Page 21 of Ice Contact

Did he just say I looked beautiful?

“Seriously, Hayes, this is incredible. I’m going to wear it when I watch the game tomorrow night.”

“Please take a selfie of that,” he says with a deep voice.Oh my God,the gruff tone of his voice makes my entire body shiver, and I hope he can’t tell how strong of an effect he has on me. “It’s a game-worn jersey from pre-season. I wanted you to have one.”

“So, you sweated in this? Gross,” I joke, trying to play off the fact that this conversation has me extremely turned on. Thankfully he laughs, doing nothing to help my ever-growing arousal. “I’m just teasing; I freaking love it. How’s Denver?”

“Much better now that I’m talking to you,” he says. “It’s been a long day between travel, practice logistics, and dinner. Glad to finally be at the hotel to get some rest. How was your day?”

“Good! Went to Walt’s this afternoon for a drink with my best friend Maggie, then I came home and worked on some music for the rest of the day. Got a new song knocked out I’m excited about,” I gush, recapping my day.

“You wrote a song? Today? An entire song?” he says, seemingly in shock.

I laugh, touched that he seems as excited as I am. “Yep, a whole song.”

“What’s it about?”

Shit. Do I tell him it’s about Cayden being a dipshit? Will he be mad? Will it upset him that I wrote a song about my ex?I really need the number to Taylor Swift’s songwriting hotline so I can ask her these kinds of questions.

“Well…it’s kind of about my recent past relationship with a giant douche. I literally refer to him as a douche in the song,” I nervously tell him. “Is that weird?”

Hayes sits for a minute, a myriad of expressions flashing across his face. “It’s not weird at all; I love that you call him a douche in your song. Can I hear it?”

Oh. Double shit.I don’t play my songs for people one-on-one. It’s awkward. I can sing in front of 50,000 people, no problem, but singing in front of a small group, or even just one person, makes me unbelievably nervous…like, puking nervous.

“You want to hear it? Like, hear me play it for you? Now? Over the phone? Just you and me?” I ramble.

“Olivia, I love hearing you sing. You could sing the words to the Declaration of Independence, and I would probably be a sobbing mess,” he says, making me laugh.

I love the way he makes me laugh.

“Funnily enough, this song starts with ‘four score and seven years ago.’” He laughs again, and if I keep smiling like this, my cheeks are going to ache.

“That’s the Gettysburg Address.”

Damn…he’s right.“Potayto, potahto,” I grumble as Hayes lets out another laugh, his video shaking as he looks at me expectantly.

“Okay, I’ll play it for you. Just know singing for only one person makes me super nervous, and I might vomit,” I relay, my voice shaky.

“Why does it make you nervous?” His brows come together, an adorable tilt softening his face. “I would take you to a skating rink and show you how I shoot a puck into the goal. What’s the difference?”

“When I sing for a small crowd, everyone is staring at me, and they are, like…right there.They don’t stop staring. Theentiretime. Then I finish the song, and they arestillstaring atme, and no one knows what to say or do. It’sso awkwardto pour your emotions out in an intimate setting. There’s a lot less emotion involved with shooting a puck.”

“I beg to differ. I’ll show you how emotional it is to hold my stick and shoot a puck sometime.”Did he just say hold his stick? Jeezus, get your mind out of the gutter.“But seriously, Olivia, there’s no need to be embarrassed or nervous around me. I’m literally you’re biggest fan.”

Why does this man make me feel safe being vulnerable with him? “Well, when you put it like that, I can’t disappoint my fans. Hold on,” I say, walking into the music room and setting my phone at an angle so he can see me sitting at the piano.God am I really doing this?I swallow the giant nervous lump in my throat and begin to caress the keys.

(View the lyrics to Olivia’s song at the end of the book)

“Well…what do you think?” I ask, a sick feeling in my stomach and more nervous than I’ve ever been in my life. “I know it needs some work, and I could maybe tweak some of the lyrics, and …” I groan, covering my face with my hands. “I shouldn’t have played it for you.”

He takes a minute and looks at me over the phone with fierce sincerity. “I have a few thoughts,” he says tentatively. “First, you are so fucking talented. The fact you wrote that song in a day, start to finish, is incredible. It’s going to be stuck in my head our entire trip. Second, it makes me want to go to that douche-nozzle’s house and beat the ever-loving shit out of him forevermaking you feel like that. And third, my dick is so hard right now. Watching you sing while wearing my name across your back unlocked a fantasy I never knew I had.”

Oh. My. Lanta.

I wasnotexpecting that. Any of that. My eyes are about to pop out of my head, and I have no idea how to respond, but his words go straight to my core, igniting a heat low in my stomach and making me shift on my piano bench.

“Really?” I sheepishly reply.

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