Breaking the Ice (18 page)

   She’d been invading my life for months, torturing me every day with her killer legs and her topaz eyes and her gorgeous smile. I couldn’t take it anymore.

   Her lips settled into a tiny grin, the devilish look in her eyes shooting straight into my gut. I didn’t know if it was the booze finally giving me the proper balls or what, but I knew what I had to do.

   I reached an arm around her waist, slanted my hand up her spine to her neck, and gave a light squeeze. Before she could even react to that, I spun her around until her back was against the bar, my body trapping her along her front.

   I was only able to catch her stunned expression for a second before my face came closer to hers, moving in for the kill. It wasn’t even a kiss, just a slight brushing of my mouth against hers, our lips barely touching. It was taking all my restraint not to slam myself against her, but I wanted the decision to be hers.
She
had to want this. She had to come to me.

   My heart was beating an unfamiliar rhythm behind my ribcage, the sweet smell of fresh air and cinnamon invading my nostrils, the taste of pure ecstasy hinting from her lips. Just the slightest give here and I could take us both away. Make her forget there was any other guy on the planet.

   “Zac…” she breathed out cautiously, her hands in fists against my biceps, her heavy-lidded eyes trained on my mouth, wondering and wanting.

   But still, I waited. I waited for what seemed like an eternity, her enticing mouth and her delectable body just a breath away, my fingers sweeping against the smooth skin of her nape. Barely touching her when all I wanted was to bury myself inside her, feel her give what I so wanted to take.

   But I waited.

   C’mon, Avery. Give me a sign. Give me anything to let me know you want this too.

  
I felt her chest rise as she took a deep inhale, and her mouth pressed just a bit firmer to mine. When I brushed my lips back in answer, her eyes widened in acknowledgement as the smallest whimper escaped from her throat.

   Fuck it. Good enough.

   “Don’t look so surprised,” I whispered against her lips. “You knew this was inevitable.”

   And with that, I tightened my arms around her and pressed our mouths together.

  
My God.

   She didn’t resist. I felt the muscles of her shoulders relax, her fists unclenching to wind into the back of my hair. I kept my hand on the back of her neck, pulling her face closer to mine, opening my mouth slightly, begging to be let in.

   And when her lips parted, I knew I was royally fucked.

   My tongue swept inside to tangle with hers, and I heard the first gasp between us. To tell you the truth, I didn’t know if it was coming from her or me. I touched and I tasted, my senses completely consumed by this woman in my arms. I thought I remembered what kissing Avery felt like, but I was wrong. This, what was happening now, was infinitely better.

   I groaned into her mouth and shoved my hips against hers, my cock already on the verge of pain, my restraint overwhelmed by this vixen within my grasp. I knew I was a lost cause. I was insane over this girl. She’d broken me years ago; I was hers. I knew she was too good for me, knew I could never be enough for her. And still, I wanted her anyway.

   I slid my hands down her luscious curves and wrapped them around her backside, pulling her into intimate contact with the insistent hard-on behind my jeans. I rolled myself against her, trying to make her lose it, but the added friction was almost
my
undoing. I was way too worked up to even think of staying in control, and I knew if I didn’t get a handle on my body’s reactions, this night would be over before it even began. And I had much bigger plans for us.

   But when Avery pressed
back
, I almost lost my mind. I felt the length of her incredible body against every inch of mine. A moan stirred in the back of her throat as her hands knotted into my hair.

   And that was it.

   I was gone.

   My tongue was buried in her sweet mouth, my cock was grinding against her shorts… and oh fuck. I was going to explode.

   I pulled back just enough to take a breath. “
Jesus, Ave
,” I whispered, tightening my fist into the back of her hair, my words feathering over her lips. “Is this okay? Is it okay to want you this bad?”

   She shivered against me as her heated stare met mine. There was a fire blazing in her eyes, and I wanted to show her just how hot I could
really
get her if she’d only let me.

   She was going to let me. I could tell that she would.

   I went to lower my mouth to hers again, but then I caught a hint of something else in her expression. Fear? Remorse?

   A wave of guilt washed over me, and goddammit, I shouldn’t have taken things this far. I was probably scaring the hell out of her by moving so fast. We had to slow down. She was drunk, for fucksakes.

   And I sure as hell wanted to be more than just her rebound guy.

   I released my hold on her and grabbed my beer.

   She didn’t even bother to try and look me in my eyes as she said, “I’m sorry, Zac.”

   I took a swig from my drink and shot back flatly, “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

   “I don’t want this to change things between us.”

  
Too late
. “It won’t.”

   “Good,” she punctuated, inspecting her nails and flipping her shoe off her toes. She averted her face and scanned her eyes around the room, those gears in her inebriated brain cranking away.

   Out of nowhere, she sputtered out an idea. “You know something? We should do a Casino Night.  I think we should take advantage of the fact that we have an enthusiastic new audience, strike while the iron’s hot.”

   I knew she was attempting to bring us back to friendly banter, but I was still trying to get my hard-on under control and feeling a little cranky over our halted kiss. So, my words came out a bit pissier than I intended. “Yeah. Sounds great.”

   She bit her lip and swiped a hand through her hair. “Are you mad?”

   “I’m not mad.”

   “Then why do you have that little line between your eyebrows? That’s your game face.”

   “I’m not playing a game, here.” I shot her a warning look at that. She knew damn well what I was talking about.

   “What?”

   I wished she would just stop pushing me for once. Why couldn’t she just let things happen the way they were supposed to? Between us, with my bar… Why couldn’t she just let things be what they were so obviously meant to be? “It’s not a game for me, okay? It’s do or die. Literally. I’ve been living hand-to-mouth for the past four years, and what? You think I’m hanging around here as a hobby? Oh sure. I could make a successful business too if I had Daddy’s money to keep me afloat while I played entrepreneur.”

   She looked at me as if I’d kicked her in the teeth. I may as well have. We’d been getting along so well for weeks. One little setback and I immediately turned into a defensive dickhead, springing a surprise attack. How quickly I reverted back into asshole-mode.

  
It’s what I do
.

   I realized instantly how shitty my words were, and braced myself for the storm that was surely coming. The wrath I deserved.

   Only it didn’t come.

   Her mouth was dropped open, but no sound came out of it. My shoulders slumped, the guilt of my words weighing down on me heavier than a truckload of concrete.

   The dead air between us gave me the chance to jump in, hat in hand. “Oh, Jesus, Ave. I’m sorry. I don’t know where the hell I get off. You’ve only been trying to help me out from Day One. I don’t even know why I’m fighting you on this.”

   “I do.”

   Her voice was soft, those two simple words a tiny pocket of air, bubbling their way through the surface of a raging river. Yes, I was angrier than I’d let on about our broken liplock, but my outburst was due to more than just that. If she had some insight into my fucked-up rant, I’d sure as hell be open to hearing about it. “What?”

   She crossed her arms over her chest—in defense?—as her eyes met mine. “You won’t be disrespecting your father by making this place successful. He’d want to see you doing well.” I was stunned by her words, and could only stand and gape at her as she continued, “You’ve been living ‘hand-to-mouth’ because you never
tried
to turn this place around. When I first came back here, I really wondered what happened to that aggressive guy who used to dominate the ice. Where did that killer spirit go? I knew it was still in you, and I’d like to think I helped bring it back out. And now you’re tapping into that killer spirit to fight me instead of using it to see how far you can really go. It’s like you don’t even
care
how well things have been going, Zac.”

   I was expecting a rebuttal to my rant, not a helpful insight, and her words sank in. Had I subconsciously been trying to keep this place from being a success all those years? Like, if it did better under my management than my father’s, that that would somehow show him up?

   Maybe that was the case prior to this year, and it was an interesting thought to ponder. But I’d been
overjoyed
about all the new business Avery had brought in recently. I thought I’d made that obvious. Why would she think I didn’t care?

   My brain was in overdrive, trying to register all the events of the past minutes, and I couldn’t come up with the right thing to say. Too much shit had just gone down for me to make any sense of this night. One second, she was putty in my arms. The next, she was playing psychologist with my head.

   And then, suddenly, it came to me. And it was so fucking obvious, I was ashamed of myself.

   I never thanked her.

   Of course she would be led to believe I didn’t give a shit. Of course she would come up with her cockamamie conclusion that it was some type of fear-of-success thing. Since I never offered any gratitude, she mistook it for lack of enthusiasm. I needed to fix that.

   She stood in a determined stance, jutting out her stubborn chin, waiting on my response.

   So, I gave her one.

   “I couldn’t be any happier about what you’ve done with this place, Ave. And I’m in this, I swear. I can’t
wait
to see how far we can take it. I’m grateful as all hell for all your hard work.” I ran a hand through my hair and met her eyes. “I should have thanked you long before now, and I’m sorry that I didn’t.
Thank you
.”

   Her shoulders relaxed as she let out a sigh. “I’m enjoying the work, Zac. Truly. And it’s nice to know it wasn’t done in vain.”

   She started to move toward me, coming in for a hug. I froze as her arms wrapped around my neck as I just barely allowed my hands to rest on her back.

   Too dangerous.

   I should have never kissed her; it was my mistake.
An exhilarating, heartbreaking mistake.

   Stepping out of her grasp, I aimed my comment to the floor. “I’m also sorry about before
.
I won’t let it happen again.”

Chapter Twenty-One

   Hockey season had started again.

   It used to be my favorite time of year, but over the past half-decade, all it did was serve as a reminder of my failed plans. This year, though, I didn’t sink into my annual melancholy. I was excited for my Devils to kick some ass. I was glad they were coming back to the ice as champs.

   My rookie year was like that. We’d taken The Cup that summer; I started playing with them in the fall. There was a certain arrogance the players displayed, which would have been off-putting if it hadn’t been so rightly earned.

   You’d think that coming off a championship season would only keep the winning streak going. But what normally happened is that players from a winning team were suddenly in high demand, and it made more financial sense for a franchise to bring in some new blood at a cheaper price rather than try and match the offers for their top performers… making a defense of a previous championship a near impossibility.

   Some of the same players stuck around, most of the same coaches. But the momentum was gone by the time a new season rolled around.

   It was that situation that usually brought some new faces to the ice. Just-drafted rookies and guys who had spent most of the previous games riding the pines. Players who were still hungry enough to want to claim a win for their own.

   A player like Pat Giordano, who was currently filling in my old spot on the front lines.

   Giordano was a kickass athlete, and I didn’t know whether it made me feel better or worse to see my doppelganger dominating the game. He was already proving himself a formidable force to be reckoned with on the ice, and a frequent visitor to the penalty box when he was kicked off of it.

   Like I said, the guy reminded me of me.

   We had the game playing on every TV and customers drinking at every stool. Lately, a crowded bar was a common occurrence, but seeing as it was Halloween, it was a funnier-than-usual one tonight.

   A bunch of the guys were wearing costumes—Hell, I’d even thrown on a fedora—but Joey Bricks’ was the best. He was dressed up as a red-and-green-faced superfan, channeling Puddy from The Face Painter episode of
Seinfeld
. It was fucking hysterical. Every time anyone looked his way, he’d put on his game face and scream, “The
Devilllls
! We’re number one! We beat anybody!” then stick out his tongue Gene-Simmons-style and put up the horns.

   Had me laughing every time.

   A bunch of kids came in trick-or-treating, which was nice, but really kind of screwed up. That had never happened before. We used to only get the random teenager every year who’d sneak in on a dare from his buddies. But tonight, they were filing in pretty regularly.

   I was grateful that I’d picked up a few bags of candy for my customers, who griped that I was now giving it all away to the kids.

   I recognized a few of the little leaguers who came in with their parents, and every time I announced their presence, the guys all passed the hat. The kids made out like bandits, and their parents all thanked me and shook my hand. It was fairly awesome to finally be considered a part of this community, whom I’d started to realize weren’t the snobby, uptight people I’d originally believed them to be. The ones I’d gotten to know were pretty damn cool.

   The ones I
didn’t
know made a huge point to introduce themselves. They raved about the Norman Days party the month before, letting me know what a good time they’d had.

   “Heck. It’s a party every weekend. You should come in more often,” I’d say.

   It was the same line I offered to anyone who inquired about the place over the past weeks, and more often than not, the simple invitation was all it took. Because come they did. The past month had seen a steady stream of new customers, and I couldn’t have been happier about it.

   After the latest group of kids left the bar, I’d had it up to here with my customers’ grumbling. I mean, Jesus. I could just get them some replacement candy tomorrow.

   “Chill out, assholes,” I finally said. “I’ll buy the house a round if you’ll all just shut up already.” I gave a ring to the triangle which had everyone cheering and appropriately won over.

   But apparently, I’d reprogrammed them all too well. Like a Pavlovian response, once that bell was rung, a few guys started cheering, “Give-a-way! Give-a-way!”

   Crap. I’d done this to myself. The random giveaways had become a regular feature at The Westlake, and it seemed I couldn’t go more than a few days without being called out for slacking.

   “Alright, alright, fine,” I laughed out.

   I rifled through my prize box until I came across a gift certificate for
Give Me Candy
. I figured it would shut everyone up if they could buy their own damn chocolate bars.

   “Okay. Now for a question,” I said as I jumped up onto the bar. Scratching the back of my hair as I thought, I searched my memory for something to ask. I’d signed up for a daily email service that sent me trivia every day just for such occasions, figuring I sure as hell could use the help. “Got it. Okay, for a twenty-five dollar gift card to
Give Me Candy
, who can tell me whose face is on the five-thousand dollar bill?”

   At first, a few of the guys thought it was a trick question, but once I assured them the bill actually existed, they started yelling out names of presidents with abandon.

   Jerry Winters took a shot in the dark when he shouted, “James Madison!”

   “Hold up, we have a winner! Mr. Liverwurst is correct!”

  There were grumbles and cheers as I hopped off the bar and handed him the gift card. “Here’s your prize. Thanks for playing.”

   “Well, thank you, Maniac,” he said proudly. “Looks like someone’s got something for
you
.”

   Jerry nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen. Avery was standing there with a sheet cake, surrounded by my mother, brothers, and the entire kitchen staff. As they marched over toward me, the whole place broke into “Happy Birthday.”

   Felix took the cake from Avery, placing it on the end of the bar with a “Happy birthday, Meester Zaaa-aaac!” as I stood there with my arms crossed, trying to hide my smile.

   “You thought we forgot, didn’t you?” my mother asked, all cat-who-ate-the-canary.

   “I thought it was a little weird that you didn’t say anything when you called before.”

   “Like I could forget my baby’s birthday.”

   There was a collective “
Awww
” from my customers, every last one of them busting my chops.

   Mom shuffled a hand at me. “Well, go on. Blow out your candles!”

   I started to bend over the flames when Avery added, “Don’t forget to make a wish.”

   I paused in my action and looked at her. She was wearing a long blond wig and dressed in a pink, velour sweatsuit, her makeup completely overdone. She had the hourglass figure of Anna Nicole Smith, only without all the extra girth. She looked like the Anna Nicole from her modeling days.

   In other words,
hot
.

   My eyes lowered down her body and back up to her face in a half-lidded stare, envisioning every dirty thing I wished I could do to her. Our kiss from the other day had been playing across my mind almost every minute since it happened. We’d come to an unspoken agreement not to discuss it, but I had to imagine she found it just as hard to forget as me. I’d been really good about remaining hands off since then, but fuck it. It was my birthday. I could fantasize if I wanted to. “Hmmm. Just one?” I asked. Without breaking contact with her eyes, I blew out the candles.

   Avery’s mouth dropped open slightly, and a beautiful pink flush colored her cheeks. She started pulling off the candles and dumping them in a nearby ashtray, and I could see that her hands were shaking.
Heh heh
.

   She actually stuttered when she said, “O-okay. I need to bring this in the back to cut it up.”

   She went to grab the cake, but thankfully, my mother stepped in. “Why don’t you let Felix take care of that. I don’t think you should be handling any knives right now.” She gave a knowing pat to Avery’s shoulder and then made off with my cake.

   Avery sank down onto my stool at the end of the bar, letting out with a huge sigh. “Even your mother knows when you’re being a cad.”

   “She should,” I smiled back. “She raised four of them.”

* * *

   While everyone was busy loading up on my birthday cake, my family and I took over a quiet, unoccupied corner of the square bar so I could open my presents. It wouldn’t be quiet for long. In about an hour, this entire place was going to be packed. It was Friday night, after all.

   “Here you go, dickwad,” Bash said as he placed two wrapped boxes on the bar.

   “Sebastian!” my mother admonished. “Don’t call your baby brother a dickwad.”

   We all stopped dead in our tracks at that, staring at our mother in a disbelieving pause. We weren’t used to hearing her talk like that.

   Wyatt broke the silence when he busted out with, “Yeah, Bash.
Finn’s
the dickwad.”

   We all lost our minds cracking up as Mom put her arms around Finn and laughed, “Oh, you know that’s not true, sweetheart,” giving him a big kiss on his head. She was still chuckling as she explained, “The bottom box is from me; the littler one on top is from your brothers.”

   “And Avery,” Wyatt added.

  
Avery went in on a present with my brothers?
I lowered an eyebrow at her. “Really?”

   She swallowed her mouthful of cake and tried to sound impassive as she explained, “I only put in the phone call to the right people. It was your brothers’ idea.”

   “Well, now I’m intrigued.”

   I tore off the wrapping and opened the box to find… “Holy shit!” I pulled out the Wayne Gretsky sweater and held it up in front of me. “No fucking way!”

   My mother bypassed the reprimand and just shot me a scowl.

   “Sorry, Mom, but… holy shit!”

   My brothers laughed as Avery said, “It’s signed. Look.” She bent the front corner of the jersey up to show me, and I immediately turned it over in my hand so I could check it out. My fingers ran over the signature, right there in front of my face. I couldn’t even find the words.

   “Thank you, guys!” I flipped the thing over my shoulder and gave each of them a hug. Then I grabbed Avery’s face between my hands and kissed her cheek. “This is the coolest thing ever. How did you…?”

   “Well, you may not be too happy to hear it, but
my father
was the one with the necessary connections.”

   I didn’t even care that such awesomeness had come by way of a man I loathed. “Wow. Please be sure to thank him for me.”

   Avery’s lips pursed together. She seemed happy that I was okay with it. How could I
not
be? “Will do,” she answered.

   “I’m going to get it framed. I’ll hang it up right there on the wall next to mine.”

   “That’s a little blasphemous, don’t ya think?” asked Finn, like a complete wiseass.

   Before I could shoot him down properly, my mother piped in on a wary grin. “Shoot. That’s a nice gift. I hope you like mine as much.”

   “Well, let’s find out!” I said through a chuckle. I was in unusually good spirits on my twenty-eighth birthday. Normally, I couldn’t care less about it.

   The box was about the same size as my cake, and because of that, I didn’t have any clue as to what else could be inside. But I couldn’t imagine my mother had wrapped up a cake, for godsakes.

   I unwrapped it carefully just in case. Lifting the lid, I peeked inside. My head and shoulders immediately dropped, and I closed my eyes to stop the threatening tears. Once I could unclamp my jaw, I said, “Wow, Mom.”

   I pulled the large, wooden sign out of the box, holding it up by its gold chain. The surface was stained in a dark brown, and the words were carved into its grain, but painted with a metallic gold:

The Rudy McAllister

Memorial Billiard Room

   My brothers went uncharacteristically silent at the sight, and Avery clamped a hand over her mouth. Mom tried to sound unaffected, but there were tears in her eyes as she explained, “You’re doing such a good thing with that pool room. I just thought it was deserving of something that showed its significance.”

   “It’s perfect, Mom. Thank you.” I put an arm around her and gave her a huge squeeze. “I’m going to hang it up right now.”

   I shook my head to get my brain straight and then held up the sign, announcing, “Hey, check it out, guys!”

   They all turned on their stools and expressed their approval, some even going so far as to offer applause. I dragged a bar stool over to the pool room’s entrance and stepped up to reach the hooks over the door. I straightened the sign, gave my fingers a kiss, and tapped it before climbing down, watching as it slowed its swinging, settling into its new home.