Page 15 of Ice Contact

“Yep, no hard work at all. It’s a miracle,” he replies, raising his hands in the air like he’s at church. “Seriously though, it’s like I said the other night at the bar. You can have God-given talent, but it’s up to you what you do with it. I worked hard,reallyhard, and ended up at the top of my game at the right time. I was drafted right out of high school, went to college for development, and then finally got the call up to the big show.”

“So, all that talk about talent and hard work the other night wasn’t just about me. You’ve done the same thing?”

He smiles and nods, his leg resting fully against mine.

“I can only imagine the amount of hard work required to be a professional athlete. I do a thirty-minute workout on my spin bike and want to die. I can’t imagine skating up and down the ice as fast as you do. I would pass out after one trip across the rink.”

Hayes' laughter fills the air, gently shaking the swing beneath us. “It’s a lot of hard work, that’s for sure, but I love it. I love the game. I love the look of the ice right after it’s been resurfaced by the Zamboni. I love the camaraderie with my teammates. It’s indescribable, just a great game. Butyouseem to know a bit about hockey yourself. Did I catch you using the term deke earlier? How do you know so much?”

My cheeks flush, my eyes staring out at the quiet street. “Only from the Mighty Ducks movies. Gordon Bombay and his famous triple-deke,” I say as he laughs. “I mean, it’s onlythegreatest movie of the 90s. I always imagined I’d be Julie ‘the Cat’ Gaffney. Except, I’m a horrible skater. I look like a baby giraffe learning to walk. So, my hockey dreams, along with my dream of being an astronaut when I realized I wasn’t great at science, quickly vanished. If I wasn’t on a little rug when I sang, I’d probably fall flat on my face.”

He laughs, his joy contagious as a smile spreads across my face. “Well, maybe I can help you with the skating since I have alittleexperience with that. Or, at least, help you learn to walk on the ice and not fall.”

“I may take you up on that,” I say with a nervous smile. “But, seriously, I probably do know more than the average person when it comes to hockey. When I was younger, my dad used to take me to games at the local college. He knew the coach, and that’s where I fell in love with the game. And, as a teenager, there was a cute goalie I wanted to see.”

Hayes raises an eyebrow, a smug look morphing his face. “Oh, do tell me about this cute goalie. Have you always had a thing for hockey players?”

“I don’t have athingfor hockey players,” I grumble, crossing my arms over my chest and bumping his arm in the process.

Well, maybe I have a small, teeny-tiny thing foronehockey player.

He waits, lifting his brows in mock intrigue and interest, leaning in closer than I expected.I can smell his shampoo and see how the ends of his hair curl as they’re drying.I sigh, rubbing my hands along my legs as I suck in a fortifying breath.

“I was fifteen, and it was a cute college guy. I honestly only saw his picture in the program since he was wearing a goalie mask during the game, so I can only assume he was cute in real life. But lil’ ol’ fifteen-year-old Olivia didn’t care.” I lapse into a comfortable silence, the memories of that game skating through my mind. “The game was fun. I loved the violence and the fights; they were exhilarating. It’s probably my favorite sport.”

“Probably? It isgoingto be your favorite sport now. Don’t make me put you in the penalty box for liking a sport more than hockey,” Hayes replies playful, nudging me with his elbow and adding a little gruffness to his voice.

“Oh, I didn’t realize there was a penalty for such a thing. Ireallyenjoy college basketball. March Madness can get pret-ty crazy, especially when my bracket is winning at the office. But…” I cheekily tap a finger against my chin, pretending to be deep in thought, “which sport do I like better? They both have a lot of action. Basketball has more scoring, but the hockey scoring is way more intense,andI get to see grown men brawl.” I peek at Hayes out of the corner of my eye, his gaze locked on my lips. “How. To. Choose?”

“Olivia,” he says in a much more serious tone. “Let me walk you to your door.”

“Oh. O-okay,” I say, shocked and a little nervous. My eyes widen and my stomach churns as I stand and move towards the door.Did I say something wrong? I hope he knew I was just joking.Biting my lip, I fight the growing panic in my chest.Oh God, now you’ve done it, Olivia; you’ve pissed him off.“I’m sorry. I was just joking; I didn’t mean to -”

Hayes places his hands on my face and presses his lips to mine. My heart races as his kiss calms all of my worry. My body struggles to stay standing as I melt into his touch. If I’m being honest, I’ve been dreaming about this for weeks. I wrap my arms around him as I open my lips to deepen the kiss, his tongue stroking mine.Damn…his tongue is powerful. I’m not sure if this is a muscle needed for hockey, but he’s got skills. He’s kissing me as if I’m the last person on the earth, and he’s been starved of human contact foryears. He tips my head back to press against me fully, and I let out a small moan, craving the feel of his muscles against the curves of my body.

Dear God, how does this man do these things to me?

As he pulls away, he takes a step back. “I hope that made your favorite sport decision a little easier,” he says with a smirk while I wipe the drool from my face, a little stunned and in disbelief.

“Jury’s still out.”

He laughs a deep belly laugh and smiles back at me, his eyes practically sparkling. “Olivia, thank you for the pleasure of driving you home tonight and allowing me to walk you to your door.”

“No, Hayes, seriously, thankyou. After everything that happened today, this was exactly what I needed.”

“And what is it that you needed?”

I think for a second, a small smile twisting my face. “Perspective.”

15

hayes

Ishould win a fucking award for the amount of willpower I just used not asking Olivia to invite me inside.Or inside her for that matter.I have no clue how I left her with just a kiss on the porch. As I drive home from her place, part of me, a better-than-average-sized part of me begging for attention, thinks I am a giant dumbass. I tuck my cock into the waistband of my slacks, knowing she needs time to process things. I don’t want to be a random hookup after she had a crazy breakup with her boyfriend less than an hour ago. I want her future. I want her smiles, her joy, hereverything. I flex my fingers against my steering wheel, my body begging me to turn around and give her the care and attention she deserves. I know I can’t, but I couldn’t leave without a kiss. She is too special. Too perfect. Too beautiful.I want a lot more than kisses with Olivia Brooks. I’ve never been one to believe in love at first sight, but this girl, this siren, has burrowed deep within me and might make me a changed man.

As I practically stumble into my apartment and climb into bed, I take a quick peek at my phone to see if she did, in fact, add in her number. That sweet little brat put herself in my phone as “Olivia Brooks - ICE” and listed the company name as“Emergency Contact”. My cock twitches, begging for my siren to come and play. Sexy with a snarky attitude isexactlymy type.Olivia hasnoidea what she’s in for when number twenty-two skates down the ice looking to score in the five-hole.

“Time to text my emergency contact.”

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