Page 13 of Ice Contact

Heat floods my cheeks, and it feels unbearably hot in this car. “You think so?” I whisper, twining my fingers together in my lap.“I was a little distracted when I saw you skate out on the ice, if I’m being honest, and all the puzzle pieces started clicking into place that you were the same Hayes from Walt’s. So, I wasn’t sure if it was one of my best performances.”

“Olivia,” he says in a deep, serious tone, turning his head long enough to make me lift mine and stare back. “Do you remember me saying I don’t give out compliments I don’t mean? Please believe me when I say you are amazing.”

Where did this guy come from?Cayden never once told me my singing was beautiful.He never actually told me I was beautiful either.It was always ‘you look nice’ or ‘I like that outfit.’ And now, here I am, getting a ride from a pro hockey player who thinks my singing is beautiful.

“Plus, that anthem literally gave me chills. It got me and the whole team pumped up for the game. You’re definitely the reason why we won,” he says with a smile, taking a quick glance at me.

“Oh, stop it; that’s not true,” I scoff, trying to give him another smack on the arm. But as I do, he takes his hand off the steering wheel and grabs mine before I can playfully punch him. And then he just…holds my hand. I swallow hard as heat creeps into my cheeks. I try and hide my smile, but it’s no use. He rubs his thumb along my knuckles and gently sets our clasped hands on my thigh as he continues to drive towards my place.

Then I realize two things at once:

Cayden broke up with me. He is no longer my boyfriend, and I’m single for the first time in eighteen months.

Hayes Larson is holding my hand. On. My. Thigh. And he’s not letting go.

13

hayes

Olivia’s hand is silky smooth and absolutely tiny in my massive hockey mitts, her fingers fitting in mine like a missing puzzle piece. I’m not exactly sure what all went down with her and Douche-A-Roni before I showed up, but I want to show her there are other options out there besides dickwads and assholes. And with the help of my fantastic athletic reflexes and peripheral vision, I grab her hand before she hit me in the arm again. I’m getting major brat vibes from my little siren, and I am fucking here for it. Now I’m driving with her perfect hand in mine, and the best part is - she’s not pulling away.

“FUCK!” I yell as some dumbass in the right lane does an illegal turn across my lane, making us almost t-bone his truck. I drop Olivia’s hand, my reactive hockey instincts kicking in, and I swerve to miss running head on into the back side of this guy’s souped-up pickup truck. I lay on the horn, letting this idiot know he almost caused a major accident, and pull off to the side of the road, trying to calm myself down and get my bearings straight.

“Fuck! What the hell was that guy thinking? Shit, Olivia, are you okay?” I turn towards Olivia, my heart breaking as I see her white knuckle gripping the side of the door, her face pale asher breaths come in sharp pants. “I’m so sorry for that. I can’t believe that guy whipped around out of the blue like that.”

She takes a deep breath, slowly prying her fingers off the door. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just startled. Thank God we didn’t hit that guy. The last thing you need is to get in a car accident with the season just starting.”

“You don’t need to get into an accident either. A broken arm seems like it would be extremely unhelpful for playing piano. Then I would have to play for you, and no one wants to hear that.” I see a smile as I look over to make sure she’s safe, settling the pounding panic in my own heart. “You sure you’re okay?” I ask her one more time, cautiously reaching over to place a hand on her shoulder.

“Yes. I promise. Just shaken up,” she says, placing her hand on top of mine. “But thanks; I’m okay. God, it’s been quite the night. I don’t know how things could get any worse. I’m really sorry.”

“What in the world do you have to be sorry for?” I ask, worry and confusion thrumming through me.

“If you wouldn’t have been driving me home, or if I hadn’t been joking around and trying to smack your arm, you could have seen the guy sooner,” she says, hanging her head down and biting her lip.

“Olivia. Look at me,” I say as I grip her chin, tilting her face towards mine. “This wasnotyour fault. You didn’t distract me. Nothing could’ve prevented this besides that fucking idiot knowing where he was going. I could have just as easily gotten in a close call on the way back to my apartment,” I reassure her as I move my thumb from her jaw line to brush the bottom of her lip. “This is not your fault, okay?”

“Okay.” She looks at me with a half-smile, almost like she doesn’t believe me.I swear I will find a way to undo these bruised pieces of her confidence.

“Okay then. You’re good. I’m good.” I search her eyes, desperate to see her relax and believe me. She doesn’t. Not fully. “The only guy at fault is that asshole in the other car. God, my heart is still racing.”

My heart is racing from the adrenaline of almost getting in an accident, but it’s also racing from the touch of the gorgeous passenger in my car with beautiful, soft lips I’ve been dreaming of kissing for the past three weeks. She leans into my palm more, closing her eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath. I can see the tension start to bleed from her, and my muscles relax a little more, my eyes locked on her delicate mouth. I sigh, breathing her in. She’s had a rough night, and she just ended things with a giant douche, so, for now, I’ll give her some space.I can behave if I need to.

“Let’s get you home.”

She smiles as I reluctantly pull away and hit my blinker to merge back onto the road. My hands are cold and empty without her touch, only the soft sound of the ballad on the radio heavy between us. I can sense her stress and heartbreak, andfuckI just want to hold her and not let go until I know she’s okay. If only I knew what she’s thinking in that gorgeous head of hers.Is she truly upset about her breakup?I grip the steering wheel tight, still shaky, and frustrated I’m not a mind reader.

“Hayes?” she asks, breaking the silence between us. “I actually haven’t had a chance to tell you something yet either.” My heart rockets in my chest, my eyes almost incapable of staying on the road, too anxious to see what she’s going to say. “You werefantasticon the ice tonight. Two goals and an assist at your first Riders home opener? That’s unheard of. You played a phenomenal game tonight. That fast break you got at the end of the first, when you deked and faked the goalie out to score the first goal, was unreal!”

I can’t help the dumb-ass grin on my face as she compliments my game. Olivia was watching me play.And it sounds like she was actually paying attention. I risk studying her in the low light of the car, completely enraptured by the siren sitting next to me.Did she just use actual hockey terms?I never thought the word ‘deke’ would do it for me, but suddenly my dick is awfully tight in my pants, and I subtly shift to give myself some relief. Most girls just say things like ‘when you hit the puck with your stick, that was awesome.’ This girl knows what a deke is.

Could this girl possibly get any hotter?

“Thanks; I actually felt really good tonight. It’s nice to be in a new city with a solid start to the season. I’m starting to gel with my teammates, finding my place on the first line. I think I’m going to be happy here in Milwaukee.”

“Well, if you ask me, Milwaukee is lucky to have you here, Larsy,” she says with a wink.

“You think so?”

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