Frosting and Face-offs (Golden Stars Hockey #2)

Chapter 1

Otto

Crash and Burn

My breath catches and my heart stutters at my first glance of Bailey’s roommate, Mia. She’s gorgeous. Staring across the room, I pause for a moment to think of the perfect introduction that’ll sweep her off her feet. Well, maybe not that exactly. I’d be happy if she would agree to go out with me.

We’re gathered in our rental house to watch the NHL draft. My teammate, who’s also my housemate, has an excellent chance to be drafted as the number one first round pick. Levi’s worked hard and he deserves everything he’s going to get—the fat contract, big signing bonus, and the girl. Bailey and Levi got engaged after an unexpected, whirlwind romance that started with a DoorDash delivery and led to true love.

“Why are you hiding out over here?” my other housemate, Joey, asks as he saunters over to my corner of the room. He’s holding an overflowing plate and by the looks of things, he’s going to eat his weight in jumbo shrimp, cheese and crackers, and cookies. The guy has an unrivaled appetite and sweet tooth.

“I’m waiting until after the draft announcement to make my move on her,” I say, jutting my chin towards Mia.

Joey snorts. “The prissy, uptight roommate? The one who’s going to be a lawyer?” he says with disbelief lacing his voice. He points to the opposite side of the room. “I’m partial to that one. She’s approachable at least.” Bailey’s other roommate, Emma, is having an animated conversation with one of our other teammates.

“You better move fast! Carson’s hitting on her and by the looks of things, he’s making progress.”

“Pfft!” Joey says with an eye roll. “He doesn’t know a thing about how to romance a woman.”

Joey thinks he’s our resident Casanova. He dates a lot of women, but none of them stick. Me, on the other hand, haven’t dated in ages because no one’s caught my attention. Until now.

Ignoring Joey’s over confidence regarding his ability to woo the ladies, I say, “I know your real motivation. Emma owns a bakery and you just want a supplier to feed your sugar habit.”

Joey dramatically puts his hand over his heart as if wounded by my comment. “You think that’s my only motivation? Baked goods?”

Snickering, I nod towards his plate. “If that stack of cookies is any indication.”

He shrugs, then tackles the food on his plate. “You should go get a plate before the only thing left is the veggie platter,” he mumbles between bites.

Deciding to take my chances later on the food, I focus my eyes back on Mia, tracking her as she mingles with other guests. She moves gracefully, standing out in the crowd like a flamingo in a flock of geese. She seems to be avoiding my hockey teammates, but I assure myself that it’s because none of them are handsome and debonair like me. I do wonder why she’s dressed in a suit. Everyone else is wearing casual clothes like T-shirts and blue jeans. The unconventional attire adds to her allure and mystique. A well-dressed rebel who isn’t worried about standing out against the crowd.

“Whoo Hoo!”

Cheers and applause erupt on TV as well as in the crowded living room.

“Sounds like the Ducks took Levi as their first pick,” Joey says, his eyes squinting to watch the banner message scrolling at the bottom of the 72-inch TV screen.

“That’s our cue,” I say, handing Joey one of the New Years Eve party horns we purchased for this occasion. We strut around the room, blowing our horns, giving high fives to our teammates as well as to Levi—after he’s done kissing Bailey. Coach, who usually has the demeanor of a bear with a sore paw, looks like a proud father. He and I exchange fist bumps and the man is even sporting a broad smile.

The Golden Stars have had other players drafted into the NHL, but never as the number one pick. Levi’s selection is a real gold star—pun intended—for Coach and for Arcadia University. Joey and I are both juniors. Hopefully, we’ll have our turn at getting a professional contract next year, although it’s a long shot for me. Thus, I need to focus on getting my MBA and not just skate through my classes.

Once the hubbub settles down over Levi’s number one draft pick, I nod towards my destination and say, “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck with the Ice Queen,” Joey replies. As I saunter off, he adds “You’ll need it!”

I take a few calming breaths, mentally preparing my eloquent introduction speech as I walk casually to the other side of the room. Mia glances up as I approach, her striking blue eyes hit me like a sucker punch to the gut. My advance becomes awkward and clumsy. I trip over the edge of the rug that I’ve walked across a hundred times before. Righting myself after the stumble, I plaster on a smile and saunter up beside her.

“What’s up?” blurts from my lips, like a gawky teenager.

Her brows draw together. “I beg your pardon?” she says.

Berating myself for that cringe-worthy opening, I say, “I’m Otto, Levi’s housemate. I couldn’t help but notice you from across the room. Bold move, wearing that suit to a party bursting with hockey players and their friends and family.” Open mouth, insert foot. My statement sounds like a criticism and certainly not the compliment I intended.

“Really? You came all the way over here to tell me that?” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. Her icy scowl makes my brain short circuit and I start to ramble.

“Er, you look very nice in the suit. Umm...black is your color,” I say, gesturing wildly towards her outfit. “It takes guts to wear that when everyone else is sporting jerseys and jeans.” Unfortunately, the wrong words keep tumbling from my lips, each one more and more humiliating, causing me to dig a deeper and deeper hole of embarrassment.

“That didn’t come out right, let me rephrase.” I gesture as if swatting a gnat, and a nervous cackle escapes, making me sound deranged. “Your beauty is only surpassed by your intelligence...I mean anyone who’s attending law school has to have a brain, right?” Her expression turns even frostier. I panic, the clock is ticking down the final seconds in the third period and I’ve only got one more shot on goal.

Rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet, I lean closer towards her, gaze into her eyes, and try to plead temporary insanity. “Please ignore my diarrhea of the mouth. Obviously, my brain has escaped my body.”

She cringes and takes a step back, not a positive sign, but I plow on. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out sometime. Maybe go bowling and grab a bite to eat afterwards. Those all-you-can-eat buffets provide a great value for the money.” When she arches an eyebrow, I add, “Pizza is also a delicious option. Bring on the pepperoni and hot peppers!”

Where these lame-sounding date ideas came from, I do not know. It’s as if I’ve reverted to my teenage self. Actually, my teenage self was more articulate than this.

“I don’t believe we have anything in common,” she says through clinched teeth. “Chucking a heavy object down a lane and wearing rented shoes is not my cup of tea.” Her upturned nose and obvious disdain for rented shoes leaves no doubt as to how far off the mark my proposed date is.

What’s wrong with me? Mia looks like a white tablecloth and strolling violins fine dining kind of woman. She’s probably never even been to a bowling alley.

Scrambling to regroup, I add in a magnanimous tone, “Pick any sporting activity of your choice. Axe throwing, miniature golf, ping pong...” My spontaneous list of suggestions doesn’t go over well. Her eyes shoot ice at me, a look that could instantly freeze hot coals. “Or we could just go out for coffee,” I squeak in a last-ditch effort to salvage this embarrassing first encounter.

“No thank you,” she says, then starts to walk away.

I reach my hand out, stalling her progress. “I know I sound like I’m unable to form a coherent thought,” I say. “It’s because of all those hits to the head!” I add, trying to make a joke. When her icy expression doesn’t thaw one degree, I add, “Mia, will you please reconsider? I’d love to get to know you and prove that I’m not an idiot.” I hold my breath while tossing her a flirty grin. If I can’t win her over with my communication skills, maybe I can win her over with my good looks.

She looks straight at me for a moment, as if she’s considering my plea, but then her eyes narrow. “Let me make myself perfectly clear,” she begins, jabbing a finger in my face for emphasis. “I will not reconsider. Not in a million years,” she marches off muttering something about hockey players under her breath. Her hips sway, rocking that tight skirt back and forth, an elegant swan mingling with a flock of pigeons.

My mouth drops and my heart sinks, knowing that I blew my one and only chance big time. Tucking my tail between my legs, I scramble off to the kitchen to hide out and lick my wounds.

“What happened between you and Mia?” Levi asks when he wanders into the kitchen, several minutes later.

I grimace, then take a sip from my Starbucks caramel macchiato—I’m addicted to this stuff. “She didn’t like my suggestion that we go out to dinner sometime.”

“Where’d you invite her to go? An all-you-can-eat buffet?” Levi says with a chuckle.

I frown when he hits the nail on the head. I guess anyone but me and my addled brain can see that Mia isn’t an all-you-can-eat buffet gal. Telling a partial truth, I say, “I suggested bowling followed by pizza.”

Levi barks out a laugh. “Seriously, Otto. Does she look like a bowling kind of girl?”

“In retrospect, I guess not,” I say in a defeated tone, my shoulders slumping. How I managed to suggest the worst possible date scenarios, I’ll never know.

“Bailey and I can try to play matchmaker, if you want us to,” Levi says, throwing me an encouraging bone.

I shrug. “No need, Mia doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

And I doubt she ever will.