Iced Out: A Rival’s Sister Hockey Romance (Heston U Hotshots Book 1)
Iced Out: A Rival’s Sister Hockey Romance – Chapter 5

It’s early on Friday when I poke my head into Reagan’s room. She’s still passed out in a cocoon of covers. Between the two of us, I’m the early riser.

“It’s almost nine.”

She groans faintly. “Unfairly early.”

“I’m going to Clocktower. Do you want coffee?”

Her sleep-mussed strawberry blonde bun pokes further out of the mound of covers as she wakes up more. “Coffee? Okay, those are the magic words.”

“Mhm. That’s what I thought. I’m on it.”

It’s about to get busy in there and I want coffee before my only class today. I push off her door frame and grab my purse from the counter in the kitchenette attached to the living area.

Our apartment is what Reagan likes to call dainty. Off-campus apartments are bigger, but neither of us can afford it. At least the two-bedroom apartment suite is larger than our shoebox dorm from freshman year. We could easily fit that room inside one of our bedrooms and still have some space left over for Reagan’s music equipment.

“Have I told you lately I love you?” she calls groggily.

“Back at you.” My phone rings right on schedule as I exit the building. “Hey, Mom. How was the appointment today?”

“Good. He’s tired, but he got through all of his PT exercises. The trainer was happy with what he got done.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m an invalid,” I hear Grandpa grumble. “Still here, you know.”

I look to the sky, mouth curved. “Can I talk to him?”

His scratchy voice comes over the line. “Hi, chicken. How’s school?”

Affection blooms in my chest at his nickname for me. “Hey Grandpa. It’s good. How are you feeling?”

“Oh, on top of the world. Like I could dance one of my mother’s jigs with her, rest her soul.”

He never loses his sense of humor, even when he’s not feeling his best. I can tell from the tightness in his voice that he’s feeling the age of his bones. He’s a stubborn man who hates that he has to rely on my parents and the rest of our family to take care of him when he spent a lifetime taking care of all of us.

“I can’t wait to see you for Christmas.” The words come out slightly strained. “I’m spending the whole break with you. We can do anything you want.”

“You don’t have to come see me, chicken. Go out with your friends.”

“No way. I want to hang out with you.”

“Ah, well, in that case turn around, Rosalie. If Maya’s coming to see me, I need to be able to walk on my own two feet again instead of hobbling around with the walker.”

“Take it easy,” I say as I reach the coffee shop. “You know you don’t have to show off for me.”

It’s busy inside with a line all the way to the door.

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” He goes quiet for a few seconds.

“We’re almost home, Maya. We should go,” Mom says.

“Okay. Love you guys. I’ll talk to you later.”

I keep my voice hushed so I don’t disturb the other customers. While I’m distracted with saying goodbye, I accidentally bump into the guy ahead of me in line.

“Excuse me,” I offer as I slide my phone into my purse.

There’s no response until I look up, coming face to face with Easton Blake in a navy blue Heston U Hockey warm up jacket and gray sweatpants. They highlight his powerful thighs and show off the impressive bulge of his—I snap my eyes up, darting my gaze around the cozy coffee shop.

Fuck me.

“Oh,” I choke out. “Sorry about that.”

The corner of his mouth kicks up. “It’s cool. You can bump into me whenever.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d like that.” I mutter it before thinking, more to myself than him.

“Oh, without a doubt.” He winks, shuffling backward when the line moves so he doesn’t have to stop talking to me.

“Aren’t you late for practice?”

“Away game.” He nods to his bulky duffel bag by the door. “I have to head to the rink to catch the bus right after this.”

I smirk. “A hockey player-free campus tonight? Score. The Landmark won’t run out of wings.”

He scoffs. “That only happened like once.”

I tick off on my fingers the times since I’ve been here the hockey team was directly responsible for eating all the wings the few times I’ve braved the sports bar. “Freshman year, late April. I’ll give you that one, since I’m guessing you won Frozen Four.”

“Damn right we did.”

“Summer semester last year, end of July,” I continue. “Then again in March.”

He chuckles, allowing me to go to the order counter first when it’s his turn. “Okay, so what I’m hearing is I owe you wings. It’s a date.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I toss over my shoulder. “Can I get a mocha latte and a pumpkin spice latte to go? Thanks.”

Easton leans around me to hand the cashier his card before I have the chance to pay, rattling off his coffee order. I miss it, stunned by him paying for my drinks.

“What are you doing?”

“Buying your coffee.” He holds his hands up at the suspicious look I give him. “Just donuts, just coffee. Still no strings.”

“Next time, I’m paying.”

He smirks. “You’ve got it, baby. You’re making me wish I didn’t have to go get on the team bus. Can I see you next weekend? We’re having a party for one of the guys on the team.”

I bite my lip to keep from smiling. “Still not saying yes.”

Easton shakes his head with a sly expression, lowering his voice to murmur near my ear so the barista giving him mooneyes doesn’t hear. “You’re going to be kicking yourself for holding out on me, baby. Once I show you what you’re missing, you’re going to wish you had it sooner. But that’s okay, it makes it more fun this way.”

I shiver, moving a few steps away. While he waits for his card back, he gives me one of his flirty once-overs I’m becoming familiar with. His eyes flick down my body with confidence, then meet mine again. The heat flaring in his gaze causes my breath to hitch as an excited pulse of warmth spreads through my stomach.

This is dangerous territory because Easton really is my type with his inviting blue eyes and the playfully cocky attitude that used to be my downfall. I was having fun last week with my dare, not expecting him to actually try to get with me. I remind myself of all my excellent reasons to not go for hockey players to keep myself from falling for his moves.

“Why are you so interested in me?” I ask once he gets the receipt for our coffees.

“Easy. I like your smile and I think we’d have fun together. I don’t give up easily when I know I like something.”

I laugh at the simplistic answer. “I’m not the type to hook up casually, so this is all pointless.” I gesture to the coffee counter. “You should really forget me. It’s not like hockey players have a lot of free time for girlfriends. Besides, I’m not sure those count as solid reasons to ask someone out. You don’t know me.”

“Yet,” he says pointedly, not put off. “I’m getting to know you.”

“Come on. What could you possibly have learned about me?”

“Plenty. You have killer dance moves and a sweet tooth.” He pulls a face and shrugs. “Shitty taste in college hockey teams. You’re a Bruins fan though, right? Please say yes.”

“Duh.” I smirk at his dramatic display of wiping his forehead and sighing in relief.

“Crisis averted. It would be so awkward if my girl didn’t cheer for me when I get signed to my dream team.”

I lift my brows and give an amused scoff. “Keep dreaming, hotshot. I’m not your girl.”

“Yet.” He winks.

Easton takes my hand to draw me over to the pickup counter. His is huge, engulfing mine with his warm callused fingers. He keeps doing stuff like that, touching me affectionately in small ways. He has conversations with his touch, whispering endearments and seductive promises.

I can’t tell if he’s just a handsy type of guy who likes a lot of physical contact or if this is another of his charm tactics.

He brushes his thumb across my skin, sending tingles spreading through me. I roll my lips between my teeth, ignoring my skipping heartbeat. I admired his big hands earlier in the week, remembering how it felt when he kept a secure grip on the back of my thigh the night he rescued me from the bar.

“Give me time because I’m still discovering more reasons whenever I see you,” he continues while our coffees are prepared, unaware of the effect those tiny caresses have on me.

The barista calls out my order first and sets it on the counter. Easton gets it for me, selecting one of the complimentary peppermint rod stirrers the shop puts out around the end of fall that I’m addicted to.

He pops it in, then offers me the drink. I blink at the cup.

He inclines his head. “What? You like mocha lattes with a real peppermint stick, not that fake crap big chains peddle.”

Something tightens in my stomach. It’s not anything special. Not even anything major to notice, yet my heart gives an insistent little thud.

“Thanks,” I stammer as I accept the cup.

His expression softens, eyes hooding as his stare flits across my face. “See? Damn, girl. Your smile is beautiful.”

I’m smiling? I touch my lips. Oh. Yeah, I guess I am.

Easton takes the other drinks, passing the second one to me so he can shoulder his gear bag when we reach the door. He holds it open for me and follows me outside.

“My roommate will be grateful for free coffee,” I say.

“No problem.” He glances in the direction of campus and sighs. “I need to get going.”

“Right. Okay, I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah? Good.” He licks his lower lip. “Wish me luck?”

I tilt my head. “Do you need it?”

“From you, gorgeous? Yes.” He steps into me, nearly brushing against me. It traps the warmth of the coffees I’m holding between us. “Say it, baby.”

My lashes flutter and my lips part on a shaky exhale. A gust of wind slices through the square and he rubs my arm, blocking me from the brunt of the cold air with his tall frame.

“Good luck,” I finally murmur.

The broad grin he gives me forms gradually until the corners of his eyes crinkle with pleasure. He holds a hand over his chest as if he’s captured my words and tucked them into his heart. Then he drops it, replaceing my waist. My gaze locks on his mouth while my pulse thrums.

It’s been a while for me, but I can tell—he’s a good kisser. One that can take you apart with a single, devastating kiss.

The old bell above the coffee shop breaks the moment. He shifts us so we aren’t blocking the sidewalk.

“I should go. Before this one gets cold.” I hold up Reagan’s drink. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He smirks.

My brow furrows. “What’s that look for?”

“I’m getting used to watching you walk away from me. It has its benefits, don’t get me wrong.” Easton scrapes his teeth over his lip as he checks me out. “But one of these days, you won’t walk away.”

A laugh catches in my throat. “Bye, Easton.”

“Bye, baby. Hate to see you leave—” He gives a low, rumbling hum when I turn around and start walking. “—love to watch you go.”

My face is on fire and his enticing tone causes an ache between my thighs that lasts long after I leave Easton behind in the square.