Page 6 of Christmas on Ice
Afew days after I got my car back from the auto repair shop, the Voltage gathered at Brewski’s again. I stood at the end of the bar, eyes glued to Trask’s retreating form as he walked from the bathroom to the function room and disappeared inside. Just the sight of him made my butterflies do loop-de-loops.
My attraction to him had grown gradually since I met him last spring, but especially the last few days. He’d followed me home and flashed his lights, driving on as I pulled into my driveway.
I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since.
I wondered if he felt a spark. I got the sense he liked me, but for whatever reason, he kept it to himself. Didn’t matter, though. I wasn’t in a place to start a new relationship, even if I wanted to. I had to think about Ryleigh and our future once I finished my degree. It wouldn’t do any good to get attached to a transient professional athlete.
“Kami…” Brenna’s voice cut through my daydream. She and our friend Chelsea had just come from the game. Chelsea was a member of the Voltage’s spirit squad and managed the cheer gym at the Plex, Palmer City’s rec complex, where pretty much everything sports- and fitness-related happened. It housed the Voltage’s practice rink and a one-stop-shop with restaurants, medical offices, after-school programs, and even Ryleigh’s daycare, which many of the athletes’ children attended.
My eyes were still fixed on the function room entrance. “Mm?”
I jumped when she poked my shoulder.
“You good?” She smirked with that knowing look of a longtime friend who’s on to you.
“Too good, I’m afraid.” I placed three pitchers of beer on my tray and sighed. “Wrong time, wrong place, wrong career for a crush.”
Chelsea grunted. “Word is he likes you, too. You’re single now. Why not see if there’s more than vibes between you?”
“You can seevibes?”My voice rose with each word, and I had to take a step to keep the tray balanced while they grinned at me like scheming Cheshire cats. They’d been friends since kindergarten and I swear sometimes they shared a brain.
“Oh yeah,” Drew interrupted, setting a plate of shepherd’s pie bites on the bar between them. “He watches you all the time.”
“He—what?”
“Not creepy-like.” Drew shrugged. “I bet he wants to ask you out but doesn’t know how.”
I rolled my eyes. “What is it with guys? It’s six words: ‘Will you go out with me?’ Simple.”
“Well…” Drew said, an uneasy tone to his voice. He swallowed. “You’re pretty intimidating, Kami.”
“Me? Why?” This was news. I was intimidating? To these guys? A professional athlete and restaurant manager? I was a single mom and a student, serving tables to pay for private preschool that was close to work and home so Brenna could help. They were intimidated byme?I couldn’t believe that.
“Uh…” He looked at Brenna for help.
“Enlighten us, Drew,” she said.Good.I wanted to know what made me so unapproachable.
He swallowed again. “First, you’re super smart. You’re getting a doctorate in science. Do you know how many guys had the hots for you when you taught my earth science class last fall?”
I blinked and tried to ignore his last comment. “So? I like to analyze dirt. It’s not fancy, I assure you.”
Brenna snorted, which caused Chelsea to giggle. I shot them a glare.
Drew continued. “And, well … you have a great kid. But it’s a big role to step into for a guy in his twenties.” Drew was just out of college, so it didn’t surprise me he thought that. But Trask was my age, at least according to the Voltage stats.
“She already has a father,” I said. Brenna snorted again, and I glared at her. Sutton might not be the most dedicated father, but he wasn’t a deadbeat. “I’m not looking for a new dad for Ryleigh. Geez.”
I left them at the bar and plastered a smile on my face. The function room was hopping. I greeted the team members I knew. As I set out the third pitcher, my phone vibrated, the sound increasing in urgency by the second.
“Is that your phone?” asked the gentle rolling Russian-accented voice of Kira Antonova, wife of Rurik Antonov, the Voltage’s first line right winger. Their daughter, Natasha, was in Ryleigh’s preschool class.
“It is. I’ll check it in a bit.”
“Check now. Might be school. I just got off the phone with the girls’ teacher, and they are needing to close early. Food poisoning outbreak.”
I gasped. “Are the girls—”
“No, no.” She waved her hand. “It was the teachers. Something wrong with a cake they brought in for a staff birthday.”
