The Definition of Icing: A Dallas Demons Hockey Romance (Dallas Demons Series) (6 page)

With a heavy heart, I drive home. I park in the garage for my apartment building, and when I’m stepping into the elevator, my phone vibrates inside my purse. After I punch my floor button, I put my box down at my feet and fish out my cell. There’s one new notification, from my Connectivity social media account:

Nate Johansson wants to Connect with you. Connect or decline?

Chapter 6

Body Check: Using body contact to separate an opposing player from the puck — Nate

“So you accepted his Connect request
immediately?
” my sister Amanda asks. “Wow, way to make him sweat it out and play cool, Kenley.”

I hold my cell to my ear, listening to Amanda while I retrieve my iPad out of my tote. Then I sink onto the sofa and go to my Connectivity page, where I still can’t believe I’m now
Connected
to Nate. I’m so elated I want to jump up and dance. He wants to be able to contact me. Okay, so yes, probably as a
friend,
but still. Nate sought me out.
Nate!

Since Lexi was out with friends, and wasn’t responding to my text messages, I had to tell
someone
about this, so I called Amanda.

“Why should I have waited? We’re friends,” I say, scrolling through his page.

“Yes. You always call me at ten-thirty at night about Connectivity friend requests you receive,” Amanda says in a knowing voice. “So you definitely think of Nate as more than a
friend.
”

Suddenly I hear screaming in the background. “Mommy! I can’t find Pinkie Pie! Help me find her!”

I smile to myself. That’s my niece, Claire, and she’s obsessed with her
My Little Pony
dolls.

“Of course she wakes up and can’t find the most annoying pony on the planet,” Amanda quips. “That pony talks in scream voice in the cartoon, have you noticed that?”

“
Mommy! I need Pinkie Pie right now!
” Claire bellows.

Amanda sighs. “Message me on Connectivity. I’ll message you back in a bit.”

I laugh. “Good luck finding Scream Voice,” I tease.

“Ha, ha,” Amanda says. Then she hangs up.

I go back to scrolling through Nate’s page. This is obviously his personal account, not his public one, because I see the Connect request option and notice the number of Connects he has is 25. Wait.
25?
That’s it?

Wow. Nate really does limit the people he lets into his world.

And then my heart skips a beat when I realize he wants me to be one of them.

I see he’s posted about moving to Texas, how hot it is—which makes me smile. He must despise the heat here. Pictures of The W Hotel and of the condo in the luxury hotel he’s buying . . . His first picture in a Demons jersey, after he was traded . . .

Suddenly my phone beeps with a text alert.

I pick it up and see it’s Lexi:

Are you serious you had dinner at Harrison Fucking Flynn’s house?

What happened with Nate? Oooh did he Body Check you? HA!

Did Harrison take his shirt off?

I burst out laughing and text back:

Yes.

And Nate and I are cool now. Just friends. NO BODY CHECKING ARE YOU DRUNK?

Harrison kept his shirt on the entire time, sorry.

Then my Connectivity Private Message alert beeps with a note from Amanda:

I found Pinkie Pie. So what’s the deal with Nate? Be honest. I know when you’re lying, little sister.

Next I notice my status flash on my business Connectivity page, which I always set up to prompt me to do a business-related status for the weekend. Hmmm. I should talk about those breakfast truffles and put a recipe up on my blog.

Okay, I should get that done so people will see it Saturday morning, which is a big time for people to surf Connectivity. But first I need to answer Amanda’s question because she will keep messaging me until I do.

Okay, I’ll be honest. Nate is Freaking. Smokin. Hot. And if you could see his badass tattoo sleeve, muscled arms, ripped core, facial stubble and long eyelashes you’d be lusting after him just like I am.

Then I hit ‘Connect Update’ and go back to texting Lexi, who has sent me a million questions about Nate and what’s going on. But while I’m texting, my Connectivity alert goes off again, showing a comment to my update. Wait . . . What? How can someone comment on my conversation with Amanda on my Confection Consultations page?

I click it open and see I didn’t private message Amanda, but rather talked about Nate in my fucking status box for Confection Consultations for the entire world to read! With complete panic, I see there’s a comment with a privacy marker next to it, meaning only I can read it, but it’s from
Nate
:

Flattering status. Thank you.

Oh my God!
I gasp. I know Nate knows exactly how turned on I am by him and his gorgeous body. My stomach rolls over with nausea and I frantically hit the delete button, which isn’t working.
Why isn’t it working? Damn it! Shit!
I continue to click delete in panic and finally a prompt comes up asking if I’m sure I want to eliminate my Connect Status.

“Yes, I’m sure!” I scream at the iPad. “Go away!”

I declare I want my status deleted, and I wait anxiously for it to disappear.

Which it does.

But I can never, ever, delete those words out of Nate’s head.

Nate knows I’m interested.

After I just told him I want to be friends.

And I’m sure he’s deleting my Connectivity relationship with him on his page right now as a result.

I want to cry. I’m mortified. I’ve never been more embarrassed in my entire life. And just when I could have had something with Nate, even if it were simply a friendship, I blew it up with my inability to type in the right box.

Or keep my lust to myself.

I shut off my phone and iPad. I can’t bear to deal with the fallout of my mistake.

I curl up on my sofa.
Well, at least I won’t have to face Nate again,
I think miserably. I can have lunches and girl time with Kylie, and come up with excuses if I’m invited back to the house for dinner. So that will solve everything.

I can avoid Nate.

I’ll never have to see him again.

And he wasn’t interested anyway.

So no harm.

No foul.

No more Nate.

Which hurts my heart in a way it shouldn’t.

But it does.

And somehow I’ll have to come to terms with it.

“I can’t watch you eat anymore chocolate,” Lexi declares. “Get up and get dressed. We’re going out this afternoon.”

“It’s too hot,” I say, unwrapping another Bonieri Cremini square. I’m slumped on the couch, where I’ve been all morning. And now afternoon, as Lexi has pointed out. But I’ve put on the Cooking Channel and have sat in a complete depression, watching food shows and eating chocolate and slurping coffee to celebrate me being the biggest idiot on the face of the earth.

And I’ve purposely shut off my phone and put my iPad away, as I can’t handle seeing if Nate said anything else about that horrific message he saw last night.

“It’s always hot,” Lexi says firmly, interrupting my thoughts. “Hello, you live in
Dallas
. It’s
late August
. Nothing you haven’t lived through for your entire life. So that’s not an excuse.”

“I’m not going,” I say. “I don’t want to.”

Lexi shrugs. “Well, that’s too bad because I’ve already talked to Amanda, and since Ryan is out of town she’s craving adult interaction. So she’s coming down with the kids in a half hour to pick us up.”

I shoot her a look as I hold the chocolate in my hand. “Why? What is she coming down here for?”

Amanda lives in Frisco with her college sweetheart husband, Ryan. Ryan is a producer for Total Access Total Sports, and he travels a lot for his work. But regardless, she’s up in the suburbs, and this is out of her way to come down to the city simply to make me get off the couch.

“We’re all going out for coffee,” Lexi declares. “We love you, and as people who love you, we aren’t going to let you overdose on Italian chocolates because you told Nate Johansson he has a hot body you could practically lick last night.”

My entire face burns in humiliation. I sit straight up and drop the chocolate on the end table next to me. “I didn’t say that!”

Lexi grins. “But you wanted to.”

“Argh! Shut up,” I cry, my face now, without a doubt, blood red.

“I won’t stop unless you get ready. Or maybe I’ll message Nate and say you forgot to add that. ‘Nate, I could lick you like melted chocolate off a spoon . . .’”

I leap off the couch. “Don’t even.”

“Have you even gone online since? To see if Nate said anything else?”

“No. I’m sure he’s unconnected me from his account,” I say miserably.

“You told a guy he was hot,” Lexi says. “Big deal. Nate said he was flattered, didn’t he?”

“Okay, if I get ready and promise to go, will you quit talking about this?” I beg.

Lexi laughs. “Okay.
For now.
”

“You’re so not my best friend,” I say over my shoulder as I head into my room.

“Oh I so am,” Lexi answers in a singsong voice.

Despite my depressed and mortified state, I manage a smile. Lexi has always been my closest friend, my rock, my support system. And even though I don’t want to go out, I know she’s right. I can’t sit on the couch and eat chocolates for the rest of the weekend, no matter how tempting that is.

I open my closet door. Today it’s 101F. I rifle through my clothing and decide a maxi skirt and a tank top are in order. I select a long white maxi skirt with a coral floral print on it and a white ribbed tank top. I change into them and put on a large statement necklace. Next I slip into my sandals and slide a stack of brass bangles on my left wrist.

Then I grab my straw summer tote and dump my wallet, compact, and lipstick into it. I glance at my phone, which is shut off and on my nightstand.

Okay, no sense ruining my accomplishment of getting off the couch by checking to see if Nate has diconnected me from his Connectivity page. That can wait.

Until at least Monday.

I step into my bathroom and grab my texturizing sea-salt spray to add volume to my blond waves. I spray and scrunch, and achieve a decent result. Then I sweep on some tinted moisturizer, a little bronzer, and a soft brownish-pink lipstick. There. This is more than good enough for coffee.

Amanda appears right on time, calling Lexi since my phone is off, and we head downstairs and pile into her SUV.

“I’ll take the backseat,” Lexi says, opening the door. “Hi, Claire. Hi, Bella,” she adds, smiling at eight-month-old Bella in her car seat.

“Yay!” Claire yells excitedly from her booster seat. “I’m going to tell you all about Rainbow Dash, Auntie Lexi. Hi, Auntie Kenley.”

“Hello, Claire,” I say, grinning at her.

And while Lexi knows her Dallas Demons by heart, she doesn’t know anything about
My Little Pony.
And she’s about to be schooled by one passionate little four-year-old.

“Awesome,” Lexi says, grinning at Claire.

I settle into the front passenger seat and put my straw tote on the floorboard. I reach around and buckle my seatbelt.

“Why won’t you answer your phone or Connectivity messages? I had to call Lexi to make sure you were alive this morning,” Amanda says, easing onto the street.

I groan and put my oversized sunglasses on. “I don’t want to even
think
about social media after last night, let alone read it.”

“You’re overreacting,” Amanda declares, tucking a lock of her blond hair behind her ear.

“What? How can you say that?” I demand.

“Like women haven’t told Nate Johansson he’s hot before? Please.”

“I agree,” Lexi pipes up over Claire’s nonstop pony chatter.

“Not like that,” I say, inwardly cringing.

“I bet he’s had women mail him panties,” Amanda says as she makes a right turn.

“What?” I ask.

“Oh, he’s totally had that,” Lexi says. “Puck Sluts do that.”

“Puck Sluts,” Claire repeats.

“No, no, Auntie Lexi said a bad word,” Lexi says quickly. “Don’t say it, Claire. Auntie Lexi was wrong.”

“Puck Sluts, Puck Sluts.” Claire giggles.

“Don’t worry about it, Lexi. She’ll say much worse before kindergarten, I’m sure,” Amanda says easily.

I smile. My sister is so cool. And I love her so much for doing this for me today, despite my protests.

Amanda makes another turn, and now I’m confused.

“Where are we going?” I ask. “Starbucks is right around the corner.”

“We’re trying a new place,” Lexi says. “The Roast and Grind. It’s independent. And I know you prefer to support independent businesses.”

I nod. That’s true. And who knows, maybe I can see if there’s a business opportunity to talk about chocolate needs while I’m there.

The Roast and Grind comes into view, but I notice the coffee shop has a lot of cars in the drive-through and tons of signs and people out front. I peer at the signs as Amanda gets in the long line for the drive-through.

Oh my God.

As soon as I see one of the signs, my stomach drops out. My throat goes dry. Complete panic sets in. I read the sign over and over to make sure I’m not going crazy:

The Roast and Grind

Invites you to

Win a DATE WITH NATE!

And:

Dallas Demon Nate Johansson

Serves up coffee

And a chance for a DATE WITH NATE

For charity today

And Nate’s smiling face is on every poster in the parking lot.

“What is this?” I shriek. “You two . . . you
knew
Nate was here!”