Ice Cold Hearts: A Single Mom, Hockey, Reverse Harem Romance (Forbidden Fantasies)

10. Oliver

The crowd at the bar is large, but even so, Emily is taking a long time to get back to our table. Water isn’t a complicated drink to make. You grab a glass, scoop some ice, and fill it up.

A nervous prickle runs down my spine. The club is as safe as it could be, but low risk isn’t no risk. Has something happened to her?

I search the crowd at the bar. Finding her should bring me relief, but it doesn’t. Liza has her cornered by the end of the bar.

Ian should have stayed with her.

I shake my head to banish the thought. None of this is Ian’s fault. This is my problem.

Liza is a powerful force of nature, and when her efforts are focused on the work, I wouldn’t want anyone else on my team. I don’t know if I’d even be with the Cold Hearts if it weren’t for her efforts. Unfortunately, she keeps trying to expand her focus into areas I’m determined to keep private.

Up until this point, it’s been little more than an annoyance reinforcing these boundaries with her. Having a good agent in this business is better than having your weight in gold, and she is one of the best. So why does the sight of her with Emily set my teeth on edge?

If we were a committed thing, I’d be able to swoop in and rescue Emily from Liza’s well-meaning clutches. As soon as I set that boundary, Liza will pout, but she’ll get over it when I send her some candy and a note about her being a good agent. She always does.

Except this is our first date with Emily. She’s not even sure if she wants to see us again. Rushing in and pulling her away would send a clear message to everyone here, which is exactly what she doesn’t want.

Being stuck between a rock and a hard place seems like a five-star vacation compared to how trapped I feel right now. I have no idea how to get out of this in a way that keeps everyone happy.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. Our dancing was tame compared to some of the people here, so Liza couldn’t have gotten any ideas. I don”t have an unobstructed view of Emily”s face, so I can”t tell whether she”s upset or enjoying herself.

What could they possibly be talking about?

After a moment or two, she saves me from my indecision by meeting my eyes. I don”t know her well enough yet to accurately interpret her mood, but the tight set of her shoulders tells me what I need to know.

The relief in her eyes when I wave her over is almost tangible. My jaw relaxes as I see her start to scoot past Liza. I”ve done it. I”ve solved the problem without having to deal with anyone”s fragile ego and managed it all without leaving my seat. I Inflate with unearned pride like an overstuffed bag of microwave popcorn.

Here”s the thing about popcorn. The minute you look away from it and let your guard down is the identical minute it burns or explodes.

I swear I only turned around for a couple of seconds to tell Ian something, and all hell has broken loose. Liza is screaming. Everyone in the club is staring in their direction.

If reading Alexei is like looking through frosted glass, then Emily is a reinforced steel door. It’s unnerving how closed off she looks. When she heads for the bathroom again, I see the violent red splashed all across her dress.

She’s going to run.

The thought pops into my head as soon as she disappears behind the bathroom door. I don’t know how I know this, but I feel in my bones that I’m right.

A hazy image of waking up on the shore of a lake with no shirt in sight lingers at the back of my brain. I know it’s connected somehow, but now isn’t the time for idle musing.

Ian and Alexei are so focused on the bathroom door that they miss my first attempt to get their attention.

“Hey!” I shout, maybe a little louder than necessary.

Ian startles but Alexei just imperiously raises an eyebrow.

“She’s going to try to sneak out of here. If we don’t want to lose our shot with her, we have to try to fix this,” I insist.

“How could you possibly know that?” Alexei demands.

“Do you remember how you blew me off when I said she looked familiar?” I ask.

He nods.

“Well, I’m getting surer by the minute that I know her somehow.” I move my stare to Ian, knowing what’s coming. “Don’t ask because I don’t know yet. What I do know is that we need to make sure we give her a better ending than this or she’s never going to want to see us again.”

Alexei immediately takes charge.

“Ian, phones and wallets,” he barks. “Oliver, the tab. I’m going to use the landline at the bar to tell the driver to start making his way here.”

“Wait.” Ian’s voice stops us mid-motion. “Should we tell them to come around the front or the back?”

“She has to go out the front to get her things,” Alexei answers. “There’s no way she’s doubling back all the way through. Besides, going in the back was just an extra layer of precaution. Astrid’s always clears press from the entire block, and it’s not the usual arrival or leave time, so they’re less likely to try to sneak past security right now.”

At Alexei’s nod, we scatter. No further discussion is needed, and I”m struck with how we”re just as much of a team off the ice as we are on it. Even if I had biological brothers, Alexei and Ian would still be superior to them. They”re certainly superior to the blood relatives I do have.

The middle child always has to fight for their voice to be heard in any family, but with four high-achieving sisters, I was essentially mute. If I wasn”t solving problems to keep the peace, I was causing them so I didn”t feel invisible.

But Oliver, surely, that”s changed now that you”re a famous athlete, right?

Absolutely not.

McKennas are old money and should never debase themselves by “performing sports tricks for a mass of blue-collar barbarians.” At least that”s what my father said when I told him I was getting offers from pro teams as a junior. He”d been so sure that I”d tire of my “little hobby” and settle into the cushy COO job at his company like a good boy. It didn”t matter that I hated his predatory business practices or had done nothing to earn the job. A McKenna father-son duo has always held court at the McKenna McKenna Investment Incorporation, and it damn sure wasn”t going to change now.

Sharon, the eldest, became the son he always wanted once it became clear I was sticking with my “little hobby”. She might be the spitting image of Mom, but the hole where her heart should be is all Dad. Even after she got married, there were still two McKennas at the boardroom table because I shit you not, she made Jason take her last name.

Mom wasn”t any better with her, “Why can”t you be a professor at Harvard like Jeanette or follow in Abigail”s footsteps and get something like her Clark Kerr Award?” And her, “At least Claudia is in the headlines for the right reasons,” as if being caught fucking some celebrity”s husband on a hotel balcony was better than winning the Stanley Cup. I wouldn”t be surprised if that article is still framed and on the wall at their house. Claudia”s article, I mean, not mine.

Before Alexei”s parents died, none of that mattered. His dad even called me his fils bonus, bonus son, and in private, it was mon petit canard, my little duck. I asked him about it once, and I”ll never forget what he said. “Because, Oliver, your feet go shoosh-shoosh like crazy.” And yes, there were hand motions with the shoosh-shooshing. “But your top half is still as stone like the duck.”

Right after their funeral, Alexei and I were a wreck. I don”t know how it happened, but we were in the cemetery parking lot and then when I blinked, we were at a tattoo parlor. Alexei got a tiny cabbage wearing an ushanka, and I got a duck wearing the same, to honor his French father and Russian mother. There was no discussion beforehand, but we both chose to place them over our hearts. There”s not a day I don”t miss the sound of Mr. Pierre singing while he cooked or the way Ms. Liliya muttered curses in Russian at the squirrels in her bird feeder.

Our little family is a lot smaller now. I thought it”d be just me and Alexei forever until Ian. Even before his shoulder injury, we were all getting close. Helping him through the darkest days of his recovery just sped up the process. Adding Ian into the mix made things a little better, but something was still missing. Dating Rachel was all right until it crashed and burned. With Colleen, it was almost perfect, but something was still missing that I could never put my finger on.

With Emily, things already feel different. She’s not afraid to go toe to toe with Alexei, and unlike Rachel, she sees his gruff comments as the dry wit they are rather than a personal character attack. We’ve barely been around her a week and she’s gotten this man to smile in public. In the privacy of the one physical therapy session I went to, she actually got him to laugh, which is something I hadn’t heard since his parents died. And Ian? Emily leans into his sensitive side instead of pulling away and telling him he’s too much. As for me, it feels like she’s being goofy with me instead of my having to put on a performance for her.

It’s nothing short of pathetic that I’m already addicted to it, to her.

I can’t let this be over before it starts. I won’t.

It’s in this joyous mood that I close out our tab. I can tell by the server’s expression that the nicest word she could describe me with right now is jackass. Normally, I’d be better at hiding it, but anxiety over Emily getting away has eroded the charming mask I put on in public. To make up for my attitude and hopefully prevent the server from hating me, my tip is sixty percent of the tab.

Why do I even care what women I barely know think of me?

There’s not enough time or therapists in the world for me to even begin to answer that question. So, I stuff it down with all the other things I can’t face knowing full well that it’ll come to haunt me in the middle of the night like the ghosts did to Scrooge.

The server accepts my signed receipt with a fake smile that quickly turns into the real deal when she glances at the tip line. She looks like she’s not sure whether to hug me or cry. I manage to slip away before she does either.

I rush toward the exit. There’s nothing standing between me and salvaging this date now.

A well-manicured hand grips my arm tightly, and I stop with a jerk like a dog who’s reached the end of its tether. I don’t need to turn around to know who it is. There’s only one person with the balls to manhandle me like that.

Liza holds my career in her hands. I can’t afford to piss her off, but my gut is telling me losing Emily would be just as bad, if not worse.

“Liza.” I nod politely. “Nice to see you.”

She takes this as an invitation to snuggle into my arm.

“Ollie, what happened to your friend?” she asks, wide-eyed.

Calling me Ollie is enough of an indicator that she’s drunk, but her pupils being the size of moons confirm it for me. I sigh. Drunk Liza might be clingier than sober Liza, but at least she’s easier to get rid of.

“My friend is going home to change her clothes,” I say, fighting to keep a neutral tone.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Liza says, reaching up to stroke my hair, “What happened?”

“You know exactly what happened,” I answer tersely.

“It was an accident,” she says in the baby voice that always annoys me.

“Spilling drinks on one woman is an accident. Two is bad luck. Five is a pattern, Liza,” I say, gently prying her off me.

“I’m just trying to look out for you.” She pouts. “You won’t want to be with a woman who throws a fit if her clothes get a little mussed. I’m just trying to protect you and weed out some of the crazy high-strung ones.”

I take a long breath. Causing a scene will only make things worse.

“Liza, you’re a great agent. I need you to manage my hockey career, but that’s all you need to manage. I’m glad you want to protect me, but my friendships or any other relationships are mine to manage,” I say, placating her.

“Other relationships? Do I need to put out a press release about this girl?” Liza asks, slurring her words.

“If you must know, that was a top health professional I was trying to convince to take me on as a client,” I say, stretching the truth a bit.

Liza’s mouth drops open. “I didn’t know.”

“Exactly,” I say gently, even though I’m seconds away from shaking her. “You assumed and might have cost me a vital contact. If she hasn’t left yet, I’m going to try and salvage things. Expect a receipt for dry cleaning or a new dress on your desk on Monday.”

She nods owlishly and lets me go, completely forgetting that she usually arranges those things for me and would have known about it. I feel a little guilty at taking advantage of her drunken state, but not guilty enough to stick around.

Getting rid of Liza so quickly is a good omen. Tonight is definitely turning around. The closer I get to the door, the more I’m convinced that as soon as I get outside, I’ll see Emily being comforted by Alexei and Ian. Then I’d swoop in and save the day with the promise of a brand-new dress. Or better yet, they’d all already be in the car waiting to laugh things off after another round of drinks. I was so sure of it that I bound out the front of the club with a smile on my face.

The grin drops from my face as I walk into a red-faced Emily tearing my teammates a new one.

Why did I think that one lucky break was a divine omen of positivity? Too many drinks is why. The other shoe always drops. Always.

I should have known I’d be walking into a catastrophe.

“Unreasonable?” she seethes. “You kept me from getting in the cab, and he threatened the cabbie to make him leave, and I’m being unreasonable? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Emily, talk to me, not him. Let me handle it,” Alexei demands.

“There’s nothing you can do to save him, so don’t even try,” she snarls then whirls back on Ian, “Please explain to me exactly how my being angry at someone who is basically holding me hostage is unreasonable. Go ahead. I fucking dare you.”

“Will you calm down and listen to me?” Ian snaps.

Alexei and I both cringe.

I can practically feel the rage rolling off her right now.

As usual, it’s up to me to fix it. I glance up the street and see the limo rounding the corner. Perfect timing, but how on earth am I going to get her to come with us now?

The idea hits me so fast I get whiplash. This is either going to fix everything or she’s never going to talk to any of us again.

Things can’t possibly get worse, so I might as well go for it.

“Ian, that’s no way to treat an angry woman. You know full well you have to recalibrate them when they’re angry,” I tease.

I turn toward Emily, meeting her scowl with my trademark lopsided grin. “And you, ma’am, promised us an entire date night. It’s barely eleven, and I refuse to allow any woman to leave a date more miserable than she started it. So, you are coming with me to the car and we’ll see if we can’t fix that attitude of yours?”

She puffs up like an angry cat and starts in on me. “Of all the misogynistic, sexist men in the world, you are by far–”

I don’t let her finish. Instead, I scoop her up, throw her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and start running for the car.

I’m relieved when the obscenities streaming from her mouth turn into laughter.

Just to be sure, I turn my head and ask, “You alright? Feeling better?”

“Absolutely not,” she declares.

I can hear the smile in her voice even if I can’t see it. I loosen my grip on her, not enough that she’s in danger of falling but enough to make her bounce against my shoulder more. We’re about fifty feet from the limo with Alexei and Ian hot on our heels, so I pick up the pace.

“What was that?” I ask. “I couldn’t hear you.”

“Yes,” she squeals. “I’m feeling better. Are you happy?”

I set her down gently next to the limo door and open it for her.

“I’d be happier if you said I’m the king of fixing bad dates and that you can’t wait to jump in my bed and thank me.” I grin.

“You are insufferable,” she says, halfheartedly swatting at me.

“That’s not a no,” I say, sliding into the car next to her.