestured to the crowd. “It’s going to be interesting.” She shook her head at the slight smile on his face, then wondered if he’d understood her. “As I said, this whole day is going to be interesting.”

Max nodded. “They were trying to tell me there’s a separate entrance, but I…” He waved his hands, brandishing long calloused fingers in the air, as if he were expecting to grab words out of the ether. “Their accents. So…” He shrugged. But it was the sort of elegant shrug-made-art Parisians were gifted with at birth. Not what she’d expected to see from someone who spoke English like he’d come from a small town in Quebec. But she nodded all the same, and realized if his English was as horrible as it seemed, he was going to have trouble understanding most people who carried the native accents of any of the five boroughs.

“Yeah.” She put her hand in her pocket and pulled out the letter. “It says something about the back end…by the carousel and the shops?” She shrugged her shoulders. “Makes no sense to me.”

“Can I?”

He’d shoved his fingers into his gloves, but the movements of his hands were still graceful under the bulk.

“Of course.” She passed him the paper, touched his gloves with hers, and waited.

Then he smiled, and she thought her heart would stop. “Do you want to…try and find the…way in?”

“Yes.” Despite the cold, she felt warm.

Max

Max walked down the street with Kayleigh until it felt like he was skiing uphill. Too many people, too many directions. “Wait,” he managed, not caring what language he’d spoken in but hoping she’d understand him.

She nodded, thank god, and stopped just off the sidewalk. He caught up to her, making his way through the crowd to arrive alongside her.

“You OK?” she asked.

He nodded. “
Trop
…so many people,” he said, forcing himself to at least speak some English despite the fact he knew she’d understood his French. “I don’t want to be…rude, but, well…” he shrugged. “It’s difficult to…be careful, you know?”

Once again, she nodded.
Tabernac
it felt good not to have to explain. He was used to pushing hard, used to being aggressive, but not in a place where people did not know how to push back. Or push back like they did on the ice.

“You ready?” She asked like he’d needed to take a breath.

He smiled back at her, having composed himself. “May I?” he asked, raising his left hand and placing it at the small of her back. He waited, focusing completely on her. No nerves, anger, or upset. Just…a happy surprise. Like he was a knight or unicorn. But he focused still, waiting for her to
show
something. “I…it’s not,” he began, as if the words would make her speak.

“It’s fine,” she said, her smile burning his heart. “It’s OK, you don’t want to lose me, and you’re too nice, and too strong, to push people.”

He shook his head. “
Non
.” Then paused. “No. Not…in this group of…”

“St. Laurent!”

The English words flew through his mind like autumn leaves, piling off to the side at the sound of his name. “
Ouais
?” Then he remembered the person who’d called him by name probably didn’t speak French. “Yeah?”

The guard’s response was loud and came with a grin. “You want the players entrance. It’s around da corner and…”

He blinked. “Eh…”

“Thanks,” Kayleigh said, as if she hadn’t missed a beat. “I appreciate it.”

“You are?”

She put her hand back into her pocket to take out her invitation. “Here,” she said, giving the paper to the security guard.

The guard looked up, his face confused, the paper still folded in his hands. “Can read dis”

“Family member,” she said, probably clarifying the words on the messy paper. “One of two. Not his though,” she said, laughing.

The security guard nodded and gave her back the paper, which she put back in her bag, then directed them toward the exit, nodding at them both. “Thank you,” he managed as he let her lead him out.

The guard waved in understanding. “Yer welcome.”

As they walked away from the entrance, he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Saved me.”

She grinned back at him before she took his hand and let him lead her past the carousel and the shops, toward the entrance security had suggested. “Saved you, huh?”

He nodded as they turned the corner. “
Ouais. Vraiment
. You saved me from, eh…death by accent.”

She laughed louder. “That’s hilarious,” she said, her voice lost through her laughter. “Death by accent. Unbelievable.”

He grinned back at her. “You did, you know, hear the evidence.”

“Oh, dear lord,” she said, her laughter holding her words back. “Oh, my gosh, yes. You were so right.”

But even more right, was the way she felt in his arms. And he could tell,
percée
or no, she felt the same way.

Kayleigh

Max made Kayleigh feel comfortable, which was something she’d learned to treasure. Her high-maintenance ex had made her feel as if she had to change who she was to make him understand her, and she’d had enough of that, whether with friends or a boyfriend.

Unfortunately, talking to him for about five minutes confirmed that his English was atrocious, even though he had an adorable accent.

Now, as they approached the player’s entrance, she wished they’d had more time. “This way,” she said, trying not to let the disappointment show in her voice.

And then out of nowhere, she felt his hand on her back again, then his arm around her shoulders. She relaxed into his touch. It wasn’t just comfortable, it was practical. Yes. Practical. There were too many people milling around the Bryant Park shops to just walk together without some kind of connection. It was just…smart.

“This is nice,” she said. “I’m glad I saved you.”

“I was lucky,” he replied. “Very lucky. Maybe…”

He’d let the phrase drop, and she wasn’t happy about it. But she understood; she was his teammate’s sister. Not to mention, her hockey player brother was, to put it mildly, an ass.

“Maybe next time I could save you?”

She didn’t answer, mostly because they’d arrived at the player’s entrance.

“St. Laurent’s fine, and you.” The guard looked at her. “Letter?”

She pulled the paper out of her pocket, and handed it over. “Here you are, sir.”

The guard took it in his hand, and she watched as he inspected it, the expression on his face getting more puzzled as the minutes passed. “Goddamn it. I can barely see what’s on this. This fuckin’ looks like you pulled it out of your ass. Who the fuck are you? ID please.”

She grinned at Max, who was looking confused himself as they stood there. “Kayleigh Emerson,” she replied as she reached into her skate bag to grab her wallet. “I’m Chris Emerson’s sister.” She passed her ID over to the guard and held her breath.

“Fuckin’ A right she’s Emo’s baby sister,” said a second guard as he came over to join his colleague. “My old lady? She’s obsessed with classical ; tickets to the Philharmonia for Christmas, and she’s a happy woman . Anyway…this girl? My old lady’s favorite. She’s like a muse come to Manhattan.” The second guard then smiled at her and rolled his eyes. “Sonofabitch, and you’re Lucky Seven, hm?”

Max, predictably, and adorably, blushed. “Yes…”

“Good. You.” The guard pointed widely at a cordoned off area. “St. Laurent, you go there. And you, Emerson.” He pointed at a door on the opposite end. “Need to go this way. You got people in there, family and stuff.”

Instead of following the guard, much to her surprise, Max paused and smiled at her. “This was nice,” he said, his grin as bright as his eyes.

She grinned back at him; apparently his expression was capable of stealing her words. “See you inside?”

He nodded, then paused. “Save a skate for me, maybe?”

She didn’t answer him because she was dumbstruck. And despite everything else that would be waiting for her, she wondered what it would be like to skate around the rink with him.

Max

It was a horrible idea to have
thoughts
about a teammate’s sister, yet there she was when he closed his eyes. Improper thoughts shoved aside, Max headed into the part of the dressing room area set aside for the players. Like the other locker rooms he had been in on this level, each of his teammates had a locker containing the things they would need for the event. Thank god he found his locker without trouble.

The solid wooden bench in front of the temporary space welcomed his weight. He sat down and closed his eyes, attempting to block out the flutter of emotion from all areas of the room.
Sérénité
, he thought.

Once grounded, he reached for his skates, lacing them up in a way that allowed his ankles to breathe a little bit.

“All right,” the assistant coach for defense shouted. “Eyes here!”

Immediately, he began to clap, following the team protocol; it was how they showed the coach they were ready and listening.

“So,” the head coach began with a grin as he paced back and forth along the length of the locker room. “I see everybody’s made it? Including Mr. St. Laurent, hm?”

He blushed; but there was a genuine smile on the coach’s face.

“In all seriousness, I’m glad we’re all here, because god knows we need days like this.” The coached stopped and gazed at the group. “This, today? A little bit of fun. We’re going to have a good time, we’re going to skate, and we’re going to mingle with everybody. But we’re on a tight game schedule, so don’t overdo it. And please, for the love of anything holy, I beg of you. Don’t do anything
dumb
.”

The coach looked at a few players, and Max saw him focus on Emerson.

“Me?” Emerson said, grinning. “Why would you think I would do something dumb…?”

“Cause you’re the one out of everybody who has the most family here,” the coach replied. “This is one of the earliest events surrounding the Classic, and you have two family members already in attendance.”

Emerson laughed. “My two siblings live in the New York area. Oh!” He smiled at the coach. “Before I forget, I want everybody to pay attention.”

Max could feel the sudden intensity focused on the man who wore the ‘c’; it mirrored his own.