10. Ryan
10
RYAN
I hated the way my face heated so easily around her. Damn being pale as fuck. Normally, it just meant turning bright red after a hard skate. With her, it meant I blushed like a schoolgirl too damn often.
But, god, why did holding her feel so fucking good?
She was shit-talking my clothes and calling me a nerd, and all I could concentrate on was how she smelled. Sweet and floral but without the heavy perfume I’d almost expected from someone who wore so much makeup. She smelled like she had that night. It overrode all the good reasons I had to release her and back away.
“I, uh… Long Island? Did we meet on Long Island?” I said at last in a desperate attempt to draw some kind of line between us.
She flinched. “Oh, uh, no. No, that’s my mistake. I just meant you don’t seem to own hair gel.”
“I feel attacked.” I managed a half-smile.
She squeezed my arms. “Then our second interview can be a shopping trip. You should get some clothes that fit.”
“Nothing fits. Too big in some places, too tight in others.”
Blue eyes rolled. “Not off the rack, silly. You’re a hockey player. Go get some bespoke shit.”
“I’ll consider it.”
Nica wet her lips. “Ryan?”
“Yeah?”
“My other question?”
My cue to release her. I nodded and eased backward. Nica’s fingers slid down my arms, holding me until I was out of reach. I noticed. I also noticed how she balled her hands into fists once we had space between us.
She doesn’t want you. Nothing about this woman says green light. Certainly not the way she absolutely rejected your ass already.
“Your other question.” I pushed off in a slow skate so she could follow.
“My what? Oh. I wondered if you, like, hacked other teams to find their weaknesses?”
I laughed and shook my head. It helped take my mind off having her in my arms. “No. I focus on our team to help us improve.”
“But could you?”
“Could I what?”
“Hack another team’s… I don’t know… system?”
“A, it doesn’t really work that way. There’s not a mainframe holding each franchise’s secrets. And B… if there was, I guess I could. Maybe. Depending on the security level. But I wouldn’t really need to… shit. I don’t want this in the interview.”
She hit stop on the phone. “Off the record. Keep talking.”
I shrugged. “It’s not hard to get info on someone if you want to. There are ways that don’t require illegal moves.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Sneaky. I like it.”
“I bet you do, Nica Allison Solance.”
I laughed at her unhinged jaw. “Oh, my god. You stalked me?” she hissed.
“No. Not at all. That was an easy one to find. Felt like digging deeper would be … invasive.”
“Damn right it would. Damn , you are sneaky.”
“Swear I’m not. If I was, I’d be texting you this conversation.”
She pointed at me. “Don’t snoop, Goalie. Just ask me what you want to know. If you want my number, all you have to do is say, ‘Nica, may I please have your number?’”
I bit back a smile. “I’ll bear that in mind.”
She gazed at me, clearly waiting to see if I’d ask. When I didn’t, she rolled her eyes and skated away. Henrik barked and hurried to herd her along. Nica looked down and cooed at him, and I tensed. “Hey. Don’t talk to him unless you want him to herd you.”
“Huh? I think he heard me fine. Didn’t you, mister puppy?”
“No, herd. Corgis are bred to herd sheep and cattle. He’ll chase you if you?—”
As if on cue, Henrik sped up. He ran close beside Nica’s skates until she sped up, too. I heard her laugh at first, but then Henrik started nipping her laces. “Hey!” she cried.
“Just slow down.”
But she didn’t. Henrik saw it as a game. He ran beside her, barking. I hurried to get to them, picking up a puck along the way for distraction, but Nica was skating too fast. Henrik tugged her laces undone, and she hit the ice.
“Fuck.” I kicked it into gear to get to her.
Her phone clattered to the ground as her palms shot out to break the fall. Her knees hit and buckled so that she was flat on her stomach. “Ungh,” she groaned.
“Hen, get back,” I commanded as he scurried around, trying to lick her face. I flung the puck, and he raced for it.
Nica lifted her head when I dropped onto the ice in a lunge and then twisted to sit down. She groaned again and scowled. “How’d you make that look so smooth?”
I sat facing her on the ice. “I play hockey.”
“Ungh.” She managed to roll over and sit up.
I slid closer to grasp her wrists and examine her hands. Both were bright red with ice burn. Tiny scrapes stood out, but nothing seemed too serious.
“Does it hurt?” I asked.
“Stings like a motherfucker.”
That blunt-as-hell reply made me snort. I shook my head and blew gently on her tender skin. Since teasing seemed to be our most effective form of communication, I tried a little brevity. “I’m sorry. Should’ve been on hand to break your fall again. You’re a terrible skater, by the way. Shocked you said yes to it.”
Her impish smirk flickered, but her gaze drifted to my lips while I blew on her hands again. “I’m a very good skater,” she said at last.
“Sure, tell yourself that.”
“Piss off, Goalie.”
“Thanks a lot. Your hands are freezing.”
“No shit. They just felt up the ice.”
I laughed again and wrapped my hands around hers to warm them up. Her hands fit entirely into mine. She was small-boned, but from everything I’d seen, Nica Solance was anything but fragile.
She watched our hands. “We, uh, well. That’s nice. But if I keep sitting here, my ass is going to freeze, too.”
Wicked fire flashed through me. “Not sure I can help with that one.” I can. I absolutely would.
Before she could answer, I helped her to her feet, scooped up her phone, and guided her off the ice. We sat down side by side on the bench while Henrik lay nearby, panting like crazy.
Nica stood up and shouldered her skate bag. “I think we’re done for now.”
“I have some questions for you.”
“Not sure that’s how this works. But fine. Hit me.”
We ambled toward the exit. “You used the phrase, ‘Paris is my job.’ What does that mean?”
She explained how she’d started the profile as a goof that had gone viral. I listened, trying to imagine how strange a journey that must’ve been, and then said as much. “That must’ve been so bizarre to have your page go from a crush to a career.”
“No joke.” She laughed softly. “But it’s been fun. And it’s so much better than my old job.”
“Which was?”
“Waitress.”
I nodded and opened the door for her. In as casual and neutral a tone as possible, I asked, “Do you still crush on Quinn?”
Not that I care. Nope. Could not be less interested in who you’re interested in.
She waited until we were out on the sidewalk. “I think he’s amazing. But knowing Audrey makes him a person, not a hockey god that I see on TV. Audrey’s been awesome to me. Crushing on her husband would be creepy. Besides,” she added with a light laugh, “I get the feeling he’s not my type in real life.”
Do not ask her what her type is. Do. Not. “Would you quit doing the profile if you could?”
“Absolutely,” she whispered. “But I can’t. Not at this time.”
“Why?”
“Well, I mean, I could. But you try slinging drinks in a casino wearing a miniskirt. Then tell me if I have a lot of a choice. Run a social media page that pays, or get your ass felt up by drunk douchebags over and over for shit tips.”
“What? They don’t. Not really. I mean, security takes care of that—right?”
She rasped a humorless laugh. “You’re cute. Na?ve as hell, but cute. At the place I worked, security would stop major breaches—probably. Hopefully. But patrons who are gambling but a little too friendly? Come on, Ryan. It’s part of the job.”
“You’ve… you’ve been groped?”
Her gaze dropped to her lap. “I’m the one doing the interview, Goalie.”
It was a clear yes. Anger flared in my chest. An irrational desire to hunt down scumbags who did shit like that rashed over me. I clenched my hands on the steering wheel. “Well, if you have any names, I can hack their email and send their colleagues a bunch of weird shit that’d get them fired.”
Fuck, I loved her real laugh. She clapped a hand over her mouth at the sudden giggles that burst out of her, but it only made me grin. “And you criticize what I do online?”
“Only because it’s directly related to me.”
I put my skates in the trunk and opened the back door for Henrick. “So… what happens next? With the interview, I mean.”
“I guess we’ll schedule another meeting. Can we go shopping? Puh-leese?”
I groaned. “Fine. I’ll figure out where I should go. I’m on the road for four days starting tomorrow, so it’ll have to wait until I’m back. We can get this wrapped up then. It’ll make Audrey happy, and I’ll get you out of my hair.”
“With that mad scientist look you’ve got going, lord knows you don’t need anything else in your hair.”
I palmed my eyes, but my smile flashed as I peeked at her through my fingers. “Fuck’s sake, woman. You are hateful.”
Nica hesitated. Then, in a flurry of motion, she reached up, snatched the beanie off my head, and ran to her car. I took off after her, slow enough that she had her door open before I caught up.
“Excuse me. That’s mine.”
She jammed it onto her head and grinned up at me. “Collateral. You’ll have to see me again to get it back.”
I bent so we were eye-to-eye. “You are nothing but trouble.”
“You like it.”
“I definitely probably like it more than I should.”
Her lips parted. Mine did, too. We stared at each other. Breaths mingled. Mouths nudged closer and closer. I swallowed hard. “Fuck. I can’t.”
“We can’t,” she whispered.
Neither of us backed up. It was an endurance test unlike any skate drill or workout I’d ever known. I ached to snap the barrier and knew damn well I wasn’t going to.
At last, we both pulled back and traded a glance that agreed that we’d passed the test.
“I’ll see you soon,” she said softly.
“Yeah.”
And then, she was gone.