Page 33 of Icing the Enemy

I ignore him, as I finish covering my blades and walk out. I take a deep breath as I step onto the fresh ice. The coach has us stretch and skate on our own before he starts the drills. It’s intense like he’s trying to weed players out, but he’s just gauging who has put in the work during the offseason. Each command from Coach to skate faster or to snake through the cones keeps me in the moment. Being one with the ice is a sacred place to be. Some men go on spirituality adventures, but for me, this is all I need—ice, a stick, and a puck.

The familiar sound of the team’s blades slicing through the ice echoes through the arena, and this is where I feel at home. Sweat drips down my face as practice ends. Not once did I think of Oakley. It feels good not to be totally consumed with the little thief. I’m going to marry someone who is as beautiful as she is infuriating.

I check my watch, and I have plenty of time to pick her up so after cleaning up, I make a pit stop at the phone store and add her number to my plan.

Once I reach the salon where Oakley works, I park my truck in front. This reminds me of a strip mall in eastern Kentucky, full of nail salons, beauty shops, check cashing, and vape shops.

Immediately, the customers recognize me. One man spins his head from his reflection. “Are you Corbin Shearer? I’m Rodney.”

“I am. Is Oakley here?” I ask the woman trimming his hair.

“Umm, yeah. She just went in the back. We met at the bar not long ago. Well, we weren’t introduced. I’m Jennie Rae.”

That night was messy. I was furious, and Oakley was acting like her stealing my truck was no big deal.

“Nice to meet you.”

Just then, Oakley appears with her hair pulled away from her face but with it hanging long on her back. My breath sticks in my throat, and a coughing spell ensues. In the background, I hear a few people asking for autographs, but my gaze is fixated on the hair stylist. Her lips shimmer a natural color that doesn’t draw too much attention, leaving her eyes as the showcase. She’s simply stunning.

“So, where are you taking me on our date?” Oakley asks just above a whisper.

Jennie Rae shouts, “What? You didn’t tell me you were dating the guy who…”

Oakley shoots Jennie Rae the evil eye, so now I’m curious as to what she was going to say.

“My favorite pizza joint.”

She smiles, and it seems genuine, not sarcastic. “Okay, let me cash out.” Oakley runs through the appointment book, punching in some numbers on a calculator.

While she’s busy, I sign autographs and promise Rodney, who must be a regular customer of the shop, that I’ll take care of Oakley. “She’s been through more than a girl her age should.” He crooks his finger, gesturing for me to get closer, and he whispers in my ear, “She pretends to be a badass, but that girl is the inside of a cinnamon roll. Just keep it in mind and don’t tell her I said that cause she’ll kick my ass.”

After shaking his hand, Oakley looks up and throws her purse over her head, and the long strap rests between her breasts. “Ready?” I ask.

She nods.

“Call me when you get home, Pretty Woman.” Jennie Rae can’t hide her enthusiasm.

She waves to Jennie Rae and the customers. Her face is slightly pink as I open her door and let her in the truck. I still can’t believe I agreed to marry her, but I need to focus on my career instead of whatever the celebrity reporters are saying. I assume we’ll be a hot topic for a couple of weeks, then it will die down, mainly because I had her arrested. I’ll never regret it though because she needed to learn a fucking a lesson. It was rude and illegal.

“Rodney is a huge hockey fan. Hope he didn’t ask for too much,” Oakley says as she twists her head to look at me.

“He was great. I don’t mind signing autographs. I used to be that person that when my parents took me to a Stallions hockey game, I would stay until I had them all sign my shirt or poster. And they weren’t even good when I was young.”

When I slide into the front seat, she says, “A guy like you doesn’t understand what it’s like for people like me and my clients.”

“God, this is going to be a long three months if you insist on being condescending.”

“Me? You’re rich and don’t know what it’s like to struggle. At least you had enough sense to drive the truck instead of a car with an acronym.”

I’ve never been one to overreact. Instead, I always want to work through a problem, stay steady. Her point is valid. I do live in a wealthy area and have nice things. It’s my job to show her who I really am, so we can coexist in a marriage.

Lou’s Pizzeria comes into view so after ten minutes of silence, I point it out. “There it is.”

Oakley’s brows dip toward her nose. “This is your favorite pizza place. Are you serious?”

I turn in the alley where Lou’s wife, Luna, lets me park.

As we enter the brick building of the hole-in-the-wall pizzeria, I’m inundated with the smell of freshly baked pizzacrust and melting cheese. Luna squeezes the life out of me. “We’ve missed you. It’s been weeks.”

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