Page 4 of On Thin Ice

“Yes, Mom,” I teased.

“You’re the one who’s going to be a mom. An awesome mom. And the first step is letting the dad know, then you can figure out where to go from there. Seriously, you’re one of the most confident people I know, Ally. Everything is going to work out.”

“I hope so,” I mumbled.

“Go eat a cookie or something, get that blood sugar up, then hunt him down.”

“Hunt who down? Who are you talking to?” Jake’s voice carried through the phone.

Shit.

“Just talking to Ally. Aren’t you supposed to be meeting the guys for some cardio or something?” Darcy asked, her voice slightly muted as she pulled the phone away from her mouth.

“Trying to kick me out so I won’t figure out all your secrets?” Jake’s tone was firm, but Darcy just laughed.

Watching their relationship grow always warmed my heart. Big, bad hockey player meets quiet, studious grad student. Add in a bit of fake dating and a happily ever after was guaranteed. I’d known it from the start, and I’d never seen my bestie happier.

“What’s the saying, again? Chicks before dicks,” Darcy said sweetly, and I spit out the sip of water I’d just taken.

Jake burst out laughing. “You did not just say that.”

Darcy chuckled. “Couldn’t resist. Now, go work on those muscles of yours while I share secrets with Ally.”

I heard a low murmur, and then Darcy gasped softly.

“Uh, guys, I can hang up now.” I grinned. They were so damn perfect for each other.

“No, no. He’s leaving.” Darcy’s voice was a little breathless.

“Enjoy Denver, Little Harty,” Jake said through the phone.

There were a few murmurs and a little squeak from Darcy; then, I heard the door shut.

“Okay, I’m back. Sorry, I had to distract him from the whole secrets thing. It’s been brutal not saying anything to him, but I promised, and it’s your story to tell, not mine.”

“And I love you for that. Also, chicks before dicks.” I burst out laughing again. “Didn’t know you had that in you. I could say that I guess Jake’s rubbing off on you, but we already know that. How red is your face?”

“Oh, Shut up. But you’re feeling better right now, aren’t you?”

I sighed. “I was.”

“It’s going to befine. I promise. Now, go to a cafe and get a cookie or something. Clear your mind. It’s going to be fine,” she repeated.

“I hope so. I really do.”

DOM

I bumped up the speed on my treadmill another notch.

“We racing?” Xan asked from the treadmill next to mine.

“I’d smoke you, and you know it,” I fired back.

He chuckled and increased his speed, barely breaking a sweat. This was my first workout with any of my teammates since our last season ended way too quickly. I was amped up to start my second season as a Stampede member, ready to shuck off the sting of not making the playoffs in April.

It was the first time in my NHL career that I hadn’t played in the postseason. Before getting picked up in the expansion draft for the Stampede, I’d spent my entire career as a San Francisco Striker. Hell, we took home the Cup in my final season with them. It still pissed me off that I’d gone from a Cup-winning team to an expansion team with no chance of seeing the playoffs anytime soon. Yeah, Vegas had been an anomaly their first year, and making it that deep with a brand-new team wasn’t expected, but still.

Tapping the button on the treadmill, I upped my speed again, ignoring Xan’s chuckle. So I was competitive; sue me. I was a fucking professional hockey player, and I’d been a hotshot rookie a few years ago—it was in my nature to be the best. Call me cocky; I didn’t care. I’d been called that my entire life, and aside from not being protected in the Stampede draft, it’d served me well.

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