Page 3 of Cold As Ice

“I think they’re full of shit.” Her eyes flashed to mine, a ripple of pain there. “But I don’t get out much, and my night will go much smoother if they think I managed to score the cute hockey player’s phone number.”

“Is that so?”

She leaned closer still, and I got a whiff of something sweet. Cherries and vanilla, maybe. “You’d be doing me a huge favor.” Her fingers brushed my chest, and the strangest fucking sensation rolled through me.

Oh, who was I kidding?

I was a guy, and she was a hot little thing. I’d have to be dead to be unaffected by her pressed up close against me.

And while my heart might have been buried under a thick layer of ice, my blood still ran hot. With a direct line to my dick, who was more than happy to enjoy this little interaction if the way he twitched behind my jeans was any indication.

“Hand me your cell,” I said, playing along.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Her laughter made something tug sharply inside my chest.

Who the hell was this girl?

Madison handed me her cell phone, and I typed in my number, changing the last digit. Not that she’d ever know it.

“That should get them off your back for a little while.”

“I owe you.” She smiled as I handed it back to her.

“Consider it my good deed of the day.” I gave her a small nod and went back to watching the highlights.

“See you around, hotshot,” she chuckled, and I watched her all the way out the corner of my eye.

She was exactly my type. Petite and slim, with curves in all the right places. But I wasn’t good company, not tonight. And I’d learned a long time ago not to give strangers my cell phone number.

So I tamped down the buzz of intrigue I felt and focused on my beer and the television.

I came here for one reason tonight.

And despite my dick’s aching protests, it wasn’t to get laid.

* * *

“This should cover it,” I said to the bartender, sliding fifty bucks across the bar.

He gave me an appreciative nod. “Great season so far.” My brow rose, and he let out a smooth chuckle. “Recognized you the second you walked in but figured after tonight’s game, you probably didn’t want to be hounded.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime. I hope Morgan’s injury wasn’t as bad as it looked.”

Me too, I wanted to say. But I swallowed the words.

Rapping my knuckles on the counter, I headed toward the restrooms before the walk home. The Saturday night crowd had thinned over the last hour, and I was relieved I’d picked a bar a little further out of town—somewhere, I could fly under the radar.

After taking a quick leak, I washed my hands and headed back into the hall, running straight into—

“You,” I said, taking a step back from Madison.

“You played me.” She narrowed her gaze at me, fisting her hands on her hips. But her attempts at being serious were thwarted by the adorable flush to her cheeks and telling glaze to her eyes.

“Excuse me?” I deadpanned.

“I texted you, and some old man replied. Total creep, by the way.” A shudder ran through her. “You gave me the wrong number.”

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