On Thin Ice (The Baltimore Banners Book 8) Read online

  So no, Kenny shouldn’t be here. He should be back at his apartment, still sleeping, not at some silly youth hockey game at such an ungodly early hour on a Sunday morning.

  Except he was having fun. He shouldn’t be, but he was.

  And it wasn’t just because of a certain ref he couldn’t seem to stop watching, either. And wasn’t that just a kick in his ass, for him to actually be enjoying watching a ref? Especially after last night.

  But it wasn’t just watching the woman he couldn’t seem to get off his mind. The game itself was fun to watch, bringing back memories of when he was a kid that age, playing his heart out each weekend, never imagining that he’d make it all the way to the pros. Yes, he hoped and dreamed. Didn’t they all? But for it to actually happen—no, he hadn’t dared to hope and dream that much.

  Although if the shit from last night became a habit, he wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t be sent back down to the minors. Coach Leblanc and Coach Stephenson hadn’t seemed too upset. With the calls, yes, but not with him, at least. But he wasn’t about to read too much into that, not now, not this early in the season. He didn’t care that they’d renewed his contract over the summer. Didn’t care how much reassurance his agent gave him, telling him he was there to stay and to stop worrying.

  JP tensed beside him, leaning forward on the bench as he focused on the game in front of them. Kenny scanned the ice, following the play as JP’s niece moved toward the net, the puck right on her tape as she closed in for a shot. A kid from the other team—at least a foot taller than she was—raced toward her. She must have seen him or sensed him or something because she cut to the left, spun around, and pulled back her stick to shoot. It would have been a beautiful shot, too, if the bigger kid hadn’t swung his stick up and out, catching her in the arm at the last minute and ruining the shot.

  A shrill whistle split the air and Kenny jumped to his feet, his mouth opened to start shouting. JP grabbed his arm and yanked him back down with a small shake of his head, even as he let loose a string of French that Kenny didn’t understand.

  “No, my friend. They don’t allow that here, as I’ve been reminded many times. Just sit and let the officials handle it.”

  “But that was bull—”

  “They have a zero tolerance policy here. Including language.” JP’s wife, Emily, leaned across to interrupt, the small smile on her face letting Kenny know that this wasn’t the first time she had given the reminder. Kenny snapped his mouth shut and turned back to the ice.

  The ref—the same woman Kenny had been watching throughout the game—skated over to the two players and jerked her thumb toward the penalty box. The bigger kid must have said something because she moved even closer to him and pointed again, her arm outstretched. Her lips pursed in a thin line and Kenny was pretty sure he saw the muscle tick in her clenched jaw.

  It reminded him of his encounter with the woman last week. The memory made him smile but he wasn’t sure why. He’d never been attracted to tougher women—not that she was necessarily tough. For all he knew, she was completely meek and humble.

  He watched her again, saw the stubborn set of her shoulders and tightened jaw, the raised chin that seemed to dare anyone to say a word. Humble and meek? Somehow he doubted that.

  Kenny leaned to the side to talk to JP as the bigger skater headed to the penalty box. “She’s pretty good.”

  “Your ref?”

  “What?” Kenny leaned back, shaking his head. “No! I meant your niece. Taylor.”

  A bright smile spread across JP’s face. “She is, isn’t she? A natural talent. And maybe some personal coaching as well, eh?”

  Emily laughed and nudged JP in the side. “Yeah. It has nothing to do with the fact that she’s been playing for four years. Or that she went to hockey camp this summer. Or that she loves it and is just good at playing it.”

  “Of course not, ma chère. But it’s also not a bad thing that her uncle has given her pointers, is it? She should be playing travel, not rec.”

  “Not yet. Maybe next year, when she’s older. You see how much bigger everyone else is. It would be even worse in travel…”

  Kenny tuned them out, knowing just from the words that this wasn’t the first time JP and Emily had this discussion. Something nudged him in the side—his sore side—and he shifted on the cold metal seat, scowling at his fellow teammate, Mat Herron.

  “Did you really need to hit me there?”

  “Dude, sorry.”

  “Yeah, sure you are.” Kenny rubbed at the bruise, waiting for Mat to say something else. “Well? What did you want?”

  “I was just wondering what JP meant when he said ‘your ref’, that’s all. Do you know her?”

  “No, I don’t know her. And she’s not ‘my ref’. Ignore JP. He’s an idiot.”

  The idiot in question leaned over, looking at both of them. “Lauren.”

  “What?”

  “Her name is Lauren.” JP nodded his head toward the ice. “Your ref.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I did what any good teammate would do.” JP’s grin widened. “I sent Taylor over to ask.”

  “You did what? You have got to be kidding me. Great. Now she’s going to think I’m interested in her or something.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  Kenny glared at Mat and shook his head. “No, I’m not.”

  The lie only stuck a little in his throat. Was he interested? Maybe. No, he was just curious, that was all. He didn’t have time to be interested, didn’t have time for anything but focusing on his own game. And even if he did have time, she wasn’t his type. Of that much, at least, he was certain.

  Mat snorted in disbelief, the sound echoing the same one going on in his own head. He lowered his brows, giving Mat another dirty look. “Shouldn’t you be down there with your girlfriend or something, keeping her company while she’s taking pictures?”

  A sly smile spread across Mat’s face, completely at odds with the faint blush that was turning his ears red. “I keep Nicole plenty company when she’s taking pictures, trust me.”

  “Oh Christ. Really? I so didn’t need to hear that. Did you really need to say that? I need bleach for that unwelcome visual now. Thank you so much.” Kenny shoved at Mat, maybe a little harder than he needed to because the man almost fell off the bench. But it was his own fault for even mentioning it. Apparently Mat did a lot of posing for Nicole when they were alone. A few of the wives and girlfriends had gotten an eyeful at JP’s wedding a couple of months ago when Mat accidentally showed them some of the pictures. He still hadn’t lived it down—but at least nobody was calling him The Saint anymore.

  Mat just laughed and pushed to his feet, climbing over the benches until he reached the bottom. JP nudged him in the other side and motioned toward the ice.

  “Don’t worry, my friend. Not even Taylor knows why I was asking so your ref won’t know that you’re interested.”

  “I am not interested.” Kenny uttered the words through his clenched jaw. This is what he got for saying anything in the first place. He should have just kept his mouth shut the other day at lunch. If he had, none of this would be happening.

  JP raised his eyebrows in disbelief then muttered something in French that made his wife nudge his leg and tell him to watch his language. But JP only laughed then grabbed her and gave her a quick kiss. He said something else in French, something that had Emily blushing and suddenly looking shy.

  Kenny rolled his eyes and looked away, feeling like a sudden intruder. He was surrounded by men entirely too in love. And no, that wasn’t a spurt of jealousy he felt. He wasn’t the jealous type, and he certainly wasn’t the type to be looking for love. Later, maybe, when his career settled and the future was a little more certain. But not now. Definitely not now.

  He turned his attention back to the game, tuning out everything else around him. Taylor’s niece was back on the ice, tapping her stick until one of the kids passed her the puck. She whirled and took off down
the ice in a breakaway that had Kenny jumping to his feet, cheering.

  One of the kids from the other team—the same kid as before—launched himself over the bench and took off after her, a look of intense fury on his face. Only this time he didn’t go for a hooking. He caught up to Taylor and dove forward, swiping at her skates with the blade of his stick. Taylor tripped and flew forward, hitting the ice on her side as the puck slid away, out of control.

  Kenny knew the whistle blew, he saw the ref bring it to her mouth so she must have blown it, but he didn’t hear it. Anger ripped through him. Anger on Taylor’s behalf, anger at the bully who had gone after her. He climbed down the bleachers, ignoring JP’s call, ignoring the looks of some of the other parents as he reached the glass and banged against it with his fist.

  “You’re going to let that one go? Really? You’re just going to let him get away with that?”

  But she wasn’t, even he could see that. The ref was leading the kid over to the penalty box, her face a cool mask of irritation as she leaned over and said something to the kid. Then she looked over her shoulder, her eyes meeting his for just a second before she skated over to the players’ bench. Had she recognized him? He couldn’t tell, and he didn’t really care, not right now. He was still too angry.

  And yes, the anger was irrational and misplaced. Maybe it had something to do with last night’s game and the frustration he thought he had put behind him. Maybe it was something else entirely, he didn’t know.

  “He should be ejected for that move and you know it!” Kenny banged against the glass again then looked over in surprise when someone grabbed his arm.

  “Dude, are you crazy? Stop. You’re acting like an ass.” Mat hissed the warning as he glanced from side to side. Kenny pulled his arm from Mat’s grip and stepped back, taking a deep breath. What the hell was he doing? Mat was right, he was acting like an ass.

  “I—” He stopped and took another deep breath, calming himself. “Sorry.”

  “You need to knock it off or you’re going to get kicked out.” Mat’s gaze focused on something behind Kenny. “And oh shit, now you did it.”

  “Did what?” But Kenny didn’t think Mat heard him, not over the loud banging against the glass—coming from the other side. Kenny turned, his eyes narrowing when he stared into the dark brown eyes of the ref.

  And she didn’t look happy.

  He swallowed and tried to smile, but that only made her frown deepen. She crooked her finger, motioning for him to follow her as she skated along the boards to the far corner. He glanced back at Mat, who merely shrugged, then walked down to where the ref was waiting for him. She popped open the door and stepped out, one hand braced against the outside boards as she waited for him.

  And yeah, she still looked pissed.

  “Do you know how to read?”

  “What? Of course I know how to read. What kind of stupid question—”

  “Good. Read this and tell me what it says.” She pointed to a large sign taped to the glass, still scowling at him. Kenny hesitated then moved closer, his eyes moving between her and the sign. He let out a heavy sigh then looked to the line she was pointing at, silently reading it.

  Support the officials on and off the ice. Any criticism of the officials only hurts the game.

  “Well? What does it say?”

  “Listen, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  “What does it say?”

  “I read it already.” Christ, did she have to act like he was three years old and didn’t know how to read? “I said it won’t happen again, I’m sorry.”

  “Get out.”

  “What? You can’t be serious!”

  “You do understand what zero tolerance means, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. I’m not an idiot. I said I was—”

  “You need to leave. Now.” She stepped closer and Kenny realized that they were actually eye-to-eye, that the skates made her the exact same height as him. A tiny thrill—completely unexpected and totally unwelcome—went through him at the realization. He kicked it away.

  “You’re seriously kicking me out? Seriously?”

  “Yes, I am. Seriously. Now leave.”

  “But—”

  “Dude, come on, let’s go.” Mat tugged on his arm, trying to pull him away.

  “But I—”

  “Later. Now come on.” Mat tugged his arm again, pulling until Kenny finally followed, still not believing he was being ejected from a youth hockey game. A freaking youth hockey game! They were ten feet away when the ref called out.

  “Mr. Haskell?”

  Kenny paused, wondering how she knew his name, surprised she was calling him. He turned around, thinking that maybe she had changed her mind, that she was going to let him stay. “Yeah?”

  “The next time you have a question for me, man up and ask it yourself instead of sending a little girl to do it for you.”

  “What? I didn’t send anyone to do anything.” But it didn’t matter what he said because the ref had already closed the door with a loud bang and was skating away from him. Mat pulled on his arm again, leading him outside as Kenny kept glancing over his shoulder, trying to understand her parting words.

  It wasn’t until a few hours later that Kenny realized she must have thought he was Taylor’s uncle. That he was the one who had sent Taylor over to ask her name.

  He was going to kill JP, no doubt about it.

  Chapter Five

  “I’m so sorry, Lauren. I really am.”

  Lindsay sat curled in the corner of the sofa, her knees pulled tight against her chest. Her arms were wrapped low around her ankles, her hands fisted together so tightly that her knuckles were white.

  Because she was really upset? Or to stop her hands from shaking for another reason?

  Lauren released a heavy sigh and stared at her sister. Lindsay wouldn’t meet her gaze, hadn’t for the last thirty minutes, not since Lauren got home and Lindsay asked if they could talk.

  If was the first time since that morning a few weeks ago that Lindsay had gone out of her way to say anything to Lauren.

  And yeah, some talk. All Lindsay had said was that she was sorry. That was it. The same phrase repeated over and over. She was sorry. She really was. But she couldn’t say what she was sorry for, wouldn’t apologize for anything specific. And something told Lauren that the only thing Lindsay was sorry about was being told they needed to discuss her living arrangements tonight when Lauren got home.

  Because Lauren asked Lindsay why she wasn’t getting ready for work this morning and found out that Lindsay had quit her job. Again.

  Quit, or was fired. She didn’t really clarify, just told Lauren that she was tired of the job and didn’t like working there anyway. The job was too restrictive, too menial. The job didn’t pay her what she was worth and they expected her to do too much for what they paid her.

  Lauren took a deep breath and held it, pinching the bridge of her nose and ignoring the small throb starting at the base of her neck. Lindsay was—had been—a cashier at a grocery store. For two months.

  And she still wouldn’t look at Lauren. Her head was bent, strands of her platinum-streaked hair falling against her cheek. Her gaze was focused down by her feet, on her brightly-polished toe nails. Recently polished, from the looks of it. And even though she wouldn’t look at her, Lauren could see the wetness in her wide blue eyes, the same wetness that spiked her dark lashes and sparkled like glitter in the light coming from the lamp on the table next to her.

  Real tears? Probably. But there was no doubt in Lauren’s mind that the tears were for all the wrong reasons.

  “You just don’t get it, Lindsay. You never have. You can’t keep doing this.”

  “But what am I doing? I don’t understand.”

  Lauren rolled her eyes at the whine in her sister’s soft voice, like she was a ten-year-old who didn’t understand why she was being scolded. “You’re not doing anything, Lindsay. That’s the problem. You flunked out of c
ollege then threw a fit and moved out when Mom and Dad told you they weren’t going to pay for a third try until you grew up. You disappeared for a year. Then you begged me to let you move in, told me you’d get a job and help out.”

  “But I did get a job. It’s not my fault they expect people to do so much but won’t pay anything. If they paid me more, or promoted me—”

  “Promoted you? Lindsay, you were a freaking part-time cashier with absolutely no experience. Why would they promote you to anything?”

  “Because I’m worth ten times what they were paying me! And then they had the nerve to get upset if I went on break or left for lunch.”

  “You got fired again, didn’t you?”

  Lindsay’s head snapped up, anger flashing in her eyes for a brief second before she looked away. Her hands tightened around her ankles and she took a shaky breath before becoming meek and humble and apologetic again.

  “It was a stupid job anyway. A moron could do it.”

  “Yeah, apparently not, since you got fired. Again. Lindsay, what is your problem? I just don’t get it. Why can’t you even hold onto a simple job?”

  “I told you. Nobody appreciates what I can do, they don’t value me. I was overqualified.”

  “Overqualified? How can you say that? You don’t have any experience. You can’t keep a job longer than a few months. But you expect them to pay you a six-figure salary and promote you? It doesn’t work that way.”

  “Oh God.” Lindsay drew out the phrase, rolling her eyes. “Please. Now you sound like Mom and Dad.”

  “Because Mom and Dad happen to be right. If you want something, you need to work for it. You need to earn it. You can’t expect people to just give you money for something you haven’t even worked for.”

  She waited for Lindsay to argue with her, to tell her she was wrong or to say something else. She knew she wanted to, because she could see the muscle working in Lindsay’s jaw, knew her sister was getting angry. But she must have reminded herself she needed to stay meek and humble because she just sat there, twisting her hands. Lauren leaned back against the chair and shook her head. “It needs to stop, Lindsay. I can’t keep supporting you when you refuse to even help yourself.”