Page 24 of Ice Contact

I roll my eyes, “He’s going to be here soon, and I need to finish getting readywithoutthinking about starring in my own romance novel. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The thought of doinganythingwith Hayes from one of my books sends my stomach into a whirl of nervous excitement.

“Bye Olivia! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” she teases as I end the call and roll my eyes with a smile.

Will we be doing sordid things?This is just a friendly tour of the city. It’s going to be fine. Tame.Right?Simply riding around in a car with an unbelievably handsome man who I’m a little desperate to kiss again.

What sordid things could possibly happen in the middle of the day?

Hayes pulls up to my house a few minutes early.Damn, I like a punctual man.I grab my bag and head out the door. He is, of course, outside and opening the car door for me. It’s not that a girl can’t open her own car door, but it’s a nice gesture.He Who Must Not Be Named wouldneveropen a car door for me. Or any door, for that matter. And dammit, I could use some nice gestures.My pulse races through my body at his touch on the small of my back as he guides me into the car.Why is the small of my back suddenly the most erogenous part of my body?He’s wearing black, slim-fit joggers and a cream-colored, long-sleeved hooded shirt that is casual but looks expensive.His shirt costs more than my entire outfit.Probably more than my rent. Sliding into my seat, I can’t help but swoon as his cologne hovers around me. He is just as sexy now as he was in his tailored suit.

“Sorry to hear about the loss last night. I would have been there, but since I wasn’t singing the anthem, I picked up the happy hour gig at Walt’s.”

He shrugs, and he drums his fingers along the steering wheel. “It is what it is. Losing comes with the territory, and we worked out the kinks at practice this morning. All I can do is shake it off and focus on the next game.”

I twist my fingers in my lap.Should I have brought that up before our date?

Taking a deep breath, he asks, “Alright, tour guide, where to first?”

“Are you hungry?” I buckle my seat belt, needing to do something to help settle my nerves.

“I’m always starving after practice, but I do need to eat healthy-ish since I’m in season, if that’s okay,” he says a little sheepishly.

“I mean, you do have to keep up your girlish figure,” I say with more sass than needed, and he laughs. “I figured you’d need something better than a corner hotdog, though those are amazing here, so I made us a reservation at The Harbor. It’s a seafood place right on the water downtown with lots of grilled fish and vegetables. It’s good food and amazing views, so I figured it would be a perfect place for lunch.”

“I love it already,” he says as he puts the restaurant address into his phone.

We enjoy a lovely lunch at the restaurant, seated at a window table with a stunning view of the lake, the northern Milwaukee skyline, and the art museum. Hayes and I both ordered the salmon special, and it was to die for, both of us groaning at the first bite.

We talk about everything and nothing, topics normally brought up on a first date. I’m still unsure if thisisa date. I amtechnicallyavailable right now, so I’m definitely not opposed to calling it that.But…is it too soon?We sip on our drinks and talk about our favorite movies, books, and TV shows. He laughs that Muppets Take Manhattan is in my top ten movie list but agrees Elf is a classic regardless of it being a Christmas movie. We also agree to disagree that Die Hard is a Christmas film. I’ll forgivehim, just this once, for being wrong. Hayes and I discovered that we are both avid readers; I like romance and he likes American history. I proceeded to call him a nerd for reading a book about Hamilton before the musical came outandthe fact that he still hasn’t seen the musical.We’re going to have to remedy that.

Time flies by as the server stops at our table to ask how we enjoyed our meal and sets the check down between us. Hayes reaches over to pick it up, and I instinctively say, “No, let me get it.”

Hayes raises his eyebrow. “Seriously? There’s no way we are leaving this restaurant with you spending a dime of your own money.”

“But this place isexpensive.I would never bring you somewhere like this and expect you to pay.” I reach for the bill, but Hayes stops me in my tracks and puts his hand on mine over the little black leather restaurant bill thingy. Goosebumps crawl across my skin at his touch as his intense gaze locks on mine.

“Let me ask you a question, Olivia. Have you ever Googled me?”

Oh God.My eyes widen with panic as my brain scrambles for an answer to his question.

“Have I googled you? Um…maybe? Just a little bit, not a deep dive or anything,” I stammer, knowing I totally googled him. Whowouldn’tgoogle the professional hockey player who gave them a ride home and kissed them on their front porch?

He laughs, his body relaxed despite my confession, and says, “It’s okay; it’s not a test. Did you happen to see the latest contract I signed with Milwaukee?”

“No.” My brows draw together as I bite my lip. I actually, for real, did not see that. I was looking for any skeletons in his closet, but I was not going to admit that. I didn’t find much anyway, except a few pictures of an ex-girlfriend named Chelsea.

“I just signed a three-year, nine-million-dollar contract.”

Holy shit-balls.My mouth drops open, the reality of how different the two of us are truly setting in. Damn, I did not know that.

He continues, glancing down at our hands, “I don’t say that to brag about being able to cover our lunch, but to let you know that when you are with me, you are not paying for anything.” The way this man makes my body quiver with his words is making my nether regions wetter than the lake outside the window.

He takes the black bill envelope and opens it. “This check is for $180.” His eyes meet mine. “Do you think that will even make a dent in my bank account? I want to pay for this meal. And anything else we do today. And anything we do next time. Can we just make that a rule for whenever we hang out? Don’t even offer to pay. I’ve got you taken care of,” he says with a soft smile. “Okay?”

“Okay. I’m sorry, I –” Hayes interrupts me mid-sentence, holding up a finger between us.

“Another rule,” he says gruffly, but with a tinge of worry. “No more saying you’re sorry. Last week, you apologized for things that were not your fault. Not in any way remotely close to being your fault. Stop apologizing for everything. Live your life without fear.”

What the hell alternate universe have I walked in to?Is this guy imaginary? Is he a serial killer? If there was a polar opposite to my douchebag ex-boyfriend, Hayes would be it. He reads me like a book, and he’s already gotten to the chapter about my self-deprecating tendencies.

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