CHAPTER 2
SASHA
Do you want me to carry you?” I could see her wince as she tried to stand.
“Thank you, but I would like to keep the little dignity I have left.” She glided on one foot back to the benches. Her face flushed with anger as she caught sight of the kids who knocked her down.
Well, I couldn't say they knocked her down. She was a terrible skater and it was only a matter of time before she bit it. I was watching her, more than I should have been to be considered a gentleman, as she went down. Her legs shook on the ice in a way that pulled at my gut.
Only now do I realize what a spectacle I must have made as I raced to her side. It was a line change with ten seconds to go, fast. If my sister saw any of it as she skated around with her friends I was dead.
“Hey, you little shits! You're lucky you didn't hurt my nephew or else I would've kicked your ass!” She lunged while the group of kids laughed as they skated by.
“Whoa, whoa, okay now.” My hand gripped her arm as a reflex.
She was really about to go after them and I'm sure if she were in boots those kids would have shown some fear. I couldn't help but smile at her. She was on fire, full of a rage I only saw on the ice.
“Oh, here comes Lucifer.” The kid with her took a step back as I lifted her off her skates and set her down on a chair off on the side of the ice.
I did it without her permission, my hands around her waist, but she was so pissed she didn't even notice.
I thought it best to create space between her and the teens she was yelling at in any way I could.
She was heavy and warm and smelled like popcorn and something else I couldn't quite put my finger on.
“Fucking little assholes.” She mumbled.
Completely unaware of me standing over her, I watched her eyes follow the bullies on the ice like a tractor beam. If looks could kill, she would already be in jail. She was waiting for them to circle back again. She was waiting to strike.
It was fucking hot. Here I was thinking I would have to choke through a night of taking my sister to skate with her friends, knowing I would be abandoned and used as a chauffeur, to be so absolutely surprised by something that interested me.
Sure, I noticed her wobbly legs first, but that fire in her, that black cat scratching energy hooked me line and sinker.
“Uh, Oh Lucifer, I'm gonna tell Mommy you swore in front of me.” The boy teased.
Lucifer? That couldn't actually be her name. I was intrigued.
“No, you won't, because if you do, I'll tell her it was you who broke her favorite wine glass when you were playing hockey in the house.”
Her eyes softened when she looked at the boy, I'm going to assume is a nephew, luckily for the skaters with a death wish. I saw it as my own opportunity to introduce myself. It only took a few swear words to make me want to know more.
“I don't think you're gonna win this one, kid. Here, go get some hot chocolate.” I pulled a twenty out of my wallet and pointed to the stand with a line that would take at least five minutes to get through.
She reached in her own pocket to pay me back.
“No, no. Please let me, you took quite a hit there.” I waved her money away.
“I only feel it here, I'm too angry to feel my ankle right now.” She reached over to her left shoulder, rubbing her muscles with gloved fingers.
“I bet.” I took a knee, placing her skated foot in my hand and bending it back and forth. “Hurt?”
Her eyebrows lifted to her forehead as she watched where my hands were on her. “No. But my shoulder isn't going to help me at work tomorrow.” She smiled.
The way her eyes lit up under the night lights got me. I couldn't help but rub my chest, my fingers cold against my sweater, hoping she didn't see. Was it a twinkle? Was it a spark? It was something, that is for sure.
“Can you lift it?” I held her wrist and slowly raised her arm above her shoulder.
“As long as I can still drive home. Ouch!” She yelped and her right arm swiftly came out and punched me in the shoulder.
“Ouch!” I was startled and dropped her wrist, letting her sore arm flop to her side.
“Dammit!” She shouted and clutched her shoulder, trying to avoid the gaze of everyone around us.
We were interrupting their Kodak moment with our loud reactions and I knew it wasn't going to be appreciated this time of year. I also didn't want to draw any attention to myself if I didn't have to.
“I'm sorry.” She giggled. A bubbly giggle in stark contrast to the way her fist nearly knocked me over.
“Damn.” I rubbed my shoulder. She packed quite a punch.
“I said I'm sorry. Oh, I couldn't have hurt you that bad you're very–” She reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “Muscly.”
Our eyes met, and while it could have been my very vivid imagination, I thought I saw a little spark in her irises again, a little heat in her cheeks. It had been so long since I felt a true attraction with a woman it could just be wishful thinking.
“I'll be fine, Lucifer. I can imagine how you got that name.” I heard the boy tease her about it when she almost lunged at the teens and now I desperately needed to know the origin of such a sinful nickname.
She released me quickly and shoved her hands in her pockets. A moment of silence lingered between us. An awkward silence I desperately needed to fill. Was she mad I acknowledged the nickname?
“I mean, I'm not a doctor, but I don't hear any cracking so that should be good. Your shoulder I mean.” I chuckled. I fucking chuckled like a fifteen-year-old around the first pretty girl he ever talked to just to get her talking again.
Because she was pretty. Not in the done-up way with makeup and a tight skirt.
She was pretty in that way where you can't tell why, she just was.
Her hair was shiny in the overhead lights even if it was pulled on top of her head.
Her eyes were tired, but still sparkled as they looked at me.
An image I wasn't going to be able to get out of my head.
“That's reassuring.” She rolled her eyes at me and even that was cute.
The moment stilled. People whirled around us in holiday bliss, staring at the tree, cuddling and laughing, but my feet stuck in front of her, curious. Maybe I should be walking away after I realized she was ok, but I didn't want to. I wanted to know more about her.
“That's not really the reason...my nickname.” She bent down and started unlacing her skates. Pieces of her hair fell from her ponytail and brushed against her cheekbone.
“Is it because of this black hair?” I reached out and picked the piece up from her eyes. It was as soft as it looked.
“Nope.” Her cheeks flushed and her lips, pouty and red, curled up at the sides.
This was unexpected. When my mother forced me to bring my little sister ice skating with her friends, I thought it would be a night of dodging people and being ignored.
Of gossiping teenagers and cold fingers.
But now I'm flirting. I can't remember the last time I had the opportunity just to flirt, to chase, instead of being chased.
“Or is it that devilish grin?” My eyebrows rose in question.
“No.” She smiled wider and my stomach fluttered.
The kid's full hands grabbed my attention in my peripheral vision. I stood straighter, putting distance between myself and the woman before he sensed our flirtation.
“Hey little buddy. You got that?” His pudgy hands could barely hold the three paper cups that steamed in his face. His skates shuffled slowly to not spill. Impressive leg control for a kid so young.
“I think so. That was close.” He rested the hot chocolates on the table. Three of them.
The young man held out a cup for me. “Thank you for the hot chocolate and helping my aunt the ice sir–” But his words were cut short. As he finally looked up at me, he knew who I was.
Damn it.
I reached for the drink and immediately took the lid off, the contents undoubtedly too hot. The kid's body stiffened like a soldier as he took a step to my side, his face went pale, his eyes bugged.
“Are you okay, babe?” She brushed his sweaty hair back under his hat.
He didn't answer her. “Paulie?” She shook him but he was still. He leaned to her, his small hands clenched to the collar of her coat before he whispered in her ear.
“That's the Sarge!” His eyes drifted to me like God himself stood before him.
Shit. Now all she would see was the hockey player, the rich guy who can't seem to go anywhere without signing an autograph, with attention most women like at first, but it gets old quick. Immediately I missed the cloak of anonymity that blanketed me enough to flirt.
“The who?” She whispered back, completely unaware of who I was by the tone of her voice.
Paulie's agitation flamed at her ignorance to my profession.
“He plays for the New York Pucks.” Paulie puffed his hockey jersey in my face.
“Are you sure?” Her eyes scanned me and I felt naked.
She was judging me and it felt like waiting for the result of a test I was unsure I could pass.
His eyes bugged out further like he wanted to burn her if she didn't make some miraculous introduction. Like she was embarrassing this little fan for not knowing who I was.
Hockey was funny like that. You either knew or you didn't, it isn't as much of pop culture as basketball or football. Sure, my face gets plastered on ESPN when I make a big hit, but I'm not on cereal boxes and I don't have sneaker deals.
“I'm sorry Sir but–” She awkwardly was about to ask my name, but I cut in.
“Hi, I'm Sasha 'The Sarge' Dimitrovic, it is nice to meet you.” I air quoted myself because I was never actually in the military and I had always felt awkward with the nickname. But when I did it I felt like even more of an ass with the way her eyebrow raised.
“Nice air quotes.” She jabbed.
“Thanks.” I shot back.
“Holy shit.” A squeak came from beside me, as Paulie took my large hand and shook it, and shook it, and shook it until I thought it was going to fall off.