Page 4 of From Ice to Home
Liz huffs. “Oh, don’t worry, we know.”
“Listen Liza,” Mona says, quirking an eyebrow. “You can be all boss babe one day and run the law firm while Hannah here goes on to counsel all kinds of trauma victims off their ledges. But I’ll be sipping cocktails poolside, having gorgeous men wait on me every single day. It’s the life I want, so don’t hate me for living the dream—however shallow it might seem.”
Before either of us could respond, the waiter steps up to the table with a tray balancing three glimmering red cocktails.
“We didn’t order—“
“From the gentleman over there,” the waiter says, settling down the cocktails in front of each of us. Mona looks over her shoulder, straight into a suit wearing grin.
I don’t miss the side glance from Liz.
“I think that’s my cue ladies,” Mona says looking back at us before downing her drink in a single shot. “I’ll have to go thank him for the drink.”
“Come on, Mona—“ I try to stop her from leaving, but she just gives us a giant smile heading over to the bar. “So much for celebrating graduation together.”
“You knew she was going to do this,” Liz says, gazing over her shoulder to where Mona is talking to the guy, who has already ordered her another drink. “She’ll keep talking to him for as long as he’s able to keep that tab open.”
“Liz…”
“I know, I know,” she says. “I shouldn’t say stuff like that, it’s just sometimes she can drive me insane with her incessantneed to go after a guy. It’s like she thinks her looks are the best thing about her, like she’s got nothing else to offer. I don’t get it. She has so much more going for her, you know?”
“She’ll have to come to that realization on her own.” There’s no telling Mona anything. She’s a force of nature, one that doesn’t stop for anything or anyone. Even her closest friends.
“Anyway, happy graduation.” I lift my glass toward her. She clinks her own against it before we both take a sip. “Oh this is absolutely—“
“Disgusting?” Liz grimaces, unable to keep a straight face.
“That’s putting it lightly,” I say with a laugh. “How on earth did she swallow it in one go without it coming back up?” I look over to where Mona is animatedly chatting to her new admirer.
Liz opens her mouth to respond but her expression freezes, eyes widening as she stares at something just past my shoulder. I notice her lips twitch, almost like she’s trying to hold back a grin.
“Um, Hannah?” she murmurs, her voice a mix of amusement and something else. “You’ll never guess who’s here.”
Before I can turn, a warm presence comes up behind me, close enough for me to sense a faint trace of cologne—clean and woodsy. A hand reaches over my shoulder, smoothly lifting the red cocktail away and setting down a glass of bubbly pink champagne in its place.
“I think this will suit you much better,” says a low voice. It sounds somewhat familiar, although I can’t be sure. What I do know is that each word is sending a thrill down my spine.
I spin around in my seat, heart pounding, and come face-to-face with a smile that’s changed only slightly since I last saw it. The face looking down at me is both familiar and so different. A trimmed dark beard now accentuates his strong jawline, adding a ruggedness to his chiseled features thatcatches the warm glow of the fireplace. He’s still as handsome as ever.
Perhaps even more so.
“Lucas…” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.
Somehow he’s even taller, exuding confidence in his crisp dress shirt, rolled up over his forearms. The sparkle in his dark eyes are more prominent as he takes me in. His dark hair is tousled, the smile on his face dipped in mischief, making my heart race.
He seems to embody the boy I used to know, but now with an undeniable maturity that sets my pulse racing.
He pulls me up out of my seat before encircling me with his arms, holding me tight as he twirls me around. A laugh spills out before I can help it, breathless and unsteady.
“Hannah Sanders,” he says, his voice rough in my ear. “The girl who left me spinning.”
“Lucas Walker,” I say, trying to catch my breath. “What on earth are you doing here?”
My voice sounds too small, swallowed by his broad frame. The woodsy scent of him surrounds me, the mere presence of him overwhelming all of my senses.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, his dark gaze not leaving me for a second. He’s just as tall as I remember, but his shoulders are broader, his chest harder—a solid reminder of all those hours on the ice. “I’m here with the team. Coach thought we deserved a few days off before round three, and most of the guys voted for Vegas. We needed a break from the madness.”
“Escape the madness? In Vegas?” I ask, still not able to fully catch my breath at the sight of him. He’s always had the ability to knock me off my feet. Leaving him behind in Georgetown five years ago wasn’t an easy decision, but it was one I had to make. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
