Off Limits PUCK (Love on Ice #1)

Snowed In With the PUCK

Chapter One – Eric

The air smells like snow. Cold and crisp, invigorating my senses. It reminds me of being on the ice in the rink, with all the fans shouting my NHL nickname: Gator. A pang of regret fills me. I’ll never set foot in the Nashville Eagles arena as their hockey player again.

I shove that thought away for the hundredth time. Despite doing my best, I found myself far from my friends and the camaraderie of the on-ice team I cherish. This will be the first Christmas in six years that I’m not in Nashville. It hurts.

I can’t quite explain it, but the cold that bites my nose after I turn off the car and the way the clouds hang low over the mountains makes everything seem better. And right now, I need every bit of a boost that I can find.

I pull the zipper of my jacket up to my chin as I step out of the rental car, breathing in the sharp mountain air. Nashville never felt like this, not even close. Back there, winter means gray skies and chilly rain. Here, in the Colorado mountains, the cold feels alive, clean, and ready to turn everything snowy white.

“Here goes nothing,” I say as I stretch to my full height, surveying the land, the driveway, the trees, and the place I’ll be staying until I buy my own.

The house in front of me is massive, with wooden beams and enormous windows tucked into the trees on the side of the mountain. The kind of place that should feel cozy, maybe even a little magical this close to Christmas. But I can’t fully push away the feeling that I don’t belong here. Hell, I’m not even sure I belong on the NHL team, the Colorado Avalanche. Traded out of Nashville and off the Eagles in the middle of the season like I’m some damaged goods they didn’t want anymore? That’s going to take some getting used to. Now I’m in Denver, no place to call home, just this loaner house from Bill Stanton, the team’s coach.

I take a deep breath and grab my duffel bag from the trunk. The house is supposed to be empty. Just me and a five-bedroom glamorous and upscale cabin for now, at least until I figure out something more permanent. “No rush,” Bill had said when he offered the place. But I know better. The pressure’s on. I need to prove myself all over again, and I can’t screw up this time. I learned in Nashville, even a perceived screw up is a career changer.

The front door feels heavy and solid as I push it open. I step inside, blinking against the warmth. It smells like pine and cinnamon here, like someone was just baking something in a kitchen I haven’t even seen yet. The lights are dim, casting a golden glow on the wooden floors and walls. Cozy, definitely. The kind of place I’d have loved as a kid.

I send Coach Bill a text thanking him again and promising to stop by the arena for the team practice the next day. He sends me a thumbs up and that’s that.

“Well, I guess it’s me, myself, and I for tonight.”

I drop my bag near the stairs and shrug off my jacket, tossing it over the banister. As I wander through the house, I notice some perks that my hockey-playing bod will appreciate. A sauna room in the basement. A built-in jacuzzi and a reasonably well-stocked workout room. I guess Coach redid this place with fitness or ski enthusiasts in mind. The walk-out basement is pristine, and I smile as I push open the double doors leading to a stunning view of the mountain.

“Paradise,” I say, feeling more relaxed.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I glance at the screen—Jake. The team captain and my fellow NHL hockey player from Nashville. He has never failed to have my back, no matter what I faced back on the Eagles. I hit answer, pressing the phone to my ear as I wander upstairs toward the kitchen.

“Hey, man,” I say, flipping on the light. I’m met with big granite counters, double ovens, all that fancy stuff. Definitely more than I need.

“Eric. How’s Denver treating you so far? Already causing trouble, I bet.”

I let out a small laugh, though it’s more of a huff. “Haven’t seen much of it yet. Just got here. The house is massive. Big enough for a missus and two kids.”

I recoil at my own words. Since when was I even considering a relationship? I must be losing my mind.

“You’re up in that mountain place your new coach owns, right?”

New coach . I grab an apple from the counter’s display bowl. It’s fresh and crisp. New coach and new team. I better start getting pumped about it. I can’t go out onto the ice without believing in this team and still expect to win games.

I smirk. “Well, that’s confidential information now, isn’t it. Since we’re rivals.”

Jake laughs. “If you think I’m going to go easy on you out on the ice just ‘cause you’ve been one of the best NHL forwards on my team, you’re dead wrong there, buddy.”

“Noted. But yeah, the digs are cool. I’m in the boonies, so the hike to get to the arena is going to be a big-time sink. But Bill—coach—is doing me a favor until I get settled.”

“Time sink, huh? That’s rich coming from a single guy with nothing but time on his hands outside the game and the ice!”

Jake married the love of his life, Allie, last year, so I can imagine he still remembers the days when we would literally talk on the phone while in our separate houses watching a football game, just so it didn’t feel like we were alone.

I have the urge to thank him for being such a good friend, but I don’t. He knows he’s appreciated. And that’s enough for me. I lean against the counter, staring out the window into the darkness. The wind’s picking up outside, pushing the trees around like they’re bending under its weight.

Jake’s voice drops, quieter. “You doing okay, man?”

I know what he means. The trade out of Nashville wasn’t exactly the best part of my career. They blamed me for that whole mess on and off the ice, and I’ve been carrying it largely without support, except for Jake.

“I’m getting there,” I tell him, which is a half-truth. “Just need some time.”

“Christmas coming up. You should just head on back here. Allie and I will put you up for the holidays, assuming our NHL off-time schedules match up.”

I close my eyes for a second. The thought of Christmas has been gnawing at me ever since I stepped off the plane in Denver. A funny combination of Thanksgiving and Christmas decorations are already up everywhere here, lights in the windows, wreaths on doors.

The holidays have always been a hard time for me. Losing my parents when I was just a kid, being raised by my grandparents… the holidays never felt right after that.

“And butt in on one of your and Allie’s first Christmases together? No way, dude,” I say, pushing the thought aside. “But I’ll deal with it here on my own. No biggie.”

“Yeah, I hear you.” There’s a pause on the line, then Jake clears his throat. “Well, listen, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out, alright? Even if it’s just to talk. I may kick your butt out there on the ice during games, but off the ice, we’re still chill. We’re friends.”

I can’t stop the smirk from coming back on my face. This is the guy who used to be the league’s hottest ladies’ man for a decade, and now he’s all settled down and mature. I can hardly believe how much he changed when he met Allie. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

We hang up, and I set the phone on the counter, staring down at it for a second longer. It’s quiet now, just the ticking of a clock somewhere in the house and the sound of the wind picking up outside.

I toss away the apple core, push myself off the counter and head toward the living room, flipping on another light as I pass through. The house is beautiful, no denying that, but it’s way too big for just me. I miss my penthouse bachelor pad back in Nashville.

I head down to the steam room, strip naked, noting the small fridge with bottles of cold water in it and lots of neatly rolled up towels on teak shelving. Okay, maybe the house is a bit big for me, but it is well-stocked with more than the essentials.

I wrap a towel around my waist and sit in the sauna, letting the sweat and heat wash away my amped up thoughts. I need to relax if I have a prayer of a chance of sleeping at all tonight.

Half an hour later and freshly showered off in the basement shower, the adrenaline of flying to a new state and settling into a new house is gone. I clutch the towel to my waist and whistle as I walk up the basement stairs.

It’s late—past nine o’clock—and I briefly contemplate trying to order food for delivery.

Absentmindedly, I look at my phone but then freeze at the top step. I hear the distinct click of the front door opening, followed by the shuffle of footsteps. Not sure what’s going on, I charge toward the entryway at the front of the house. I thought I was supposed to have this place to myself. In fact, Coach Stanton assured me that the only souls who would come here would be the cleaning service once a week. It’s too late for the intruder to be them.

I step into the entryway just as a woman walks in. She’s hauling a suitcase behind her, her dark hair pulled back into a messy bun, and she’s muttering something under her breath. She doesn’t notice me right away—too focused on balancing her luggage and a slim computer bag tucked under her arm.

“Excuse me… you’re in the wrong house,” I say, crossing my arms over my suddenly very bare-feeling chest. I almost laugh at the absurdity—I’m only wearing a towel and still I’m trying to look intimidating?

The dark-haired girl jumps, nearly dropping everything as she whips around to face me. Her eyes go wide and then they turn sultry as she surveys my muscled chest and core. I’m an athlete, so being chiseled sort of comes with the territory.

“Wow,” she says, then snaps her mouth shut. I bite back a laugh. I guess she likes what she sees.

She’s astonishingly pretty with rosy cheeks and a slender build and eyes as blue as sapphires. She’s gorgeous. And is also becoming very mad, right before my eyes.

“I’m in the wrong house? Excuse you,” she slices her words through the air, eyes narrowing as she scans me up and down, all traces of lust gone. “Maybe you better tell me what you are doing in my house?”

“Your house?”

She says it with such vehemence that I suddenly doubt whether I’m in the right spot. “Pretty sure this place belongs to Bill Stanton. Does the name ring a bell? He told me I could stay here for a while.”

Her jaw drops. “Kathy—his ex-wife—said I could stay here. I’m new in town and just arrived tonight. I think you must’ve made a mistake. Or maybe Kathy got it wrong. They use this place for an Airbnb you know.”

“Or maybe you got it wrong. Are you sure you were supposed to show up today?” I know Coach Bill well enough to know the man is not hazy about his details.

She gives me a cold smile, and it actually freezes me for a moment. “Oh, I’m very certain that this house,” she points her finger around, luggage by her feet, “is supposed to be for my use only until I find a place of my own in Denver. Are we clear? I think you should head out, mister.”

I uncross my arms to take a step towards her. At that moment, my towel drops, leaving me as naked as the day I was born. Her eyes drop and she stares at my cock, which, either to my chagrin or pride, has started to grow to its fullest length.

“Wow,” she says again, just making my arousal more pronounced.

I immediately wonder what it would be like to hear that word every day from her… as platonic housemates, of course.