Nils (Breakaway Hockey Book 3)

Chapter One

Only a hundred more miles to Atlanta, Georgia—my destination—and that’s when the rain begins. And by rain, I mean a deluge.

Great.

Flipping the wipers on in my silver Jaguar XF, a generous gift from my professional hockey player brother, Arden, I mutter, “This sucks.”

I’m not a fan of driving in the rain on the interstate, especially when it’s dark out. I had a bad experience once when I was driving in a storm and started to spin out. I regained control before anything really bad happened, but it’s still something I don’t like to think about.

This rain, though, brings it to the forefront of my thoughts, and, swallowing hard as I try to calm my racing heart, I slow down to below the speed limit.

Yeah, that’s better.

But really, I think it’s time to pull over.

Focusing solely now on getting off the road to wait out what is turning into a wicked thunderstorm, I flip on the blinker, ease my car over into the far-right lane, and take the next exit.

I’m lucky I’m just outside of Chattanooga, Tennessee, as I’ve been passing exit after exit. That’s why it was easy to just take this one. If this storm had blown up in northern Georgia, exits would have been few and far between. I probably would have been forced to stay on the highway for a while.

Ugh!

Shuddering at that ominous thought, I drive down the exit lane and slow to a stop.

The traffic light swinging in the wind is red, so I have a minute to consider my options.

Okay, so there’s a big gas station/convenience store located directly across the street. And there’s a hotel on my left.

Let’s see…

Well, I’m good on gas and snacks, and, since this appears to be only a passing storm, I won’t be checking in anywhere for the night.

The hotel is out, but there’s always food. I can easily grab a bite to eat at one of the many restaurants I see listed on the sign to my right. And—bonus!—I may be able to catch some of Arden’s first game of the season.

My brother plays for the Atlanta Thunder, and their matchup tonight is against the Tampa Bay Lightning. It’s the first game of the season for both teams and is being broadcast nationally. I tried to tune it in earlier on the car stereo, but all of the local stations were only playing music. And unfortunately, I let my Sirius XM subscription lapse, so the NHL channel was not an option.

I’m still disappointed about that, as it should be a good game. The Lightning are the team that knocked the Thunder out of the first round of the playoffs this past spring.

Speaking of thunder and lightning, I hear an ominous rumble gathering steam. That sound becomes more like a damn freight train closing in as the sky around me lights up.

I better find a place to stop…and fast.

The restaurants listed on the sign appear to be mainly fast-food joints. But as I squint to see through the rain that’s really pounding down now on my windshield, despite the wipers being on high, I spy a small sports bar tucked away behind the far side of the gas station, the one just across the street.

Perfect.

The light finally turns green, and I drive straight ahead to my destination. Of course, I hit a giant puddle along the way that sprays the sides of the car.

Yeah, didn’t see that one.

Slowing down, I head into the sports bar parking lot.

I’m pumped when I notice there’s a space right in front of the building, as the wooden overhang on the roof will shelter me from the rain. The parking lot is not exactly busy and bustling with people clamoring for places to park, but you bet your ass I pull into that open space so fast it’s not even funny.

The rain is still pouring down furiously as I turn off the car. I have an umbrella in the trunk, but my suitcases are piled high on top of it. In the time it would take me to dig it out, I’m sure I’d get soaked.

May as well just hop out and sprint the few feet to get under the overhang.

That’s what I do, but I still get a little wet. Good thing I have on a short trench coat over my jeans and navy blue boatneck top, as all in all I’m not too bad off.

Combing my fingers through my slightly damp, long raven-black hair, I blow out a breath and head for the entrance.

When I walk in, my eyes are immediately drawn to two big-screen TVs up on the wall behind the bar. Both are tuned in to the Thunder-Lightning game.

I smile.

I’ve chosen wisely.

I’ll get to see some of my brother’s game, after all.

I head to the bar and pull out a stool. The bartender, a good-looking guy with wide shoulders and caramel-colored hair, who appears to be around my age—twenty-three—strides over.

Wiping down the bar in front of me with a rag as I take a seat, he asks in a low drawl, “What can I get you, sweetheart?”

Okay, I know he’s just trying to be nice and do his job, which I totally understand because, up until recently, I was waitressing at Applebee’s all summer long while preparing to start law school.

Still, I’m not big on guys I don’t know addressing me with terms of endearment.

I’d rather he just use my name, so I tell him, “Hey, I don’t mean to be a jerk, but my name is Ellie, not sweetheart.”

I smile so he knows this is nothing against him personally.

I think he gets it, as he raises his hands in a placating manner and says, “I’m sorry, miss. Er, I mean Ellie. I meant no offense.”

“None taken,” I assure him. “It’s just a pet peeve of mine. But now that that’s out of the way…” I let out a long sigh. “As for what you can get me, I’ll have an iced tea and a menu, please.”

Reaching under the bar, he slips out a glossy menu and, as he hands it to me, asks, “Would you like sweet tea or a Long Island iced tea?”

Wincing, as I’m really not trying to be difficult, but I think I’m coming off as such, I say, “Definitely nothing with alcohol. I have a long drive ahead of me still. Tea sounds good, but do you have any that’s unsweetened?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, we only keep the sweetened stuff on hand. Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” I say. “Just go ahead and give me that.”

Rapping the bar once, he says, “You got it. One sweet tea coming up.”

“Thanks,” I murmur as he walks away.

Glancing up at the TV above the bar, I check out the game. The second period has just ended, and the score is 2-1.

That’s good.

We have the lead.

Since it’s intermission, I look away from the TV and down at the menu.

Apart from the few energy bars I had stowed away in my car for this trip, I haven’t eaten anything since I left Chicago early this morning. To say I’m famished would be an understatement.

Unfortunately, food was the last thing on my mind for most of this drive. I’ve had plenty of other things to occupy my thoughts. But now that I’m perusing the selections on the menu—just look at the accompanying mouthwatering photos!—my stomach starts rumbling.

When the bartender returns with my glass of sweet tea, he asks me what I’d like to order.

Laughing, I say, “Can I have one of everything? It all looks so good.”

That gets him to smile. “Hungry, are we?”

I nod vigorously. “Very. But in all seriousness, I’ll go with a cheeseburger and fries.”

He jots my order down on a notepad, and then asks, “Anything else? Our wings are really good. Nice and spicy. They’re big too. They’ll fill you up.”

“No, thanks.” I shake my head. “I do like wings with a kick, but the burger and fries should be enough.”

Nodding, he walks away.

And now I wish he’d come back.

Or that the third period of the game would start.

Because all of those things that were weighing on my mind earlier are rushing back as fast as the rain is pounding down on the metal roof above us.

Things like…

I can’t believe I dropped out of law school only one week into the fall semester.

Okay, in my defense, I did take a deferment, but still, I’m officially gone from the University of Chicago. At least, for now.

I’m actually gone from the whole city, seeing as I sublet my little furnished apartment for the remaining term of my lease.

So yeah, there’s no going back to Chicago.

I knew I certainly was not going home to Toronto with my tail between my legs to stay with my parents. I told my brother, Arden, that, and because he knows where I’m at in my life—namely confused and unsure of what I want to do next—he generously offered for me to come to Atlanta and stay with him for a while in order to sort things out.

He’s kind of an awesome brother like that, which is good since he’s my only sibling.

I told him that I’m fine with the Atlanta part, as I could use a change of scenery, but I absolutely will not be staying at his house.

His girlfriend, Willow, just moved in recently, and I don’t want to be that annoying third wheel, throwing a wrench into their new life together.

So yeah, no, I’m fine with living at one of those extended stay hotels, or something like that.

I told Arden how I felt, but he’s not thrilled with my decision. Too bad, it is what it is. I am not bending on the accommodations situation.

Hell, I don’t even know how long I want to stay in Atlanta. I guess it all depends on how things go. That would include my fun, throw-caution-to-the-wind little “side project.”

Thinking about that project and who it involves makes me smile.

It also gives me a little thrill.

But there’s no time to think about that now, as my burger and fries just arrived.

“Thanks,” I tell the bartender as he sets the plate in front of me. “This looks delicious.”

It really does too. The burger is juicy and huge, and the fries appear to be fresh cut ones.

“Enjoy,” he says as he lifts a pitcher of sweet tea from behind the bar. “Would you like a refill on your drink, Ellie?”

Smiling, I check out his name tag, which I should have done earlier. “Sure, Jeff.”

Chuckling and shaking his head, he refills my drink.

I thank him again, and he walks down along the bar to tend to other customers.

Taking a big bite out of my burger, which is freaking awesome, I set it back down on the plate and swipe my mouth with a paper napkin.

Looking up at the TV, I see the third period of the game is just getting underway.

The camera pans to the Thunder bench, and, hey, there’s my brother. Seeing him, even if it is only on the TV, makes me smile.

I’m excited to see him again in person.

But Arden isn’t who I’m really looking for. No, it’s the guy seated on the bench next to him—his teammate Nils Sten—who has captured my full attention.

Okay, I must confess—there’s another reason why I really wanted to see this game. Arden can never know this, since they’re not only teammates but best buds, but Nils is my secret crush.

He has been for a while, ever since I saw an interview with him, sans shirt, last season. He was all hot and sweaty, and I just kept imagining what it would feel like to run my hands down his smooth, hard chest and sculpted abs.

Oh, my!

Afterward, I watched tons more interviews with Nils. I also looked up articles. The good news is, at least for me, I know for sure he’s not married, nor does he have a girlfriend.

It was okay to fantasize even more.

And fantasize I did.

My crush grew stronger, and that’s how Nils became my secret “side project” for when I get to Atlanta.

That’s right—I’m going to “have” that man in some way, shape, or form, even if it’s only a onetime hookup.

I deserve this little bit of carefree fun. I’ve been leading such a serious life for so long, working my ass off all through college these past four years, getting straight A’s, making the Dean’s List and the Honors Society. Hell, I even worked a part-time job each and every summer.

My list of accomplishments could go on and on. That’s why I was quickly accepted to one of the country’s top law schools.

But then I realized I’m not sure if law is what I want to study…or if Chicago is really where I wanted to be.

I just don’t know what I want to do. Go back to law school or do something else entirely?

I have no clue.

The only thing I do know for certain is that I freaking want Nils!

He’s gorgeous, he’s hot, he’s tall, and he’s made of freaking muscle. I love his wild, untamed dark blond hair, and the way he flips it back out of his face before he puts on his helmet.

Don’t even get me started on his stunning green eyes. They’re truly the color of emeralds.

Gah, kill me now.

I want to get lost in those eyes in person, while Nils does unspeakable things to me.

Oh, and the sinful things I’ll do to him in return…

Sighing as I pop a fry into my mouth, I nod and assure myself that in this, I will win.

And I will, as Elena “Ellie” Troy always gets what she wants.

There’s only one thing, a caveat, if you will—Arden can never know what I’m up to.