Ice Contact (Milwaukee Steel Riders #1)

19. Olivia

19

olivia

“ A re you sure this looks okay?” I ask Maggie, turning side to side in my full-length mirror to show her outfit number seven I’ve tried on. What does one wear to casually show a super handsome, fabulous kisser, pro-hockey player around the city?

I have on a pair of black leggings, a black and white v-neck t-shirt, a navy bomber jacket, and white tennis shoes with a leopard print logo on them.

“I’m acting like this is a date. Is it a date? Do you have to use the word date for it to be a date?” My breath catches in my chest, the edges of my vision going fuzzy as I continue to spiral.

“Olivia. Girl, breathe. You worry too much. You look fabulous. Smoking hot, if I do say so myself. It’s just the right amount of sexy, sporty, and chic. I would think a certain pro athlete would go crazy over an outfit like this. As long as you are comfortable in your outfit, that’s what matters,” she reassures me, some of the fear and tension leeching from my body. “Whether you call it a date or not, this guy went out of his way not only to ask you to show him around the city, but to give you a jersey he wore in a game. If you ask me…he’s got it bad for you.” She scoffs, pretending to pout as she eyes me up and down. “You and your damn red hair. Why can’t I have red hair?”

“Mags, your chocolate brown hair is to die for, and you know it. You can’t go anywhere without turning heads, but if you want red hair, they have this new thing called hair dye; have you heard of it? You think my hair is actually this color red?” I joke, my lips twitching as I try to hide my smile.

“Whatever. You know I tried red and it wasn’t a good color for my skin tone. You and your forever tanned skin with fucking gorgeous red hair is impossible to compete with as a single girl living on the streets looking for a man,” she replies as I laugh once again.

“Mags…it’s a spray tan. My pale skin is my least favorite feature, and I feel more confident in myself with a little glow. I know there is a great guy out there for you. We’ll keep looking.” Maggie smiles, some of the life and confidence bleeding back into her.

“I expect to hear about every second of your day date at brunch tomorrow! Mimosas are on me, so I can get you nice and relaxed and you won’t even bat an eye at giving me all the sordid details.”

“Maggie, we are going to lunch , then I’m showing him a few places around the city. How sordid could that get?”

“There are a lot of sordid things you can do in broad daylight, Liv.”

I roll my eyes, “He’s going to be here soon, and I need to finish getting ready without thinking about starring in my own romance novel. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The thought of doing anything with 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 would never open 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 this is a date. I am technically available 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 forgive him, 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 out and the 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 is expensive. 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. Who wouldn’t google 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.

And he’s still choosing to read.

“I’m sorr-” I stop mid-word, catching myself using the s-word. “It’s a bad habit. I will let you pay for things, and I will try my best to stop apologizing,” I say politely.

“Good,” he says as he sets his card in the bill - does this thing have a name? and hands it to our server walking by. “Now that we have that settled, what if we make things a little more interesting? Let’s make a bet.”

“A bet? A bet on what?”

He continues, his smile positively sinful, “If you can go the rest of the day without saying the s-word, I will give you a prize.”

“A prize? Are we at a 5 th grade carnival? Are you going to win a little plastic spider ring to put on my finger?” I say flashing a feisty grin.

“I mean, if that’s what you’d like your prize to be, I can arrange that,” he says with a smile. But this time, there’s a hint of deviousness in his eyes as well. Something I thought only existed in my books. “But…I have some other things in mind.”

Well, now I’m intrigued. I cock my head to the side with my eyes narrowed in on his. “And if I fail, then what?”

“Well, as most bets go, you’ll have to endure some sort of punishment,” he says.

Oh. My. God.

Heat flushes my face at the thought of winning anything from this man. Even a punishment. Why is it so hot in here? Does every establishment in Milwaukee County need their air-conditioning tuned up?

“Do I get to know what the prize or the punishment is?”

He settles back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest with a smug smirk. “Nope. It’s a blind bet. Take it or leave it.”

“And what about you, Hayes? What’s your prize going to be?”

He looks at me with his smoldering brown eyes, making me press my thighs together as my breath catches. I think I’m starting to understand this smoldering word a little better now.

“I’ve already gotten my prize,” he says with a wink as the server walks back to the table with his card. “So, my little siren, are you in or out?”

With slickness between my legs and desire thrumming through my veins, I don’t hesitate. I look him straight in the eyes, matching his smirk with one of my own.

“I’m in.”