Page 93 of Breaking the Ice

And that was it. Right there.He didn’t want it.Not because he’d lost his nerve or because he was afraid to give his knee its first real-time test. But because of Sam.

Because he loved her.

All he could think about, standing here, knowing that all he needed to do was put his blade on the ice and he could have another three or four pro years, was Samantha.

How could he have been so blind?So stupid. How could he have fallen in love and not known it when it seemed so obvious now? It had been that day at Birdie’s grave when she’d wept forhis grandmother like she’d been her own. He knew it as clearly as he knew he needed to have a conversation with the coach and his agent about retiring immediately because he’d already wasted far too much time not being with the woman he loved.

A sudden fierce longing to see her belly swollen with his child almost cut him off at the knees and stole his breath. Finally, he understood what she’d been talking about for months. What her eggs had been cheeping about. Loving someone meant wanting to see their eyes, their expressions, their laughter in the face of your child.

Unless of course she’d changed her mind. She hadn’t mentioned the whole baby thing those last few weeks after all. Maybe he’d fly home and she’d have changed her mind about him, too? Look at him and say,Oh Nick, really, why would I need you when I have Birdie’s and the Orgmaster 2000?

Suddenly he understood whatrealrisk was. And he was an NHL line defensive. But that was a different kind of risk, one he was trained to calculate and knew how to push. Putting his heart on the line was a whole other kind of risky.

But he knew it was one he had to take.

“Hawkeye, you want a hand-embossed invitation?” his coach bellyached from across the arena. “Get your ass on the ice.”

Nick just smiled and slid his guards back in place.

Two weeks and four days. And Samantha had cried every one of them. She’d known it was going to be hard, but nothing had prepared her for the total and utter wasteland inside her. She cried in the shelves where Nick had touched every book. She cried out the back room where they had gone for it against thewall. She cried in her bathroom where he had rubbed her back while she’d vomited.

On two separate occasions.

And to her utter dismay she even cried in front of the customers. She’d broken down in front of a bewildered Bernie just the other day. The poor man had only dropped in for his mother’s books and ended up patting her awkwardly on the shoulder while trying to judge the distance to the door.

No one was safe from her grief, although all the regulars had pitched in to help distract her from it. She hadtriedto keep her mind off Nick, absorbing herself in the business side of Birdie’s. Quite a few drop-ins lately had been asking about the old pulp fiction detective stories and classic comics and she’d been toying with the idea of expansion. She could combine all the boys’ own stuff and potentially make another viable store.

“I just can’t find it, dear.”

Samantha broke from her reverie and attended to her customer, disappearing into the shelves to find the requested Nora Roberts that she knew she’d put there two days ago. The bell over the door rang but she didn’t pay it any heed.

She vaguely heard the milk frother kick in on the coffee machine and figured it must be Kelly. She’d rung earlier to say she’d met a fabulous girl and needed to chat.

“Be right there, Kel,” she called as she located the book and smiled at her customer.

“No rush, take your time.”

Samantha froze. Thatwas notKelly’s voice! Her eggs, who had been treating her as persona non grata since Nick left, suddenly roared to life.

Nick?

“Excuse me,” she said, passing the Nora over to the grateful woman.

She came out from behind a shelf, and there he was looking all shaggy and unshaven and so very wonderfully Nick-like. Her eggs sobbed with joy as she leaned against the shelf on suddenly wobbly legs.

“Nick?What are you doing back?”

“I’ll have this, and these too,” the Nora customer said, pushing them into Sam’s unprotesting hands.

“Here,” Nick said, beaming at the lady. “Let me.”

Sam wandered over to the couch, her heart thundering, her brain still trying to compute that Nick was back.Why?Oh, God… he hadn’t injured himself again, had he?

Her eyes ranged over his body, searching for visible signs of injury as he charmed the customer but nothing seemed apparent so she forced herself to wait patiently for him to finish. When he finally showed the customer out and flipped the sign to closed, she wanted to run to him, throw herself at him, tear his clothes off and drag him to the ground.

But maybe he was just injured and she didn’t want to get her hopes up.

“Did something happen?” she asked as he approached.

---