Chapter 4 Naomi
Chapter four
Naomi
Well, damn.
The chalet doesn’t just sit on the mountain; it owns it. Timber beams, stacked stone, wide stretches of dark glass… it looks like a private luxury resort.
I ease the SUV into their driveway and kill the engine.
For a second I stay there, hands on the wheel, checking my reflection in the rearview mirror to make sure I look presentable. "Okay," I murmur. "Let's get ready for a fight."
I grab my handbag from the passenger seat and step out. Cold immediately bites at my face, my breath fogging in front of me as I crunch over the stone path toward the front door.
I press the doorbell.
Somewhere inside, a chime echoes.
I wait. Count to fifteen.
Nothing.
I press it again, longer this time. The same chime, the same silence after.
My watch says 4:00 p.m. on the dot. They know I’m coming. Mia texted. These alphas might be many things, but ill-informed shouldn't be one of them.
Okay, I didn’t fly across the country to end up ghosted and frozen.
I step off the front stoop and follow the shoveled path that curves along the side of the house.
Through the trees, I catch glimpses of glass…
a breezeway connecting the chalet to another structure.
The path gives way to packed snow where the shovel work got lazy, and I pick my way carefully until a low building comes into view.
It has an arched roof and dark wood siding.
The rink.
I move closer, hugging the exterior wall, looking for a way to see inside. My boots crunch softly in the snow, and after a moment, I hear the faint scrape of blades on ice.
I finally find a window, and peer through.
On the other side, three players carve across the ice, passing a puck between them. The tallest, 71 on his jersey, has broad shoulders, dark hair, and a frame that could put someone straight through the boards.
That must be Silas Reed. Captain. Center.
He threads a pass across the ice to 19, who's lighter on his skates and with golden hair. That looks like Felix Leroy. Left wing. Showoff, if the scouting notes are to be believed.
Felix flicks the puck to 44, Liam Quijada. Right wing. His turn at the blue line sends up a shower of ice crystals that sparkle under the rink lights.
They reset, then explode into motion, rushing down the ice in perfect sync. Silas controls the play, reading his linemates. He sends a crisp pass to Felix, who catches it smoothly and feeds it to Liam without looking.
Liam one-times it back to Silas. He winds up. Shoots.
Top corner, score.
Nice shot.
Felix throws his arms up, skating backward, grin flashing as he chirps at Liam. Liam says something back that makes Felix shove his shoulder, laughing. Silas is already resetting the drill, focused.
Damn, they really looked like they shared a brain there.
I should knock. Announce myself.
Instead, I stand there a moment longer, watching Felix catch a pass behind his back, watching Liam stop on a dime, watching Silas cut a hard line across the neutral zone…
Right before his gray-blue eyes lock on mine through the glass.
He stops dead, the edge of his blade scraping a harsh line in the ice.
Felix follows his line of sight. Liam, too. Three sets of eyes on me now, and I feel like I’ve wandered into a predator enclosure.
Right then. Looks like I'm busted.
I lift my hand and knock, knuckles smarting against the cold pane, then give a small, businesslike wave.
Silas says something I can’t hear. Felix points toward the far end of the building.
I make my way along the wall and find a door… which is heavier than it looks. I brace my boots in the snow, tighten my grip, and push.
It gives suddenly, and I stumble half a step forward into the rink, my shoulder bumping something hard.
Silas.
His hands shoot out automatically, gripping my upper arms to steady me. The contact is brief, but enough for an electric prickle to arc down my spine.
His eyes flick down to where my fingers are still wrapped around the handle, then back up to my face.
He pulls the door open the rest of the way, and the other two glide up behind him like bouncers.
Up close, they're even more imposing. They're all well over six feet, and the skates make it worse.
I'm craning my neck just to meet their eyes.
“Can I help you?” Silas finally asks, voice low, rough, and about ten degrees colder than the ice behind him.
I roll my shoulders back, finding my balance again, and offer a smile that has won me plenty of hostile witnesses.
“Naomi Quinn,” I say. “I work with Mia. We have a four o’clock meeting about your contract situation.”
He looks at my extended hand like I’m offering him a lawsuit.
Great start.
“The lawyer,” he says.
“That’s one of my job titles, yes.” I let my hand fall, unfazed, and keep his gaze. “I also answer to Naomi, or Ms. Quinn if you’re feeling formal.”
Felix's mouth twitches, a dimple flashing and disappearing just as fast. Liam's expression stays neutral, but his gaze takes a slow, deliberate trip from my boots to my face, assessing, cataloguing.
“Weather’s turning,” Silas says. “Roads ice fast up here. You should head back before it gets bad. We’ll reschedule.” He starts to angle the door closed with his shoulder.
Nope.
I tighten my grip on the handle and throw my weight into it. The door jerks back open a few inches, enough that he steps back, his brows ticking up a fraction. Look at that. I moved a professional hockey player. Sort of.
“Don't worry about the weather. The forecast’s clear for the next three days,” I say evenly. “We have plenty of time to talk things through and find a resolution that works for everyone.”
“Resolution.” He gives a humorless little laugh. “Right.”
“Unless you prefer ‘legally binding agreement you already signed.’ That one’s less catchy, but very accurate.”
Felix makes a small choking sound that might be a smothered laugh. Liam’s mouth tightens, just a hair.
“We’re in the middle of practice,” Silas says. “Come back later.”
"I flew over a thousand miles and drove up your mountain without GPS," I reply, voice still pleasant. "The least you can do is let me inside before I turn into an icicle. I promise I'll wait quietly while you finish."
I angle my body slightly, letting my gaze slide past his shoulder, deliberately taking in the rink.
"I won't get in the way of your… whatever drill that is."
“Three-on-none passing,” Felix supplies automatically.
Silas shoots him a look.
Felix lifts his hands in surrender, dimple back.
He steps forward then, past Silas’s shoulder, skates clicking on the rubber mat. The surrounding air feels lighter somehow.
“I’m Felix,” he says, offering his hand, breaking the territorial standoff vibe of the moment.
His palm is warm, his grip firm, and his hazel eyes hold mine a beat too long.
“Naomi,” I answer, feeling a sudden wave of warmth going through me.
“I know.” He tips his chin toward the interior. “Chalet’s through there. See these double doors?” He gestures with his stick toward the far side of the rink. “Second door gets you to the glass breezeway and the house. First one’s the locker room. You don’t want that one.”
The way he says it tells me he'd be more than happy to show me inside that room…
“Noted,” I say dryly.
“Help yourself to coffee if there’s any left,” he adds, stepping backward a few inches, already turning back to the ice. “We’ll be done in… twenty?”
Silas doesn’t confirm that, but he also doesn’t try to close the door again.
The door swings wider, letting more of the cold in. I step over the threshold, boots thudding on the rubber mat, and Liam shuts the door gently behind me.
For a moment I just stand there in the little entry space, handbag hanging from my hand, heart beating a little too fast.
Then, I start toward the double door, looking around me as I walk.
Hooks line one wall, jackets, and practice jerseys hanging in a row.
A couple of helmets sit on a low wooden bench, a pair of spare skates tucked underneath.
The air smells like cold metal, faint disinfectant, and the ghost of sweat.
When I reach the doors, I pause and glance back through the plexiglass barrier at the ice, a few feet further.
They’re moving again.
But it’s different now.
The passes still connect and the shots still hit their marks, yet some invisible thread is missing. Whatever rhythm they had before I knocked has frozen over.
Interesting. Seems like I made an impression.