Icing the Puck (New York Empires Book 2) (28 page)

Second Intermission

Max

He headed into the locker room, following the rest of his teammates in preparation for the intermission.

“Five minutes, boys,” their captain shouted. “Then we go and listen to the orchestra. Make my sister blush!”

“St. Laurent!” yelled the equipment manager. “St. Laurent! We need to borrow your extra sweater. We got a request.”

He blinked. “Erm…”

“C’mon,” Evans said. “It’s probably a kid from Make a Wish or Special Olympics.”

“I…I have never…” he managed, confused at being asked for his jersey when so many other players were in the game. “Of course…erm…
absolutement
…”

“This ain’t no kid,” the equipment manager muttered. “It’s a chick from the orchestra.”

There was no air in the room, and Emerson’s face was suddenly inches away. “You hurt her,” his captain said, “you die. And no, I’m not exaggerating.”

“
Ouais, mon chef
,” he replied as earnestly as he could. Then he turned to the equipment manager. “Where are you supposed to deliver the jersey?”

The equipment manager rolled his eyes. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Kayleigh

Her heart pounded against her chest, almost through it. She took a breath, forcing herself to calm down. “You have three minutes, Kayleigh,” Arun informed her as he began to prepare himself to head outside. “Make them count.

She wondered what the conductor was talking about before lifting up her head. And there he was.

“Special delivery…”

She didn’t pause, didn’t breathe, just ran up and kissed him. Hard. Like the world was going to end. And she let all of her thoughts, her feelings out there in the open. She gave herself in that kiss. Fully and completely.

He pulled back, stared at her, almost unruffled. His cheeks were red, his hair was in place, and yet his eyes were clear. “Are you sure? I don’t want…to do this if you’re not sure.”

“I’m sure,” she said. “Completely sure. I realized I needed you in my life, Max. Badly. I don’t want to play any games. I don’t want to have any more long nights by myself when the one thing that would make it better would be a conversation with you. I love you.”

He kissed her then, soft, before pulling back and reaching under his jersey. She followed his fingers toward the thick material of the extra jersey he was there to bring her. She turned around, and lifted her arms up, letting him fit the material over her head. It fit perfectly over the layers of clothing she’d worn to play here, outside.

“
Je t’aime
,” he whispered. “
Je t’aime
.”

Fortified, she let his words envelop her, and headed toward her conductor. She was ready to play for the world, and, for him.

We would like to thank Isabo and Stacey for asking us to be a part of this anthology.

Also our very long suffering children who have let us disappear for hours on end while we’ve tweeted, texted, Skyped, and talked on the phone throughout the writing process of
Change It Up.

A huge shout out to our husbands, who have taken a backseat to our hero, Reiner. The best parts of him are the best parts of you.

“How are my boys doing? Empires sound off!”

A chorus of groans reached his ears, and Reiner Jahr looked around his living room, trying not to laugh at the general disarray of his teammates. Well, most of his teammates. The new kid, Max, hadn’t done more than nurse a beer, and the Russians were still standing. Barely.

Stifling a chuckle, he thought,
This is what happened when you challenged a Russian to a vodka drinking challenge. There was no way in hell he was going to lose.

The only problem, they all had to be at an event in a couple of hours.

Coach was going to be pissed.

Not that it wasn’t the first time they’d all tied one on like this. However, it wasn’t usually a few hours before they were supposed to be somewhere as a team. Today, they were meeting with a youth team from the local Special Olympics as part of the Winter Classic they were playing in.

Reiner didn’t know about his teammates, but he was in no mood to get his butt reamed by Coach. Again. His ass still hurt from the last one.

But even though he had drunk just as much as the as everyone else he seemed to be recovering faster. Not bothering to wonder at his good fortune, he instead worried about getting his teammates back on their feet.

“Karpov! Get your ass in gear! And Emerson, you aren’t captain for nothing. Pick up Sandberg and help me get him sober.” Emerson hadn’t spent the whole night with the team since he had the woman he loved waiting for him at home. But he’d been there for part of the drinking contest and then come back by this morning to make sure no one had died of alcohol poisoning, claiming you never knew what was going to happen with this group. Reiner was sure he was supposed to be offended, but as it was true, he’d shrugged and let Emerson in.

With a bit of a chuckle in his tone, he hollered at Brody Evans, “Oh, and Evans? By the way, you drunk dialed your girlfriend last night. Again.” The snickers and groans that met his ear were followed swiftly with a “Shit,” from Brody.

Ignoring calls for him to make coffee, and other comments telling him where to stick the coffee, Reiner hollered, “I’m not your mother, get your ass in gear!”

His accent was slight; after so many years in the States it only really came out when he was drinking or picking up women. American women had a thing for men with accents and he wasn’t ashamed to admit he’d taken advantage of it more than once over the years.

“Fuck off.”

The guys groaned and flipped him the bird, but Reiner started the coffee machine and began pulling mugs from the cupboards. Rolling his eyes, he figured he might as well be their mother, since no one else could pull it together enough to even curse at him. Mentally shrugging, Reiner figured that since a drunk team reflected poorly on them all, and he definitely didn’t want to look bad this afternoon, he was really helping them for selfish reasons. Adding a little whistle to his coffee-making duty helped, too, especially once everyone started groaning for him to
shut it
and to
tone it the fuck down
.

Once he’d annoyed the guys enough with his whistling, he called, more loudly than necessary, “Coffee’s ready! Come and get it, or I’m dumping your asses in the showers!”

“Can I help?” a soft-spoken voice with a heavy accent asked. Reiner knew it was the new kid, Max. French-Canadian, he thought Coach MacArthur had said. Reiner didn’t care, as long as the kid could handle a puck. From what Reiner had seen, Max’s stick-handling skills were top notch. They’d figure out if they held up once the pressure was on.

“You wanna help? Get Evans to quit texting his girl.”

With a muttered, “
Merde
,” Max went up to one of the biggest guys on the team to try to pry his phone out of his fingers.

This wouldn’t end well for the kid.

Reiner chuckled to himself. A bit of hazing the new guy and a fresh pot of coffee went a long way to improving his mood.

Surprisingly, he saw Max whistling as Brody Evans, six foot seven inches of solid muscle, looked mystified. Sure enough, Max handed Reiner the phone. But Evans noticed at the same time, and came charging at him. Oh great, he thought as Brody charged him. He grabbed one of the cups of coffee and held it up in front of him. Normally he’d welcome and be prepared for his hit, but he had zero desire to wrestle with Brody in his kitchen.

It took almost an hour before anyone was in any kind of shape to leave his place. For some reason, his apartment had become the unofficial hang-out for the team. The first time all the single guys on the team had crashed at his place after a home game, he’d been surprised.

He wasn’t typically the guy people gravitated to, preferring to spend his time with a few select friends. He knew it was how he’d grown up. Life in a small village in Norway, with a population of maybe five hundred people, wasn’t conducive to furthering his social butterfly status. Instead, he’d played hockey. When they had enough guys for a team, great, if not, he played alone, or with his dad. Hockey was his life.

When it had become obvious he was what some called a hockey prodigy, his parents had moved to a big city, where he could play teams more his level, a more aggressive hockey.

It had taken him years, and there were times he still struggled with large crowds, and groups of people, but for now, he loved it when they all crashed at his place. It reminded him of those times when he was just a kid playing hockey. Because, really, wasn’t he just a big kid playing hockey now? He had the best job in the world. He played for a living. And he made a good living.

The New York Empires were in line for the Stanley Cup, and he was going to make sure they won it. However, challenging teammates to a drinking contest the night before a major event hadn’t been the smartest thing his teammates had ever done. Now they were all dragging ass. It was a good thing they had a couple of hours before they had to be on the ice. He just hoped that they didn’t embarrass themselves out there.

By the time he arrived at the rink, Reiner was ready to play some hockey. The fact he was going to be playing with kids didn’t detract from the adrenaline pumping through his veins at the thought of lacing on his skates and suiting up. Just being on the ice gave him that boost. Didn’t matter if he was playing with kids, in a house league, or with his teammates. Reiner never felt more alive than he did when he was on the ice.

For today, however they weren’t wearing their Empires uniforms. They’d be wearing their jerseys and black pants. The improvised uniforms reminded him of the ones he wore when he played roller hockey, but these prevented the cold from seeping in. Not that he felt the cold. He could skate in his jersey and jock strap, and he had once, because you don’t back down from a double dog dare! But today wasn’t about him. This game wasn’t even about the Empires. Today it was all about the kids.

Walking into the locker room, he smiled at the trash talking that was happening among his teammates. It didn’t matter the language, and there were many in the NHL, the trash talking always sounded the same. There were even enough Norse players that if he ever wanted to speak his native tongue he could usually find someone.

“Jahr, in here now!” Coach barked at him.

He dropped his bag on the bench and followed his coach into the room he’d commandeered for the game. Sandberg and Karpov were already waiting.

Shit. This wasn’t good. It wasn’t as horrible as if Emmerson had been there, but it still wasn’t good. He chanced a look back at his teammates and didn’t see any signs of the drinking party that had happened the night before on them.

“What’s up, Coach?” Karpov asked.

Coach handed each of them a piece of paper. Reiner looked at his, and saw a picture of a little boy, sitting in a wheelchair, clutching a hockey stick, and wearing his jersey. Underneath the picture was information about the child. He read his quickly. Karpov and Sandberg tilted their papers, and he saw similar images and info on theirs as well.

So they weren’t in trouble. It was about the kids.

“As you know today’s game is for the kids in the Special Olympics. These three love hockey, and you three are their favorite players. Your sole job today is to be the skates for the child on your paper.”

Reiner could do that. Hell, he looked forward to it.

With a brisk nod, coach dismissed them, and they joined their teammates back in the locker room. Reiner toed off his shoes and slid his feet into his skates. Lacing them up, he let his mind wander to information on the paper about his fan, Kenny.

From the grin and twinkle in the kid’s eye in the photo, the next couple of hours were going to be a lot of fun.

Emma Chase looked around the room, satisfied at how the night was going. She’d pulled it off. With a deep breath, she finally allowed herself to relax. Swiping a glass of champagne from a passing server, she sipped the bubbly liquid and began to mingle. The game that morning with the kids and the Empires had been a huge success, and now many of the hockey players were filing in. She knew most were uncomfortable in the tuxedos, but man, did they look good. Her ogling was interrupted by a colleague tapping her on the shoulder.

“Emma? I have someone I want to introduce you to.”

Her friend Ruby Langley was gripping the arm of super-sexy hockey god Reiner Jahr.
Damn it, Astrid
, she swore in her mind. She knew exactly what Reiner did to Emma, and why she needed her here to be a buffer between them and let Emma embarrass herself in front of a lot of important people. The first time she’d met him, she’d been an exchange student to Norway, living in his bedroom. She’d stumbled out of it, her hair sticking up every which way, thick black eyeliner smudged on her face from the night before, and wearing holey pajama pants and T-shirt way too big for her frame. She’d yelped and ran back to her…his room.

Whenever he’d come home she’d managed to make an idiot herself, made all the more awkward due to the giant teenage crush she’d had on him.

From the moment the Empires had agreed to be a part of her event she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him and the fact they’d be working together. OK, not
together
together, but in close contact. She’d wanted to say something to him earlier at the rink, thank him for being Kenny’s legs. By the time she’d finished getting the kids returned to their parents and the myriad of other things she’d needed to do, he’d already left the arena. As much as she’d love to visit the locker room, she wasn’t quite ready to barge in on all the guys.

She never missed a chance to see him play hockey. She held season tickets to the Empires, not that he knew. But that was fine with her. He was beautiful to watch. No other player looked so smooth, like he’d been born on the ice, or even
of
the ice. He was like a Viking god. She chuckled to herself. What, he was the god of hockey? The thought nearly had her snorting out loud. Although it was easy to picture. The man was magic on the ice.