Chapter 17 Ren
REN
Henrik looks like he’s about ready to grab his sticks down off the wall and beat the shit out of somebody. Specifically, whoever Darby’s ex is.
Hell yeah, I’m ready to ride. Count me in.
I don’t say it out loud, but he sees my answer burning in my gaze and gives me a nod. “I was thinking we might show Darby the Ice tonight.”
Stunned, I can only stare back at him.
I’d come over fully prepared to cancel our little show tonight, even though we always play on Friday evenings.
No way in hell would he want to give me a chance to showcase anything that might distract Darby from him.
Rightfully so, man. I’d already sworn off anything that might interfere with their developing relationship.
Last night, I’d even convinced myself I’d move back to Minnesota when they got married. Because no way in hell would I be able to survive on the outskirts, watching them fall more and more in love. Knowing it wasn’t for me.
That kind of love isn’t in the cards. I accepted it long ago, or so I thought. Though lying awake, tossing and turning and burning up with all the pent-up desire one little glimpse of them stoked…
“What’s the ice?” Darby asks.
I don’t answer, not sure how much he’ll be willing to share.
“It started as a practice rink, but it morphed into something else,” Henrik says. “It’ll be easier to show you. Are you up for that, Ren?”
The waffles have sucked all the moisture out of my mouth, turning it into the Sahara. I take a long drink of water, giving myself time to come up with a response. “Whatever you want, Zon.”
“Then we’ll do the show like normal.”
Buzzing fills my brain. Not questions or thoughts, exactly. Just nervous tension. Static. The crackle of my resolve going up in a blazing inferno.
Just last night, I swore to stay far away from her. Now he’s inviting me to showcase exactly what we do. Even knowing it’ll put me in the spotlight. I can’t do the show without the other guys, but the Ice is mine.
My creation. My second chance.
Our secret.
Of course. He’s got to let her in on the secret if she’s going to be around for the long haul. Damn. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.
“Maybe we should cancel it for a couple of weeks,” I say.
He growls with a belligerent look that makes me stiffen in surprise. “Now why the fuck would we do that?”
Bewildered, she looks from him to me and back. She’s picking up on the undercurrent but isn’t sure what to make of it. “Is there a problem?”
“No problem, babe. Ren’s just shy.”
Now she’s definitely suspicious. He could use a lot of disparaging words to describe me that would absolutely be appropriate, but shy isn’t one of them.
Why is he doing this? It’s a risk I’m not willing to take. If I mess this up for him, I’ll never forgive myself. But I can’t just come out and ask him in front of her without potentially making the situation worse.
He sets a cup of coffee in front of me in the usual cup he gives me whenever I’m here. “‘In perfect quiet on the ice, I know truth in the silence.’”
“That’s beautiful.” Her head tips to the side. “It sounds like a poem.”
“It’s a song,” Henrik says.
My heart pounds so hard I can’t hear anything but blood rushing through my veins.
My song.
“We’ll play it for you tonight.”
“I can’t wait to hear it. Who’s it by?”
She doesn’t get it, and he doesn’t correct her. Instead, he just grins at me. “Ice Vessel.”
“I don’t think I’ve heard of them.”
“They’re not very well known, but it’s one of my favorite songs.”
Now he’s just tormenting me on purpose. Baiting me. Hoping I’ll break the ice. Ironic, given the theme of the song.
She looks over at me. “Is that the same group you were telling me about?”
Now it’s Henrik’s turn to look like I caught him in the nuts with my stick. “Yeah. One of their songs was playing on Big Bertha when I picked her up last night.”
“Cool. I look forward to hearing more.” She slides down off her stool and picks up her plate, starting to move around the island toward the dishwasher.
The big guy glides over in front of the appliance, blocking her while firmly taking the plate out of her hands. “I got the dishes, babe. Go call your friend.”
“But you cooked. The least I can do is help with the cleanup.”
He shrugged. “I cook all the time for the guys. Besides, Ren’ll help, and Lee’ll be here shortly. That’s why I cooked so much.”
“Are you sure? I feel like a jerk showing up unannounced, eating all your food, and then not helping with at least the dishes.”
His eyes smolder as he tucks her hair back behind her ear. “You’re my guest, and I’m honored to have you stay with me.” Forever.
He doesn’t say the last word out loud, but it’s written on his face.
The way he stands, towering over her but poised, agile, ready to leap into action if he can figure out what she needs first. The gentle way he brushes her cheek with the back of his hand, his eyes lingering on her backside as she walks into the living room.
Barely, I resist the urge to spin around in the stool so I can get a good look too. I bet her fine ass looks incredible in those jeans.
But she belongs to the Mighty Zon. If he caught me staring at his woman like that, he’d be feeding Skadi bites of my junk.
“Too bad.” He turns around to drop her plate into the dishwasher. “You missed a mighty fine view.”
DARBY
I don’t want to be rude, but until I know what’s going on with Michael, I’d rather Henrik not hear any juicy details. So I run back upstairs to his bedroom, which is even ruder, I know. Let me commandeer the man’s private space to talk about my ex. Sitting on the bed he fucked me in last night.
Skadi hops up beside me, draping herself over my lap as if she already knows I need moral support.
She’s not formally trained as an emotional support animal, but anytime I get stressed, she’s extra affectionate.
The first few painful weeks after our separation, she barely ever left my lap, leaning her sixty-five pounds on my chest, or pressing against me in bed.
The extra pressure helped reduce my anxiety—and gave us both bonus cuddles.
I’m not sure I’d have made it through the nastiness of the divorce and closure of my business without her. Which is exactly why Michael tried so hard to take her from me. He couldn’t stand to let me have anything of my own still standing after our split.
Kirstin answers on the first ring. “Tell me everything.”
“I thought you had news for me,” I protest, laughing.
“I do, but I want the juicy gossip first.”
I’d been vague in my text to her yesterday—but implied there was a man so she’d know to be alert. “How do you know it’s juicy?”
“I can hear the blush in your voice.”
It’s that obvious? “Well, let’s just say we hit it off.”
She squeals. “Tell me! What does he look like? Who is he?”
“He looks like a lumberjack and used to play hockey.” I leave out the professional part to protect him from her Google searches. “He’s gruff and mean on the outside but all cinnamon roll on the inside.”
“Swoon. I’m so happy for you. He sounds perfect.”
“I just met him,” I protest, though giddiness spreads through me at her approval. She’d never liked Michael. Too bad we’d become friends only after the move to Denver and not before I married him.
“I’ve been trying to set you up for months, and you wouldn’t even meet anyone. So for you to hit it off with this guy so quickly is a miracle.”
Yeah. I went into shut-down protection mode. I didn’t want anyone to get close enough to hurt me again.
“So what does this mean for your trip? Are you still going out to Vegas?”
“I’m sort of playing it by ear.” I don’t tell her he offered—demanded—to go with me. That seems too much to admit, even to my friend. “So what’s this pressing news you have?”
She sighs heavily. “I was talking to my neighbor this morning, and she mentioned a new bakery that opened a few weeks ago. I didn’t think much of it until she told me the name.” She hesitates and I find myself holding my breath. “It’s called Darby’s Too.”
My jaws clenches so hard my teeth ache.
Rage scorches through me, but it’s injustice choking me. The complete sense of unfairness. First, he forced me to close the business so he could have his tidy sum in the divorce…
And now he stole my name and opened another bakery?
“I had to go by and see for myself. I hoped it was someone who’d admired your bakery and didn’t mean any harm. But it’s definitely him. I didn’t go inside but I saw him behind the cash register.”
Skadi whines and licks my face. Only then do I realize I’m crying. Angry at myself, I swipe away the useless tears. I swore I wasn’t going to let him make me cry ever again.
“I’m so sorry, hon. Is there anything I can do?”
“Do you know how to hire a hit man?”
She laughs. “No, but I bet my cousin from Florida would love to burn it down. He’s always been a fire bug.”
My shoulders slump and I lean into Skadi, my fingers deep in her fur. The blazing inferno of rage has already blasted through me. There isn’t much fuel left to burn.
No, that’s not true. I have new fragile sprouts that weren’t touched by the flames.
A burly lumberjack who has the power to calm my mind instantly with a gentle squeeze of his fingers on my nape.
A big, broad chest to bury my face against. A friend who’s been my constant rock, even when she has to be the bearer of bad news.
Or maybe I just don’t care about Michael any longer. The only part of the business he’d actually been good at was schmoozing the customers. But he hadn’t even been able to run the cash register without messing up.
“You said he was running the cash register? RIP. He never could make change. The till was always short when he tried to help.”
“He doesn’t have your recipes, either. Right?”
“That’s right. He wanted cash out of the business, but he didn’t give a damn about the process documents or recipe books themselves. Thank god. Grandma’d be rolling in her grave if he had her Sunshine Muffin or Harvest Spice Loaf recipes.”
“So he’s trying to capitalize on your name and success of the original bakery without having any of the heart and soul that made it so successful. He’s doomed to failure.”
“He never understood what the bakery meant to me. It wasn’t just throwing some ingredients together and selling baked goods, you know? It was so much more than that.”
Which is why it hurt to lose it all.
“I know, hon. But he’s going to find out. He can’t possibly be successful without you. People who loved your bakery are going to roast him alive.”
“I can’t wait to read the Google reviews.”
“Ha, me too. I’ll keep an eye on them for you and start sending screenshots of all the negative reviews.”
“Deal.”
Her tone turns sly. “In exchange, I want all the deets about this sexy lumberjack hockey dude.”
“No deal.” Though I’m laughing, exactly as she intends. “Wait until I tell you about all his equally sexy friends.”
“Hmmm, oh really? Well, too bad for them, because I’m already taken.”
A twinge of something twists in my gut. It takes me a second to recognize it.
Jealousy. Because my friend might be interested in Henrik’s friends? No way.
Followed quickly by relief, because she’s very happily married. I catered her reception. That’s how we first became friends.
I’ve told her about everything in my life ever since. Though I’m not quite ready to tell her exactly what Henrik proposed. Not when I can’t wrap my own head around it.
“If things turn south with this guy and you need some backup, let me know. One of Cal’s friends works for the highway patrol. We’ll get a posse together to come rescue you.”
“I’m good. Skadi likes him so I think we’re pretty safe.”
Though she liked Michael in the beginning too. To be fair, she was only a puppy when we bought her from the breeder. She certainly figured out his true colors way faster than me.
“Text me updates if you decide to head to Vegas. Safety first.”
“I will,” I promise. “Talk to you later.”
“Bye.”
I head into the bathroom to freshen up a little. My nose is stuffy, but my eyes aren’t too bloodshot. I wasn’t as torn up as I would’ve been a year ago. Now, I can smile and wait with anticipation.
Karma’s going to bite him in the ass, and I have front-row tickets.
Feeling a little better, my gaze lingers on my reflection. My anticipatory grin slips.
Henrik’s great. Too great. He can’t be real.
“Wanna bet, babe?” I can almost hear his voice in my head. Feel his fingers squeezing my nape, tipping my head back so he could fake-glare into my eyes.
“What about your friend?” I ask silently, shaking my head. Every time I turn around, Ren’s here. Looking at me. To his credit, not openly flirting, but sometimes I accidentally catch his gaze, and I feel the spark of possibilities. What ifs.
What if Henrik did fuck me on the table last night? In front of his friends?
What if Ren just so casually… kissed me at the same time?
My cheeks blaze with heat. I splash more cool water on my face, trying to calm down my extremely over-reactive imagination.
Henrik has to be joking despite his denials. A super possessive, gruff, take-no-shit guy like him would never consider such a thing. Though I can’t help but remember what he said to Leland last night too. “Unless you want it to be our woman? I’m game.”
Now my what ifs turn grim.
What if I’m the one to fuck this up—by hurting him? I could ignore the subtle attraction to Ren for a while, but if Henrik and I try to make a relationship, and his friend’s here all the fucking time…
I’d slip. Someday.
I don’t want to hurt either of them. The longer I stay… the more likely it is someone’s going to be hurt. Badly.
So stick to the plan. Enjoy a couple of great days with Henrik, and then I’ll get back on the road to Vegas.
I have no intention of getting involved with any of the other guys. Especially Ren.