Page 11 of Fire and Ice
Nope. Not going there.
She placed her phone on the tabletop and stared at it again. When she’d run into him at the grocery store, she’d been surprised, but she’d been glad, too. She felt confident and comfortable around him in a way she never felt off the ice. It was an intense sensation of being safe and protected. As nuts as it sounded, he made her feel as if she could take on the world.
Jeez. She barely knew him, and she already had crazy feelings for him. Feelings she had to put to an end.
She needed to get this done and over with and tell him she couldn’t go out after all. One thing she’d never done was call a guy she didn’t know well, a guy who wanted to date her. The shy side of her wanted her to toss his number in the garbage. Again. She knew it was only right to call him and tell him herself.
When he’d first asked her, she had been excited about going out with him—and here she was, ready to cancel a second time.
She’d never been wishy-washy, so why was she being that way with Grady? He set her body on fire in all the right places, and he was the only one who could put out those flames.
After sucking in air and letting out her breath several times, she picked up her cell and got to her feet. She started pacing her living room, from the kitchen table, into the living room to the Christmas tree, and back again.
Another deep breath, and she entered the code to unlock the phone. It took three tries. She paused near the tree, looked at the card, and then used the keypad to dial his number. Before she pressed the connect icon, she straightened and braced herself.
When she pressed the icon, the call went immediately to voicemail. A combination of disappointment and relief scattered her thoughts in opposite directions.
She pulled them back together as she listened to the recording. His voice had a husky quality to it. She could just imagine him whispering in her ear while they were in bed together. “You’ve reached Grady Donovan. Leave a message, and I’ll get right back to you.”
A shiver rolled over her body, followed by goose bumps prickling her skin.
She loved his voice and the way it made her feel. It was so sexy. It made her body tingle all over. Dear lord, but she had to get her mind away from the direction it constantly wanted to head in.
A beep and then a pause. Oh, yeah. She needed to leave a message. She immediately dismissed telling him “No” in an impersonal way, like a phone message. Instead, she left her number and disconnected the call.
Grady rubbed sweat from the back of his neck and forehead before drying his hair with a hand towel. He dropped the towel on a bench near the ice rink and grabbed his water bottle before downing most of the contents. At one time, he would have had vodka and Coke in his bottle, but those days were long gone. He’d just celebrated eight years of sobriety a month ago.
Yeah, a celebration.
Memories slammed into him. Non-memories, more like it, when he’d black out for hours and never remember a thing he’d done during his full-on drunk. College had been one big party. Alcoholism was in his blood from a long line of them in the big Irish family he was so proud of. He’d seen what his family went through due to the alcoholism—his mother, aunts, grandmother, and cousins all had to deal with the fallout due to the drunks in their own lives.
Fuck. He’d been told he shouldn’t have touched the shit to begin with, but of course, he’d thought he could hold his liquor, unlike other family members. One big lie to himself.
He finished chugging the water and jammed the bottle into his duffel bag. He’d never touch a drop of alcohol again. Not one damned drop. But like any recovering addict, it was one day at a time. One damned day at a time.
“Good practice.” David Hanley slapped Grady on the shoulder, jerking him from his dark thoughts. David frowned. “You okay?”
Grady returned fully to the present. “You bet.” Tension eased from him. “Looking forward to the league game this weekend.”
David nodded. “You’re going to kick ass. With you on the team, it’s like having a ringer. Sure you’ve never played in the pros?”
“I wish.” Grady shook his head and smiled even though the memory sucked. “I played in college until I blew out my knee and broke my leg in three places.” He didn’t mention that the injuries were due to rolling his car when he’d been drunk off his ass. He’d been fortunate no one had been with him—he’d creamed his car. His seatbelt and the airbags saved his sorry hide.
After being in ICU for a week, he had been in a hospital bed for another month. During that time, he’d gone through the tremors to the point they’d nearly had to strap him to the bed. Once he was through withdrawals, he went sober. AA had helped, and he still made at least one meeting a week.
“Something wrong?” David’s frown jerked Grady back to reality.
Grady shook his head and slapped David on the back. “All’s great here, buddy.”
“Good.” David hitched the strap of a duffel bag over his shoulder. “Gotta have you sharp and ready for Sunday afternoon.”
Grady saluted David. “You bet, coach.”
David laughed. “Head home and grab some sleep.”
“I think I’ll do that.” Grady pulled his phone out of the side pocket of his own duffel. “See you later.”
David grinned and headed off in the direction some of the other players who’d participated in the scrimmage had gone.
