Chapter 4
four
Tessa
E than doesn’t sound sure of himself and I imagine that’s throwing him off as well. As much as I hate to admit it, I’ve followed his career and in pre or post-game interviews, he comes off self-assured and confident. Like most hockey players, he’s got an ego to match his abilities.
I pause and turn halfway to see his expression morph from panic to a hesitant confidence. “Don’t worry,” I say. “I’ll let you know what to do with each age group. I’ve got your back, Crunch.”
Having him wait in the hallway until he’s introduced gives me a minute to compose myself. Reminding him of a past he doesn’t seem to remember may not have been a good idea. The words just slipped out. Thank the stars I was able to hold back the rise of pain over something I thought I’d gotten over a long time ago.
Memories. This is so not what I need today. Or ever if they include Ethan Carter. He’s here for one day then he’ll be gone again. If today turns out how his coach hopes, he’ll be moving out of state and up closer to the big leagues. It never mattered to me before where he was or what he was doing. I glance at my watch. He hasn’t even been in town an hour and in my head and my stupid heart, it’s like he never left.
I liked the boy in grade school. Crushed hard on him in high school. Thought I’d let that go when he went off to college. Obviously not.
Carrying a microphone, I skate to center ice. Despite my earlier bravado, it’s been awhile since I’ve been on skates. Hopefully my cautious, not so graceful movements aren’t too noticeable. Another good reason to keep Ethan in the hallway where he can’t see me. Just in case I land on my ass.
The stands are full and the first group of kids, the youngest skaters, are waiting in the team box. I give them a wave then turn in a slow circle as the crowd grows expectantly quiet.
“Hey, everyone. Welcome to the first event of our first Krampasnacht celebration. I know you’re anxious to see the kids show off their hockey skills, but before we get started, I’d like to introduce a special guest who will spend a little time on the ice with each of the age groups.”
A low murmur of conversation begins near the hallway where I left Ethan. He’s been noticed. I let the rumble grow before extending one hand toward the home team’s ice entrance. I adopt my best ‘announcer’ voice and say, “Joining us today from the Linoma Lynx is our hometown favorite, left defenseman Ethan “Crunch” Carter.”
The cheer rises to the rink’s high rafters as he makes his way through the crowd to the ice. I watch him grin, wave, accept heavy slaps to his shoulders, then how relief fills his face as he steps away from the people and onto the ice. Acknowledging the cheers, he skates a slow circle around the rink before spiraling in to join me on center ice.
I shove the microphone in his face and after panic flashes in his eyes, he accepts it and waves to the crowd. Slowly the cheers fade and it feels like everyone, and even the building itself, are holding our breath.
“Umm, hi! I’m delighted to be back home to help celebrate this… fun day.”
Biting back a grin, I duck my head. He either doesn’t remember Krampasnacht or doesn’t want to attempt pronouncing it.
He glances toward the team box where the youngest of our skaters are bouncing on the bench, ready to explode. “Looks like the kids are anxious to get on the ice. Ready to skate, kids?”
At their affirmative shouts, a true grin finally relaxes Ethan’s expression. “Well, we don’t want to run over Ms. Tessa, do we? Let me escort her off the ice then we’ll get started.”
He hands me the mic and takes my elbow, gently sliding me toward the edge of the rink and the only empty seat available. In the penalty box. His lips twitch as he bows and indicates I should leave the ice. Smart ass.
Shouting into the amazingly quiet rink, he releases the kids who swarm toward him, many of them falling over in their excitement. Of course the mites, this youngest group, have a difficult time keeping their skates under them anyway. He slows their progress simply by lifting one hand. “Careful now. Hockey is a dangerous sport and you don’t want to end your career too early, do you?”
He's able to organize the awe-struck kids and get them skating around the rink to a rhythmic chant that slowly increases in tempo, speeding up the skaters. I’ve never seen anything like it. Then he lines them up and one of the coaches brings out a bucket of pucks. Each child is given individual instructions and a chance to shoot for a goal.
The kids are better than I expected. And from the roar of the crowd with each shot, the event is a success.
When the volunteer coach indicates the group’s time is up they complain but exit from the visitor’s side of the rink while the next group steps on the ice as the home team. Ethan’s instructions with this older group go a little deeper and he encourages subtle adaptations to the movements appropriate for the age group.
After the second group Ethan joins me in the penalty box and I hand him a water bottle. “This is fun. I was wondering…You said this is just for the younger kids?”
I nod.
“Would there be a way I could spend some time with the high school team? Hockey here looks like it’s even more important to everyone than when we were in school. I’d like to see how good the big kids are.”
I think in silence for a moment. “There is time, but we didn’t ask those kids to be here and ready to skate.”
Taking a long swig of water, he glances around the rink. “I’d bet most of them are here anyway. Can we make it happen?”
“Sure. It might cut into some of your time at the signing table.”
“No big loss there, Tessa.”
“You might be surprised. I can have the stuff here moved to the marketplace. Then you’ll only have to sign in one place.”
“Sounds good.”
I hand him the mic. “Go ahead. You’ve got until noon to spend with the kids.”
He taps the dead mic against his forehead. “No, I really do need to leave some time to greet the fans and parents here, too. They might not be planning on going shopping. There’s what, two more groups of kids?” He glances at the clock on the scoreboard and his lips press together as if working something out. “I should still be able to make it work and be off ice by eleven thirty.”
His willingness to do more than expected surprises me. I don’t need to be a stickler to my schedule. “We really don’t need to be at the marketplace until one.”
His grin is all the reward I need for cutting him some slack. He hands me the empty bottle and turns on the mic. After he taps it a couple times, the rink grows silent. “I remember how great it was to be a Wildwood Warrior. So, I’m curious. How many members of the high school team are here?”
Hands wave and shouts of “Me” circle the rink. He was right. Looks like most of them are here. Once the word that Crush Carter was in town spread, those who hadn’t planned on being here, probably changed their minds. At their age, I would have.
“Great. Once the bantam group is done, I’d like to invite the Warriors to join me on ice.”
While Ethan interacts with the next two groups of younger kids, I search the crowd. He’s here to impress and prove he can make a connection with the community. I’m sure the hockey team interested in him has someone here to judge how he’s doing. I can’t pick out anyone who might be that person. With a huff I roll my eyes at myself. Of course an observer probably wouldn’t be wearing the team’s logo. And everyone’s got their phones out taking pictures.
Finally, shouting and rowdy, the high schoolers hit the ice. Before their coach reacts, Ethan stills them with a lifted hand and a stern look. Shaking his head, he conveys disappointment.
“Guys… and girls,” he adds with a grin at the three female members of the team. “You’re not in full gear. Even if you were, messing around like that gets people hurt. That hurt could be serious enough to end your chance for a career on the ice.” He ducks his head and continues. “And you don’t want to carry the pain of seriously injuring another skater—teammate or opponent.”
My curiosity sparks. There’s a story behind that statement and it makes me wonder if it has anything to do with his nickname. But I don’t remember reading or hearing a reason for Crunch. Sportscasters just started using the moniker when talking about Ethan.
After leading the team through a skating exercise and practice shots, he has them gather the scattered pucks then draws the kids into a tight huddle on center ice. The young faces are filled with awe and happiness as they hang on his softly spoken words. This strong community interaction should go a long way to impress his new team.
For some reason that doesn’t make me as happy as I thought it would.
When Ethan sends the team in a victory lap around the rink, he moves to stand at the boards near me. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out both a Sharpie and a white paint pen. After glancing at both markers, he winks and puts the Sharpie back in his pocket.
One by one the Warriors skate up to him with a puck. As he signs each one, he offers individual praise and suggestions.
The fact he has something personal to say to each kid is impressive. Sure, there’s a lot of hero worship in the young faces. I can’t stop my frown when there’s more than simple hero worship in the smiles and subtle actions of the girls. At least two of them are definitely crushing on the handsome hockey player. One even tries flirting and inching way too close as he signs her puck.
Without realizing I’ve moved, I stand, ready to… to what? Step between them and stake a claim of my own? I don’t want to claim Ethan. Maybe I did when I was the same age as the girl. Not now. He’s just a guy. An adorably handsome guy. With a broad smile and sparkling eyes. And long, sexy fingers.
Blinking back my wayward thoughts I remind myself he’s a guy who is only here for one day. And only because he was forced so he can move up in the hockey realm. One day and he’ll be gone again.
Ethan extracts himself easily from the possibly uncomfortable situation. I suppose he’s had plenty of practice escaping determined women. The sobering thought that he might not want to escape those women eases me back to my seat in the penalty box. I’ve heard stories…
Oh my stars. Why do I even care? Too many years have passed since my inexperienced heart wanted him to like me. To pay attention to me in a good way. Not in the ways he did, spurred on by his cheerleader girlfriend. She’d been a true mean girl who kept digging her claws deeper into him.
“Tessa?” Those long fingers touch my shoulder and brush against my neck. Awareness dances just under my skin, chased by longing. This man is dangerous to my equilibrium. A tiny shift of my shoulders allows me to escape his skin against mine. I’m not sure my smile is steady and from the hitch in one of his eyebrows I know he senses my unease.
“So,” he drawls and holds up the Sharpie. “My white pen is toast. Where do I go to try and use up this marker?”
That’s it. Keep everything business. That’s why he’s here. Not to see me. Not to impress me. Not to do anything with me. Except be where I need him to be and do what I need him to do. Heat fills my cheeks when the sexual implications of my thoughts hits me. Please, let him think any extra color is from the cold.
His brown eyes sparkle at me. “Well?”
“Near the main entrance.” Around us the crowds are shifting toward the exits. “We’d better get going. Once you’re settled, I’ll grab our bags so we can get out of our skates.”
He reaches across me for his blade covers. “No rush. Will I get to sit this time?”
I don’t even attempt to stop the teasing words falling from my mouth. “Oh no. Is the big bad hockey star tired?”
His lips work to bite back a grin. “Nah, it’s just easier to write my name.” His eyes go wide. “Over and over and over.”
Ethan continues to charm the crowds when we move him to the Marketplace. The city auditorium is filled with craft booths, carts serving hot beverages, food tables, and more decorations that I imagined possible. The deep storerooms here and in the city building across the street held multiple years’ worth of holiday cheer. With all that to work with, the decorating committee outdid themselves.
I’m hoping to inventory everything as it’s returned to storage. That will make next year’s event easier. If there is a next year.
I’m amazed there was anything left to festoon the parade floats parked in one of the barns at the county fair site.
The parade. I check the weather on my phone again. The incoming storm is moving faster than predicted. Way too fast. My heart sinks and I slouch in the chair where I’m sitting in a corner of Ethan’s booth.
The line for his meet and greet has finally slowed to only occasional visitors. He turns to face me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. All’s good.” At least until I have to make the decision to cancel the parade.
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Tessa. What’s up? Maybe… uh… maybe I can do something to help.”
“Only if you can control the weather.”
“I thought the storm was supposed to hit later. I did grab a hotel room on the edge of town, just in case.”
“Smart thinking.”
“Hey, I grew up here. I know how the weather can be.”
“But if we cancel the parade you might still beat the storm out of town.” I expect him to be relieved, maybe even happy to not have to ride the Krampus float but his quiet contemplation surprises me.
My phone pings with a series of texts on the Krampus committee chat asking about the weather. Before long, the group has gathered behind Ethan’s booth although there’s really no need for discussion. We need to shut down the marketplace and cancel the parade.
“Excuse me,” Ethan says as he eases into our tight knot of conversation. “What was I supposed to do during the parade as the…” He glances at me for confirmation. “Krampus? Pretty sure I’m not expected to carry off kids in burlap sacks.”
So he was listening. “Of course not. We have little bags of candy and toys for you to toss into the crowd.”
“What else is in the parade?”
“Floats, a lot of decorated tractors. The high school band.”
“How soon do you need to shut down here?”
The committee members are leaning forward, silently following our conversation. I direct my answer to all of them. “Probably in an hour.”
Ethan shifts to stand with his hands on his hips, legs spread in a purely masculine, take charge pose that steals my breath. His grimace does nothing to mar his handsome features. “There’s lots of kids running around in here. How about I get into costume? Hand out the treats now. Do you think the band could get here to play? They could use the empty stage and I could make some sort of a grand entrance from there.”
Tentative, hopeful smiles turn toward me. My assistant taps his ever-present tablet. “The band has already gathered at the fairground. Shouldn’t be difficult to get them here. It’s a perfect solution, Tessa.”
I’ve been so involved with the success of the event, I hadn’t seen the simple solution. I give Ethan a grateful smile then turn to my assistant. “It is. Send out the news and get the band here. Everyone spread the word. If any of the vendors want to clear out now, give them a hand. Also let them know they’re welcome to leave things here until the storm clears. I’ll ask the police chief to increase their drive-by security.”
Knowing the direction we need to go and that my committee has everything under control, I pocket my phone and hold my hand out to Ethan. He glances at my face then curls his fingers around mine. I tug him toward the backstage area where thankfully we’d stored the costume.
“Come on, Krampus. Let’s get you suited up.”