
Making His Move

--------

Susan Scott Shelley

# Table of Contents

Title Page

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Thank You

About The Author

Acknowledgements

Susan's Books

|  |

---|---|---

# Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Thank You

About The Author

Acknowledgements

Susan's Books

Copyright (C) 2016 Susan Scott Shelley

ISBN: 978-1-944220-18-1

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person from proper authorized retail channels. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

Visit Susan at <http://www.susanscottshelley.com>

For new releases and other reader news, sign up for Susan's newsletter

|  |

---|---|---

# Chapter One

--------

SOME MEN REACHED FOR booze in times of strife, but Rod Fraser preferred a strong java with lots of cream and sugar. And he needed a serious caffeine fix right about now.

He downed a few gulps of the liquid fuel gone cold and turned the car off the highway. To-go cups of his favorite brew had been his only companions during the road trip from New Orleans to Holiday, New York. The twenty-plus hours behind the wheel were the first span of alone-time that he'd had in months.

Plenty of time to think.

Plenty of time to gain a new appreciation for the chaos and chatter his teammates brought to every hockey game, practice, and road trip.

Plenty of time to realize he'd miss the hell out of them if he left the team.

But if he stayed, he'd continue to be the backup goalie.

He wanted to be number one.

But that wouldn't happen as long as he remained a member of the Cajun Rage. The reigning Cup champions. The first team to give him a shot at the top tier of the professional level.

A small part of his mind whispered that he should be grateful and stay where he was, but the rest of him screamed for a chance to prove he was as good as the best goalies in the league.

Frustration laced through his thoughts, had him shifting in his seat, glaring at the cars and lights and remaining miles that kept him from home. He wanted to get there before dark. The last of the sunset streaked the horizon with red and pink and gold. Accelerating the car, he passed a minivan, then two SUVs, not slowing until he'd reached the Welcome to Holiday sign.

He sighed and sucked down the rest of his coffee. His muscles ached from sitting for too long, his head ached from the constant debating of "stay or go," and his system jangled from way too much caffeine.

Not that there was such a thing.

Tossing the cup aside, he pulled into the driveway of the house he shared with his brother, Dylan. Being home would help him make the right decision. Dylan would understand what he was going through. So would his dad. Having pro-hockey players in the family was a huge help.

Before he could hit the button for the garage, the large door rolled open, and Dylan emerged, waving.

Rod grinned, and the tightness in his shoulders eased. He parked next to his brother's car, careful of the hockey equipment lining the wall.

As soon as he stepped out of his SUV, his brother caught him in a hug. "Hey, you made it."

The heat of the August night wrapped around him, along with a cool current of air-conditioning from the open door to the house. Rod slapped Dylan on the back then pulled away. Being home meant decent leftovers. "Good to see you, bro. Any food in the fridge?"

Dylan peered into the front seat and grabbed one of his bags. "Shit. How many coffees did you have? Did all of them contain a shot of espresso? That's not a good dinner..."

"Didn't want to stop and eat. Just wanted to get home." Out-running or out-driving his thoughts hadn't worked. He needed to be here; he needed the few weeks with Dylan and the rest of their family.

"I know the feeling. Still, I'm glad you broke the trip into two days."

"No way did I want to try driving straight through again." He'd made that mistake two summers ago, after his first year with the team. Rod heaved the bag with his hockey equipment over his shoulder then grabbed the two remaining suitcases. "I really am starving."

Dylan led the way into the house. Not much had changed since his last visit at Christmas. "I thought we'd head over to Tap Out. You can grab something to eat there."

The bar was close, noisy as hell, and one of his favorites. Rod set his bags on the floor and stretched. "I don't know. I'm kind of beat."

"One drink. Come on. I never got to buy you that drink after you won the Cup."

True. He'd been so busy celebrating with his teammates that he hadn't had a chance to enjoy that victory with his brother. He'd gone right from the celebration and parade to playing in the National Cup game and then charity tournaments, hoping that by showcasing his skills, he'd receive an offer from another team. A month and a half filled with work when he should have been resting his exhausted body.

He wanted to dive into sleep, but he'd really missed hanging out with Dylan. "Fine. But you're buying dinner, too."

"I'll even drive."

No way would he argue with that.

Within minutes, they were on the road and pulling into the crowded parking lot. When they entered the bar, several people shouted and waved. The Buffalo suburb was home to several of the Buffalo Bedlam players, and Dylan as team captain commanded a lot of attention. But rather than calling for his brother, people were cheering Rod's name.

Brows raised, Rod glanced at Dylan. His brother just grinned and clapped him on the back. "I may have mentioned to a few people that you'd be back in town tonight."

In a place that only permitted customers to wear shirts supporting hometown teams, the number of Cajun Rage t-shirts, complete with his number on the back, made him feel like a hometown hero. "This is insane. But awesome."

"Let's get that drink." Dylan led the way to the bar.

Rod stopped to chat with old friends along the way, declining offer after offer of free drinks. The first drink of the night belonged to his brother.

Dylan handed him a beer, then clinked their glasses together. "Congrats on the Cup again, bud. I'm happy for you."

"Thanks." But the win was bittersweet. First, because as the backup goalie, he hadn't actually seen any ice time during the playoffs, so the victory felt hollow. And second, because Dylan's team had been knocked out of the playoffs in the conference finals. Of course, there wasn't any way they both could have won, not while they played on different teams. "I'm sorry you didn't get to go any further."

Dylan nodded and then shrugged. "It was probably better for Mom and Dad that our teams didn't end up going head to head. Besides, I think next season will be the Bedlam's chance. The rookies are settled, the defense is solid, goaltending top-notch, and all four offense lines are in tune. The guys have been getting together all summer, busting their asses."

"That would be cool--both of us having our names on the Cup, to go along with Dad's." That was the one thing he loved most about the coveted trophy. Every player who won the Cup had their name etched onto the tiered bands.

"Roddy," a voice called out, and he recognized it immediately. No one but his baby sister called him Roddy.

He turned in time to catch Kelsey's smile and then her hug. "Hey, I missed you."

"Well then, you should have come home sooner." She tapped his shoulder and then pulled away and gestured to her right. "Arielle's here too. Say hello."

His gaze swept to the right and then his mouth went dry.

A vision from the past materialized before him, wearing jeans that could have been painted on and a pink tank top that hinted at her curves.

Arielle Charton. Kelsey's best friend and little sister to Ben Charton, his closest bud since grade school.

"Hi, Rod." A slow smile stole across her face and her green eyes shined like emeralds.

He loved how the little tilt of her head that followed her smile always made her brown curls bob around her face. And the blush that always stained her cheeks. Small, with delicate features and a gentle spirit, she reminded him of something that needed to be protected.

Like from him. He'd had a thing for her for years. Since well before he should have. He had more than a soft spot for her, it was a caring that ran deep and mixed with an attraction that he'd tried to ignore. She'd been unavailable until recently, and now that they were in the same place for longer than a few days, maybe he could finally act on it. "Arielle. How have you been?"

The blush flushed deeper. "Congratulations on winning the Cup."

He stood to offer her his bar stool and got a whiff of coffee. "You smell great."

She wrinkled her nose. "I smell like the coffee shop. I closed tonight so Ben could be home with Jacob."

"How is that nephew of yours doing?"

"He wasn't feeling well and wanted his dad. I'm guessing the two of them are knee-deep into a cartoon marathon by now."

"Rod! Hey, Rod, over here!"

More and more people crowded in and called for his attention. Arielle drifted away, melting into the background with Kelsey before he could ask her to join him for a drink.

One hour stretched into two and then into three. Rod stole occasional glances at her throughout the night. He appreciated the friends and fans and food and drinks that flowed his way, but by eleven-thirty, he was dead on his feet.

Yet, when he spied Arielle hug his sister and then make her way toward the front door, fresh energy surged into him. He had to follow. Weaving through the throng of people slowed him down. She was halfway across the parking lot before he caught up to her.

"Arielle," he called out, not wanting to startle her.

She turned around, keys in hand, and waved. He jogged the remaining steps between them. "Hey, sorry, I just wanted a chance to talk. Leaving?"

"It's pretty late, and I'm tired." Rather than walk toward the parked cars, she turned toward the sidewalk.

"You're walking home?"

"It's close."

"I know. But it's late." He fell into step beside her.

She shot him a smile. "Are you adding bodyguard to your resume?"

"Where you're concerned, yeah."

"You don't have to walk me home."

A streetlight captured their shadows. His dwarfed hers like a giant standing next to a pixie. At six foot four, he felt huge compared to Arielle, towering over her by nearly a foot. "Humor me."

"So..." She bit her lip, and then her head dipped down again.

"So, maybe now that I'm home, we could get together sometime."

Her head snapped up at that. "Like..."

He slowed his steps, and over the pounding of his heartbeat, said the words he'd wanted to say for years. "Like a date."

The half-smile on her face faded. "I don't really do that anymore."

"What--date? Seriously? Because of Matt?" His voice growled over the name of her lying, cheating ex.

Her mouth fell open. "You know about that?" She shook her head and stepped back, wrapping her arms around her torso. "Of course, you do. I'm sure Kelsey and Ben gave you a ton of details."

"Just enough to make me want to take Matt apart limb by limb." Feeling like an idiot teen with his first crush, he rushed to take hold of her hand. Somehow, he'd already screwed this up.

"I--I need to get home." But she didn't pull away. She stared at their joined hands and her fingers tightened around his by the smallest fraction.

"Ari." He tugged until she met his gaze and showed him the hurt and longing swirling in that deep green. "I don't want to talk about Matt. I want to talk about you and me."

"There isn't a you and me."

"There could be."

She pulled her hand from his grasp. "You shouldn't kid around like that."

"I'm not. Go out with me. Give me a chance."

"Rod." She glanced around like she expected someone to jump out and prove this was all a joke.

"Ari." He took a single step toward her, hating that Matt had managed to hurt her so badly. "I'm not going to lie. I've had a thing for you for years. Since before you started dating Matt. Probably since I met your brother."

"But that's more than..." Eyes wide and disbelieving, she shook her head. "That's a really long time."

Damn straight, considering he'd met Ben when they were juniors in high school, and now here they were, twelve years later.

"Yeah, well." He shrugged and let out a huff. He was twenty-eight years old and played a professional sport for a living, but when it came to Arielle, he had zero game, whatsoever. "If you're not interested, I'll respect your decision. But if you are...then we should explore that."

Her breath hitched, and her tongue darted out to wet her lips. "I don't know."

The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable. But he was feeling pretty damn uncomfortable himself, standing there not knowing how she felt. He forced a laugh. "Well, if you're going to leave it up to me..."

That garnered a smile. "Walk me home?"

"We can start with that." He shoved his hands into his pockets so he wouldn't be tempted to touch her again and wracked his brain for a safe topic. "Ben said you had a job interview for teaching art at the high school. Congratulations."

"Yeah." The streetlight's glow revealed her pink blush deepen to red, and she looked down at her hands. "That congratulations might be premature. The principal hasn't made a final decision yet."

"I'm sure you'll get it."

"I really don't know. The interview didn't go well. The principal had a collage on his wall of all the state champion sports teams, and front and center was the picture of your hockey team, the only back-to-back state champs in the school's history, with Matt right there, with his stupid, smiling face. That threw me, and I was distracted all through the interview. I thought I blew it. Even when the principal called to tell me that he had two more candidates to interview but I was still being considered and he would make his decision soon, he sounded doubtful. I need this job. I have to get it."

"You will. Don't worry."

For the rest of the seven blocks to Ben's house, Rod kept the conversation centered on Ben and his son, Jacob. Arielle and Rod shared the title of godparents for the five-year-old, and Jacob was the one topic guaranteed to light up Arielle. She'd always been shy, but art was her passion, and teaching it was one of the few areas where that shyness fell away. Maybe the situation with Matt had stripped her of her confidence there, too.

She turned to him when they reached her stop. "Thanks for walking me."

"Anytime." He reached for her and then paused, arms outstretched. They'd always exchanged hugs in the past, but he'd leave it up to her now. Just as he lowered his arms, hers came up and their forearms collided. And then her soft laugh danced on the breeze.

Eyes sparkling in the porch light, she smiled. "Oops."

"Let's try that again." Rod bent and extended his arms, and Arielle stepped into them like she belonged there.

She smelled like the night and the coffee shop and a hint of something sweet. Her arms wrapped around his waist, soft and small and so good. He rested his cheek against her hair, and the curls teased his skin.

Keeping his arms around her, he pulled back enough to look into her eyes. The laughter had faded. They were serious and thoughtful as her gaze roamed his face. He returned the study, the graceful slope of her nose, her smooth cheeks, pink and shiny lips, then back to her eyes, hoping she'd found what she was looking for. Hoping it was the same thing he wanted.

She slid her fingers from his shoulders to his chest, and he feared she might push him away. "The past eight months have been really hard. And lonely. But I don't know if I'm ready for another relationship."

Disappointment dropped like a guillotine. He eased his arms from her frame but couldn't step back. Not yet. He fought to keep his voice even. "That's fair."

"But I don't know that I'm not ready either." Her gaze darted from his eyes to his chest, and her voice lightened up. "You've really liked me since high school?"

The words didn't make him sound too lame, not when delivered with that touch of wonder to her voice. He returned his hands to her hips, holding on to the hope that she wasn't blowing him off. "Can you blame me?"

"But... I'm just...me."

"There's no just when it comes to you." He took a chance and cupped her cheek. Her face looked so small compared to his large hand.

Her warm fingers caressed his cheek. His breath caught in his lungs, and he fought to maintain his control. He'd thought about this moment for years.

"Ari." He framed her face with his other hand.

She moved in closer and raised onto her toes. Her hand lowered to his chest. Did she feel his heartbeat galloping?

Rod bent further, slowly, pulse pounding, head swimming, senses overwhelmed by the tiny woman in his arms.

Her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted on a soft inhale a second before his lips touched hers.

Soft. Warm. Sweet. And better than he could have imagined. He angled his head, seeking a deeper taste. Arielle's fingers flexed on his shirt, and her tongue answered his tease.

Too soon, she pulled back and lowered her heels to the porch.

The kiss dazed him far more than any alcohol ever had. "Wow. So yeah, we need to do that again."

She smiled but then bit her lip. "I need to think."

Rod combed his fingers through her hair, not ready to end the connection. Needing to think wasn't a no. He released his hands and stepped back. "I'll see you soon."

He waited until she'd gone inside and then walked back to the bar. Being with Arielle felt as right and as natural as playing hockey, as breathing. It was what he'd wanted since his junior year of high school. He'd do anything to convince her to give him a chance.

|  |

---|---|---

# Chapter Two

--------

ROD LIFTED THE WEIGHTS, keeping watch on his form in the mirror. Across the room, Dylan did the same routine, matching his movements and counting out the reps.

"...forty-eight...forty-nine...fifty. Done. Drop 'em."

With a yawn, he glanced at the clock and continued to curl, fighting through the burn. Flying high from the kiss with Arielle, he'd stayed up late catching up with his siblings, then he'd crashed as soon as he'd hit the bed, and slept for ten hours. His body had needed the rest. He could probably have slept longer but skipping a workout wasn't an option. Following his off-season plan as closely as possible was more important. If he played for a new team, that would mean another nutritionist, along with a new training staff. How would someone else tweak his programs for optimum performance?

Dylan walked over, waving his hand in Rod's face. "I said, drop 'em. Time to stretch out and cool down. Where's your brain today?"

"Trying to figure out which teams might still need a goalie."

Dylan tossed him a towel and then grabbed another and rubbed it over his face. "Sorry, bud. I know something good will come up. You had a winning record this season--"

"Yeah, all of the twenty-two games I started in."

"And," Dylan continued without batting an eye, "you're part of the Cup team. You're definitely a contender, so don't worry."

"You don't think I should stay put in New Orleans, do you?" He studied Dylan's face. His brother was two years older, but had been in the league a lot longer, and would tell him the truth.

"With the way you're wording it, and that expression on your face? No way. I know you love your teammates, but you're not happy as a back-up so you won't be happy if you stay. I think testing the waters is smart. You're good enough to be a starter. You'll get an opportunity."

"I hope so." His agent had thought so, too. But Dylan's words left him feeling more settled. When he'd joined the Rage after bouncing around the minors for a few years, they were the league's newest expansion team, and as such, weren't expected to do much. Fast forward three seasons and they'd captured the championship. Defying the odds. Luck had smiled on him once, surely it could happen again--right?

"Better go shower. Mom sent a text. Brunch is at eleven-thirty."

Less than half an hour later, they stood in their parents' living room. His dad came in, holding a mug of coffee. "Right on time. Your mother's been in the kitchen all morning and is insisting we use the fancy plates. I'm recruiting you both to help me with dish duty after we eat."

His mom called out a hello, then rushed into the room, wiping her hands on a tea towel. Rod hugged his dad first, then bent and folded her into a hug.

Coming home had been smart. No need to constantly keep on that media-ready smile, or keep that perennially happy persona of the lovable goalie who was satisfied with only playing a quarter of the season's games. He didn't have to be anything other than himself here.

Mom pulled back. "I made blueberry pancakes, bacon, sweet potato quiche, fruit salad, and Grandma's famous biscuits."

All of that, from a woman who liked sleeping in as late as possible on weekends. "Whoa, cool. And here I would've been fine with just coffee."

Dylan clapped him on the shoulder. "For you, she spends hours in the kitchen and sets the table with the good china. When I stop by, I get cereal or a box of donuts and the everyday dishes."

Rod shrugged. "Are you still showing up and raiding their fridge on a regular basis? That might have something to do with it."

Dylan winked at him and then turned to their mother. "Hey, Mom. You don't drop everything and run over to hug me when I walk in the door."

"Hush. I haven't seen my boy in months." She hugged Rod again, then herded them into the dining room rather than the kitchen. The table was set with the gold-edged plates reserved mainly for holidays. Mom was doing everything short of rolling out an actual red carpet. They were a kitchen table kind of family about three hundred and sixty days of the year.

His family knew him well--the coffee carafe was set in front of his plate. Rod reached for it. "Where's Kelsey?"

"She's on her way, and said to start eating without her." Mom pushed a small bottle across the table. "Rod, I bought that brand of pancake syrup you like."

"Favorite child." Dylan covered the words with a cough, blue eyes twinkling with laughter. He settled into the seat next to Rod and helped himself to the coffee.

Mom ruffled Dylan's dark hair as she walked by. "I love all my children the same."

"That true?" Rod looked at his dad. The toughest hockey player of his era, he was a giant softie where it came to his kids, especially Kelsey. His baby sister had their dad wrapped around her little finger.

His dad grunted and shrugged. "Every parent's favorite child is the one who is sick or the one who is away."

Dylan stabbed his fork through a pancake. "So you're telling me that I need to get traded or injured before I'll get special, made-from-scratch feasts?"

"No need to go that far. You could just come down with a cold." Rod offered the suggestion as he loaded up his plate.

Dylan coughed twice, then added the worst fake sneeze Rod had ever heard.

His mother arched an eyebrow at Dylan. "You're fine. Pass the biscuits."

Rod cracked up and snatched a biscuit as the plate passed by.

It felt good to be home.

The front door opened, followed by footsteps and female voices. He straightened in his chair. Not just Kelsey, but Arielle too. Now the extra place setting made sense.

Kelsey and Arielle came in, carrying white pastry boxes. His sister set hers on the table, then eyed the spread. "Geez, is it some holiday that I don't know about? If I'd known you were making all this, I wouldn't have stopped at the bakery." She rounded the table, bending to hug her parents along the way.

Arielle met his gaze and color rose high in her cheeks. A form-fitting t-shirt the color of coffee and denim shorts faded at the seams made his hands itch to uncover the curves on her petite frame. Was she thinking about that kiss? He sure was. Her mouth looked as soft as he remembered.

Rod nudged the box Arielle had set down. "What did you bring?"

"Chocolate chip biscotti and anisette toast from that Italian bakery on Front Street. An art supply store opened next to it. I needed to pick up some new supplies to finish the mural on the side of the coffee shop."

"I can't wait to see it." He stood and filled a mug with coffee for her, lingering for a second while their fingers brushed, and she murmured her thanks.

"Since you're now playing server, give me a refill." Dylan's voice reminded him they weren't alone.

He passed the pot to his brother, then took his seat across from Arielle and tried to concentrate on eating. Talk turned to the Bedlam, as it always did when his family got together. Dylan played center on the first line for the team, their dad was still involved with the team in various roles--had been ever since his playing days, their mom worked year-round for the team charities, and Kelsey worked in the player services department. He was the odd man out. Playing for the hometown team--his dad's team, his brother's team--had always been a dream, but they had a hot-shot rookie All-Star goalie, so no way was that dream coming true.

"Rod, are you ready for your day with the Cup?" His dad's voice broke into his thoughts. "The things the guys and I did with it back when we won..." Laughing, he shook his head. His father's team had won the Cup when Rod was a baby. He'd heard the stories countless times over the years, and never grew tired of them.

"It's still a week away, but yeah, I'm excited." While some guys went a little crazy with their day, he was planning on keeping his simple.

Dylan grinned. "Remember the time you went bungee-jumping? Think you'll try that again with the trophy?"

"I think the league would freak out if there was a chance I'd somehow drop the Cup, let alone get myself killed, so no."

"How about the summer you spent racing cars at the track? You'd get some great pictures doing that with the three-foot-tall silver championship riding shot-gun." Dad's suggestion made him smile.

"I think I'll keep it low-key."

Arielle set her mug down. "Every member of your team gets a day with the trophy?"

"Yeah. Edwin Motz, the Keeper of the Cup who travels with it everywhere, is supposed to show up around eight in the morning next Sunday. I'm planning on taking it to Ben's coffee shop, then here, then later in the day there's a ceremony at the high school where they're going to retire my number. The principal said he invited all the members of the back-to-back state champs, but I don't know which guys are coming, aside from Ben and Dylan." He had no idea if Matt would show up or how Arielle would react if he did.

She met his gaze and sipped her coffee but didn't comment.

"Anyway, it's mine until midnight." And hopefully, he would be able to hide his frustration at not being allowed a single minute of ice time during the entire playoff run, or how he felt isolated from the win.

"I know Ben will love it if you stop by the shop. So will Jacob."

"Ari, how's Jacob doing?" His mother sent her a warm smile. Everyone loved Jacob. His parents had pretty much adopted him as an honorary grandchild.

"Since his regular babysitter is spending the summer in Florida, I've been helping Ben out with watching him during the day. The kids on the block have been playing street hockey every day. They've let him play a few times, and now Jacob wants to start ice hockey too. My brother signed him up for a team and is looking for secondhand equipment for him."

His dad nodded. "Best to do that and see if he likes it before shelling out the cash for new gear. Hockey is an expensive sport."

Rod dunked a piece of the anisette toast into his coffee. "What position does he want to play?"

"Goalie. Like you."

He grinned, flattered. "Smart kid. The best position."

"For crazy people." Dylan nudged him, laughing. "Give me five minutes with the kid, and I'll convince him that forwards are better."

"Better? Dude, eat something else, you're obviously delusional from hunger." Rod tossed a biscuit at Dylan's head, and his brother caught it with a quick snap of his wrist. "Ari, come over to the house with me after brunch. I kept a lot of my old equipment. Jacob can have it."

"Oh, that's okay, I don't want to bother--"

"You said yourself that Ben wants secondhand. I have the stuff. Jacob might as well use it." He willed her to agree. As soon as he got her alone, they were going to talk about that kiss, and see if she'd had enough time to think about it. He didn't want to rush her, but his line of thinking was, "let's do it again."

Arielle nodded and treated him to another smile. "Thanks."

Rod grinned and grabbed a refill on his coffee. Helping out his best friend was a given. Ben was like a brother to him. And if it gave him more time to spend with Arielle, well, then he'd take any opportunity he could to let her see that she could trust him and he wouldn't hurt her.

|  |

---|---|---

# Chapter Three

--------

ARIELLE FOLLOWED ROD into the sprawling brick house he shared with his brother. She was still dazed by his admission from the night before, and by that kiss that had scorched her senses. Could he really have had a thing for her for as long as he'd claimed? Even with the number of women he probably had interested in him? A number that was undoubtedly higher than the amount who'd hung around Matt in the minors.

She shoved her hands into her back pockets and fought that revulsion twisting her stomach. Matt--the lying, cheating bastard--was history now.

Focusing on the house gave her a moment to clear her thoughts. She'd been there before, tagging along with Kelsey or Ben, but never on her own. The colors were a blend of grays and blues, the furniture sparse but comfortable, and decorations non-existent, except for a few pieces of hockey memorabilia.

Rod turned to her and grinned, and her breath caught in her throat at the way his blue eyes sparked and how his cheeks creased with that sexy smile.

He gestured toward the kitchen. "Coffee?"

No matter that he'd consumed three cups with their brunch. Some things never changed. His love affair with the caffeinated brew was well-known among the hockey community and fans, thanks to the coffee cup decal on his goalie mask, and in any photograph or interview, he always had a cup in hand. He'd also been the first investor in her brother's coffee shop. Thinking about Ben led to thinking about Jacob, and then to the goalie equipment. "You don't have to bother. I can't stay long anyway."

Not that she had plans for afterward, but spending too much time with Rod probably wasn't smart. It made her want things she wasn't sure she was ready for.

"Drinking a cup of coffee doesn't take that much time. I have iced coffee in the fridge. Have some." He grabbed two glasses from the cabinet, then poured black coffee from a pitcher. "You take cream and sugar, right?"

"Extra sweet." She joined him at the counter, hyper-aware of the play of muscles in his arms, and the way his gray shirt hugged his torso, and how tall and strong and capable he looked.

He turned, and his smile winged up at the corner. "You tasted pretty sweet to me last night."

Heat flushed into her cheeks, and she fought the urge to drop her gaze. "Rod."

Rod set the coffees down and shifted closer. "Thinking about last night as much as I am?"

"No." Liar. She backed up until her back pressed against the pantry door.

"No? Then why do you have goosebumps on your skin?"

She rubbed her arms. "It's cold in here."

"Try again. Cold wouldn't make your breath catch."

Cold wouldn't, but awareness would. And boy, was she aware. So aware it wasn't funny. "The front steps were steep?"

His lips twitched. "All four of them? One more chance."

Her gaze landed on the coffees. "Too much caffeine?"

"No such thing." He moved toward her again, eyes gleaming, but she raised her hand, and he stopped in his tracks.

Arielle took one step in his direction. At twenty-seven years old, she should know what she wanted, should be able to articulate it as easily as she spoke when discussing art, but she couldn't, not yet. "I am thinking about last night. A lot. But I'm still not sure what to do about it."

He held her gaze for a moment, and she shivered again under that cool scrutiny. Eventually, he nodded and tucked his hands into his front pockets, then pulled them out again and smiled. "Doctor up your coffee, and then I'll show you the stuff for Jacob."

Iced coffees in hand, he led her down the hall and into a large room filled with old hockey equipment, art supplies and a drafting table, a guitar and an amp, skis, a snowboard, rock climbing gear, and countless other objects. For as long as she'd known him, he'd always gone full throttle into any new idea or hobby, buying the best equipment or supplies right off, and then casting them aside when interest waned. Except for hockey, his passion.

His words from the previous evening made her want more, but what if he cast her aside, too?

As far as she knew, he'd never dated anyone for long. And his interest in hobbies ranged from a one-time occurrence to three weeks or three months, tops.

Her ex had promised forever but never delivered, stringing her along in case a better option opened up. Rod, for all his declarations and soul-stirring kisses, didn't know where he'd end up playing in another month's time. She'd learned the hard way that she had to protect herself first. No matter how much she wanted him, giving in wouldn't be smart.

She threaded her way through the storage room of interests-past, sipping the cold coffee in hopes it would fill the hollowness in her gut.

"I don't have old skates. Jacob should have a new pair anyway." Rod picked up some child-sized goalie pads. "These are pretty beat up, and so is that old hockey stick. I'll get him something better."

"They're fine."

"No. Not for him." He rubbed his hand through his hair. "The more that I look at this old equipment, the more battered and worn it is. Nostalgia clearly worked as camouflage. But look at the scratches and worn spots and ripped seams. Come on, we'll take a ride and pick up some new equipment."

"Rod...really, this stuff is fine. We don't even know if he's going to like playing."

"He's Ben's son. He'll like playing." He carefully stacked the equipment in the corner, then turned to her with the light of battle in his gaze. "Look, Ben's busting his ass providing for Jacob. If I want to buy my godson some hockey equipment, I can."

She couldn't argue with that, especially considering that she pulled the godmother card with Ben whenever she wanted to give something to Jacob. "All right."

A victorious smile flashed across his face, then he bent and kissed her. A firm, quick brush of his lips that seemed to surprise him as much as it surprised her. But then he eased away and picked up his coffee. "Good. Let's finish these and then go."

They spent over an hour in the sporting goods store while he examined equipment and made selections. Several people recognized Rod and wanted pictures or autographs. Arielle hung back while he fielded questions ranging from winning the Cup to what type of hockey program he'd recommend for kids to what brand of equipment he preferred. She'd never been comfortable in the spotlight and envied Rod's ease at being the center of attention. He handled himself well, confident and cracking jokes, but the way he spoke to each person--the caring and attention--pulled her in.

Then, he literally pulled her in--clasping her hand and drawing her to his side. His other hand hefted the bags bulging with goalie pads, pants, skates, stick, and a mask. "There are a few other stores we can hit. I want to pick up a new jersey for him."

"He already has jerseys. A Cajun Rage one with your name and number and a Bedlam one with Dylan's name and number."

"Well, now he'll get one that has his own name on the back." He gently tugged her hand when she didn't move. "Come on, we're supposed to spoil him."

Beneath his generosity, something quiet and unsteady lurked in his gaze, needing to be soothed. She couldn't turn away. "Why not? Maybe I'll get him some new art supplies too."

She needed to watch her pennies, but something small for Jacob could factor into her budget. Her student loans had left her with a mountain of debt, the car loan she'd needed to take out hadn't helped, and the fact that she was still crashing at Ben's because she couldn't afford her own place, added stress on top of stress. The job at the high school had to come through. She wasn't sure what she'd do otherwise. She'd been on other interviews for various positions but no one wanted to give her a chance.

"Now you're talking." Rod's voice broke into her thoughts. His smile and presence instantly lifted her mood. He pulled her into the next shop. Then another. Then two more.

Arielle had to admit that shopping with Rod was fun. Was that all this would be--a whirlwind of sexy fun until he headed back to New Orleans or to some other corner of the States or Canada?

She wasn't foolish enough to think just a few weeks would be enough, or would be smart. After all the drama with her ex, she didn't need more from Rod, no matter how right it felt when he'd kissed her.

* * * * *

ROD HELD THE DOOR FOR Arielle, then followed her into his house. He set the bags filled with hockey equipment and other random presents for Jacob by the door. Dylan's car wasn't in the driveway, and the house was quiet.

Arielle held the bag from the art supply store in her hand. "I should go."

"Or, you could stay for a cup of coffee." He didn't want to press her for a decision, didn't want to push, but damn it, he wanted to spend time with her that didn't include sales associates, other shoppers, or navigating through aisles while toting bags of hockey equipment.

Her soft laughter filled the hallway. "Exactly how many cups do you drink a day?"

"I don't keep count. A lot? If not coffee, then how about dinner?"

"Well..." Her stomach rumbled, and she flushed and pressed her hand to it.

"Stay. Eat with me. I hate eating alone."

For a moment, while her eyes darted from the bag to the floor to him, he thought she might leave, but then she set down her bags. "All right. I can help you cook."

"Great." He led her into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. Stocked full. Dylan must have gone shopping. He pulled out salmon and asparagus and then grabbed orzo from the pantry. "Can you handle the salad? I'll be right back."

While Arielle sliced vegetables, he headed into his bedroom and pulled one of his most prized possessions from his suitcase and slipped it into his pocket. Maybe it would help her understand and trust in his feelings.

Patting his pocket, he made his way back to the kitchen. Arielle looked over and smiled, and seeing her there filled his soul with so much longing that an ache formed in his chest. They worked well together, cooking the meal, and then lingered over eating it, sitting together while the lazy summer evening stretched out before them. Arielle's gaze held his for longer and longer periods without her cheeks blushing and she laughed a lot and spoke easily and frequently, but she still seemed to hold part of herself back. Rod felt that prized possession burning a hole in his pocket.

After they'd finished a dessert of decaf coffee and a shared slice of an apple crumble that his brother probably had intended for himself, he pulled the paper from his pocket. Heart racing, he unfolded the rectangle that had accompanied him on every move he'd made in his hockey career. "You drew this for me years ago. You might not even remember it."

Eyes growing wide, she slowly shook her head. "No way. No way do you still have that."

"Yes, way." The sketch of him in his high school hockey uniform, mask pushed up on top of his head, standing in front of the net, was wrinkled and worn thin at the creases. "Right after you drew this, we won the state championship. I've kept it with me ever since. I've always thought it was good luck."

"I can't believe you kept it." She traced her finger down the side of the paper. "I was so embarrassed that day when you caught me sketching you. I made up the excuse about needing to draw live action models for my art class project."

"That wasn't true?" Intrigued, he leaned in closer, studying her face.

Her shoulders lifted in a shrug, and her cheeks flushed pink. "I was bored waiting for Ben to finish hockey practice and drive me home, and you were so cute that I couldn't help myself. My fingers itched to sketch you."

"Cute, hmm?" Thrilled, he laid the paper on the counter and then shifted closer.

"But you were a big time senior, and I was a shy little sophomore. You were always nice to me, but I didn't think you saw me as anything other than Ben's little sister."

"I told you last night that I had a thing for you back then."

"Yeah. And the grown up version of me still finds that hard to believe."

In an instant, he stood beside her. He cupped her small shoulders in his hands. "Does she? I'm more than happy to show her I still feel that way."

"Rod... Wait." Arielle's fingertips touched his chest, right over his heart.

He tamped down his desire. "What's wrong?"

"This is...huge. For me, I mean. I'm not... After what happened with--"

"Don't say his name." Rod pressed his finger to her lips. "He's not a part of this. We are. And it's huge for me too, Ari. I don't know where I'm going to end up playing next season, but I do know I want a chance with you."

"But you're only going to be here for a few weeks, then it's off to New Orleans or a brand new city. What happens then?"

The uncertainty and the longing in her gaze pulled at him. "We make it work. You're a priority. And I don't cheat."

"I want to believe you...but..." She bit her lip and Rod had zero problem filling in that but. Matt had ripped a hole in her confidence, in her trust, and in her heart.

"Then I'll just have to convince you." He leaned in and brushed his lips over the soft fullness of hers. "You've known me for years. You know how important Ben and Jacob are to me. No way would I hurt you."

A long breath fluttered out of her parted lips. "I'm tougher now than I used to be."

The wounded vulnerability in her gaze and the brave jutting of her chin sliced into him. He hated Matt even more for making Arielle raise guards around her heart.

"I'll prove it to you. By the time I sign with a new team, you'll believe me. Just give me that chance." The words were confident and sure, and he hoped she fully believed the sincerity in his pledge. He cradled her sweet face gingerly between his palms.

She caught hold of his wrists and her eyes bored into him. Was she trying to see into his soul?

After a long moment, she nodded. "I'll try."

Relief swept through him, and Rod wrapped his arms around her, riding out the sensation. His pulse pounded like he'd downed a triple espresso. Having Arielle in his arms was a perfect fit. Better than making any game-saving goal. He lowered his head to hers, transfixed by her deep, deep green eyes. "Thank you."

He cupped her jaw and groaned as her soft fingers traced patterns on his back. When her eyes closed, he crushed his lips against hers. Then groaned again as the flavor of coffee blended with Arielle's own sweetness. She sighed into his mouth as he sought a deeper taste.

Her hand slipped into his hair, tugging at the strands, and she pressed her soft curves into his body. Her sudden impatience made him rough. He fisted his hand in her hair, and his other hand traveled to her hip and then slipped under her shirt. He skimmed his fingers along the soft skin of her waist and ascended higher to caress her lace-covered breast.

On a sharp intake of air, she snuggled closer and kissed his jaw. The sweetness she possessed demanded that he keep things light and take it slow. The flash of headlights turning into the driveway reminded him they were in the middle of the kitchen he shared with his brother, and that Dylan and possibly Kelsey would be walking in the door any minute. And, the friendship he shared with her brother meant they needed to talk to Ben before things went further--not asking for permission, but just a heads up.

Reluctant to stop, he gave in to the need to kiss her again and then eased his hand down and fixed her shirt.

Holding her and having a chance with her was more thrilling than when he'd held the Cup.

He was determined to change her mind before it was time for him to join a new hockey team. He'd pull out all the stops to make her see that he wouldn't ever let her down.

|  |

---|---|---

# Chapter Four

--------

THE SWEET NOTES AND soft strains of an acoustic guitar flowed through the coffee shop. Arielle wiped down empty tables while Ben and one of his college-aged hires took care of the last of the lunch crowd. Weekdays weren't as busy as the weekend, but Mondays at Jolt were always packed, and she hadn't had a moment to think about how to tell Ben that she and Rod were sort of dating. Rod was supposed to stop by with the hockey equipment for Jacob, and he thought that both of them telling Ben together was the best option.

As a lull finally allowed her time for her first break of the day, she couldn't think about anything else. Ben was pretty easy-going, and likely wouldn't care, but he'd been more protective since the whole debacle with Matt, so maybe he wouldn't be enthusiastic.

At the table to her left, Jacob colored with the markers she'd given him that morning, his half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich abandoned for artistic inspiration.

She sat beside him and studied the misshapen stick figures and coffee cups not drawn to scale. "Sign that one for me, and I'll put it in my classroom."

"Okay, but I can only print." Jacob labored over the letters in his name. Then he pushed the paper toward her and glanced to her right. His mouth dropped open and he jumped from the table and ran toward the door. "Uncle Rod."

Arielle turned, and her pulse thudded.

Rod set the shopping bags on the floor and picked him up. "How you doing, buddy?"

"Good. I can spell cappuccino and espresso. And Aunt Ari got me new markers. And I start kindergarten soon." Jacob wriggled down and ran back to his seat.

Ben grabbed Rod in a half-hug, half-back slap. "Hey, man. Good to see you."

"Been too long. The place looks great." Rod grinned and stepped back. His gaze traveled the shop until it landed on her.

She walked toward him as calmly as she could while butterflies danced in her stomach and awareness skittered up her spine.

Before she could open her mouth and say anything to her brother, Rod bent to kiss her. Firm lips settled over hers and sent her heartbeat soaring.

Ben cleared his throat. "Um, guys? Something you want to tell me?"

Rod drew back and slipped his arm around her shoulder. "We just started seeing each other."

"No kidding." Brows raised, Ben glanced from her to Rod and back again, his expression as serious as Arielle had ever seen it. "If either of you hurts the other, I won't be happy. So, don't fuck up." Then he smiled, and the dark look faded. "It's about time Ari dated a good guy."

Leaning into Rod's side, she raised her hand. "I'm standing right here."

"Yeah, I know." Ben tapped her shoulder. "You've been in an odd mood these last couple days. Now I know why."

"You're okay with this?" She wanted him to be. Ben had been amazing, letting her move in when she'd needed a place to stay, and giving her a shoulder to cry on. He hadn't been Matt's biggest fan. At all. Even early on. But he loved Rod like a brother, depended on their friendship, and if that got screwed up, she'd feel awful.

"Like I said, just don't hurt each other. Heads will roll if that happens." He pinned them both with the no-nonsense stare he reserved for when Jacob got out of control, then gestured to the front counter. "Rod, what can I get you?"

Rod made a show of studying the chalkboard menu. Like there was any question about what he'd order. "I'll have the Fraser Freeze."

No surprise there. The iced coffee with two shots of espresso, named for Rod, complete with a wooden stirrer shaped like a hockey stick, was the first signature drink Ben had created.

Rod brought the bags over to Jacob's table. "Aunt Ari and I picked up some things for you."

He pulled out the goalie stick, then the mask, then the pads and gloves and skates, and then the Bedlam jersey with JACOB stitched on the back.

Jacob's eyes grew wider and wider. "Dad, look."

Ben placed Rod's drink on the opposite side of the table. "Dude, I appreciate it, but that's too much."

"He needed equipment."

"But if he hates playing--"

"Dad, I won't. I wanna be a hockey player." Jacob hugged the mask to his chest. "I'm gonna draw a coffee cup on this, just like Uncle Rod has on his."

Arielle smiled at that, and Rod's grin at Jacob's words stretched her smile even wider.

He picked up the brown marker, but Rod's hand closed over his hand. "I don't think markers will work, buddy. If you want, I can take it to the place that put the cup on mine."

"No." Ben shook his head. "That's too much. He's five. He doesn't need a fancy design company painting his mask."

"I can do it." Arielle ruffled Jacob's hair to stop his pout and then held out her hands for the mask, mapping the project and how the finished picture would look. "I have paints at home that will work."

She'd done all of the paintings that lined the coffee shop's walls, plus the mural on the outside wall, along with the logo and marketing materials. A small coffee cup on a kid's mask would be easy.

Rod's fingers brushed the back of her hand. "If I'd known that was an option, I would've had you do mine."

Ben blew out a breath and he raked his hand through his hair. "It's going to take some time to get used to seeing you guys like this."

"Better get used to it." Rod winked at Arielle.

"I will. It's a good thing. Just, man... Don't ever do anything that'll make me have to change the menu and tell customers the Frazer Freeze is no longer available." The edge came back into Ben's voice, and he stared at Rod, clouds forming in his brown eyes.

"Threatening a man with his own signature drink?" Rod's words were full of humor, but his gaze was direct. "Don't worry. I'll never intentionally hurt Arielle."

Her throat thickened at the way Ben stood up for her and the passion in Rod's gaze as he made his promise. Clearing her throat, she stood and waved her arms. "Again, I'm right here."

Both men looked at her, and then Ben's posture and features relaxed again. He glanced at Rod's half-empty cup. "Let me get you a refill."

He walked behind the counter and called out for Jacob to finish his sandwich.

Rod slipped his arm around her waist. "See, that went fine."

He kissed her temple and then bent and helped Jacob try on his skates and goalie pads.

Arielle smiled down at the picture they made. Being in a relationship with Rod had the potential to hurt more than just her if things went south. Her relationship with Kelsey and his relationships with Ben and Jacob would also be affected, and possibly ruined. She wasn't naive enough to believe they'd come through unscathed.

She rubbed her arms against the goosebumps that rose on her skin. Being with Rod felt so right. Hopefully, she wasn't making the biggest mistake of her life.

* * * * *

ROD JOGGED DOWN THE hall and snatched his ringing cell phone from the bed. Reports of Colorado's goalie breaking his arm and leg in a motorcycle crash meant their team was on the hunt for a quick replacement. It was a shame about the other goalie's accident, but he couldn't do anything about that. In any case, he'd be glad to fill in. Hopefully, his agent was calling with good news. "Yo, Ernie."

"Rod, how are you?" Ernie's voice was calm. Too calm.

Not good.

"I'm anxious to hear the news. So, am I heading to the Rocky Mountains?"

"They went with Sean Hightower."

"Hightower? Seriously?" Rod sat down hard and picked at the corner of his pillow. "There aren't many teams left, Ern. I really thought I'd have something by now."

Ernie's sigh carried loud through the speaker. "Look... Teams are hesitant to sign you. You had a lot of good guys around you on the Rage, including some of the best defensemen in the league. You've never had to carry a team yourself. And some think you're asking too much money because you were a part of a Cup-winning team."

"I've been busting my ass all summer. Damn it, I'm a good goalie. I wouldn't be asking for a shot if I didn't think I deserved it. What about the National Cup tournament?"

"Again, you were surrounded by great players. And, one of your performances wasn't stellar."

"Yeah, one. Only one. I had food poisoning. But I know. No excuses." One bad game was going to keep him locked out of a new chance?

Goddamn it.

He pushed off the bed and paced the room. "So, basically, they think I'm just a bunch of hype. No substance."

Shit. This sucked so bad.

"We know you're worthy of a starting job. Hang in there. I'm still making some calls. I'll be in touch."

"Thanks." He ended the call and tossed the phone on the bed. The hollowness in his gut hurt. No one was willing to give him a chance? The idea of going back to the Rage didn't make him feel any better. As much as he loved the city and his teammates, he was tired of riding the bench.

He walked over to the trophies lining his wall. Maybe he hadn't ever had to carry an entire team. Throughout his career, he'd been blessed to play with amazing athletes. But damn it, he was part of that success too. Having great defensemen aside, he'd still been needed to stop the fucking puck from going into the fucking net. And he'd done that job damn well.

Desperate to escape his own thoughts and needing to vent, he wandered through the house looking for Dylan. He found him in the garage, loading hockey equipment into his car. "Hey. Where are you off to?"

Dylan shut the car door and smiled. "I'm getting together at the practice facility to skate with some of the guys. What's wrong? You look like someone just snapped your favorite hockey stick."

"I heard from Ernie. There isn't as much interest in me as we'd thought there would be." He rearranged random objects on the utility shelf as he relayed his conversation with Ernie. Anger and frustration and embarrassment and desperate hopelessness swarmed in him like a mass of hornets.

"Shit. I'm sorry." Dylan crossed to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hang in there. You're supposed to be on top of the world with your day with the Cup almost here. Put this out of your mind for now and just enjoy."

Easy for Dylan to say. He was the first-line center for his team and had tons of ice time and tons of opportunities to contribute to his team. Rod took a step back toward the door to the house. "Yeah. Well, I won't hold you up any longer. Have fun."

"Why don't you come?"

"Really?" Nothing sounded better that getting on the ice with Dylan. They hadn't done that together in far too long. His mood inched toward improving. "Are you sure the guys won't mind?"

"It'll just be Kreider, Celek, and Forsberg today. Oh, and LeClair. We figured having one member of the coaching staff was a smart idea. Anyway, come. We could use a good goalie."

His brother's words lightened his mood even more. "Okay. You twisted my arm. Let me grab my stuff."

The smell of the Bedlam practice facility was the same as it had been years ago when he'd hung out there as a kid, watching his dad. Rod followed Dylan down the hall to the locker room. Pulling on the pads and equipment was the same as always. But this was the first time he was facing off against Bedlam players on their home turf.

He shook hands with Jon Kreider, Vince Forsberg, and Anton Celek. He'd met them all before. Anton and Jon were Dylan's line mates, and Vince was one of the league's best defensemen.

Then Ken LeClair joined them. "We've been taping these practices all summer. Analysis, just like the regular season. We're going to kick some ass this year."

"It's cool you guys have been getting together on and off all summer."

Dylan bounced a puck off the end of his stick. "We're pretty ticked that the Spartans booted us out of the Conference Finals."

"It's a good thing your team kicked their ass, kid." Celek nodded at Rod.

Kid? Really? He was what, three years younger than Celek? Then again, Celek had come into the league as a nineteen-year-old rookie, so the twelve-year veteran probably felt ancient. "Kicking their ass was our pleasure. Winning the championship was a bonus."

"The last time the Bedlam won the championship was twenty-seven years ago." Kreider pointed to a plaque marking the occasion on the wall. "That's too damn long."

Rod exchanged a glance with Dylan. Their dad had been on that team. Rod had been too little to remember it, but Dylan did. His brother rolled his shoulder and put on his helmet. "That's extra motivation for us to win it again."

They went through some skating drills and then LeClair called for him to get in net.

Rod skated into the crease and set his water bottle on top of the net, and then faced the guys. Stick in hand, he crouched and waited, analyzing Kreider's position as the player skated toward him.

His agent's words rang in his head. Not special? He'd show them.

Kreider skated in fast, flipping the puck from his forehand to backhand to forehand again, then spun around and shot.

Rod kicked out and then dove. The puck slammed into his glove.

Kreider skated to a stop in front of the crease. "Damn. Even Pavel has trouble blocking that one."

He shrugged at the mention of the team's All-Star hot-shot goalie but gave a mental cheer at having bested him.

Dylan grinned and nudged Celek, and both lined up at the blue line and then took off for the face-off circles on Rod's right and left. Off-balance, Rod scrambled to get ready, checking the players' skate, knee, and shoulder positions.

Shit.

Double, simultaneous slapshots.

He pushed out as hard as he could to the top of the crease, blocked Dylan's puck with his pad, then slammed his body to the opposite side of the net and nabbed Celek's puck with his glove.

"No freaking way." Celek shook his head. "Why the hell are you not on our team?"

After that, the guys kept firing on him one shot after another, a non-stop volley of pucks. Then they worked on passing drills and every so often, Dylan would try to confuse him by sending an extra puck rolling his way.

At the end of the practice, Rod was sweaty and happier than ever. He sucked down water and joined the guys at the players' bench, and accepted high-fives and back slaps from Dylan and his teammates.

LeClair shook his hand. "I knew there was talent in your family, but damn." A low whistle escaped his lips, and his shook his head. "I hope you'll join us again."

"I'd like that." More than anything. "You guys are awesome. Kept me on my toes."

Celek patted his back again. "You're always welcome, kid. Come to our next one. We'll have more guys in town too."

"Pavel's supposed to be back by then. I finally heard from him last night." Forsberg's words punctured a hole in Rod's happiness.

He fought to keep the smile on his face. If their goalie was returning, they wouldn't need him. He moved closer to Dylan, closer to the locker room, closer to escape.

LeClair turned to Forsberg. "How is Pavel? I haven't heard from him all summer."

"Really happy. His wife just found out she's pregnant."

"He was pretty homesick last season. I hope that won't happen again."

"I'm sure that'll go away now that he's had his first season under his belt." Dylan slung his arm over Rod's shoulder. "Mintner will still be away, though, so we could use you in the other net. That'll let us have a scrimmage."

"That's right." LeClair nodded and grinned like he was planning something mischievous. "I'd love to surprise our other players and throw you in net."

"Going up against new guys keeps me sharp. I'll be here." He fought to keep his tone professional and not go nuts with excitement. "Hey, can we review the tape now?"

Kreider groaned, Celek laughed, and Forsberg tapped his stick against Rod's pads. "You're just like your brother. Watching film is up next. Right after we talk Coach into buying us lunch."

LeClair smirked at the defenseman. "Just for that, Rod gets to pick the delivery place."

Dylan moaned. "Don't let him pick. We'll end up with ten coffees and no actual food."

Rod followed the laughing group off the ice, then turned and gave one last look to the practice rink. He'd give anything to play here.

Even if it was just one more practice--he'd take it.

"Rod, let's go," Dylan called out to him.

He turned toward the locker room. His future with the league was out of his hands. He could only hope he'd get the chance he wanted.

He didn't want to think about what would happen if he didn't.

|  |

---|---|---

# Chapter Five

--------

ARIELLE LOVED KELSEY's apartment in downtown Buffalo. Her building looked out over Lake Erie, but the apartment faced the city skyline. The peaceful hideaway had been her haven those first few days after she'd left Matt. With a groan, she sat on the couch and sipped from her glass of wine. They'd put in an hour at the gym on the ground floor and her muscles ached in that good, well-used way.

She tugged the fleece blanket with the Bedlam's logo off the back of the couch and draped it over her legs. "Rod said he had a good time practicing with Dylan and the Bedlam players yesterday."

Kelsey topped off their drinks. "I know. I heard an earful from him last night. Then got the same story from Dylan's point of view this morning. I'm glad they had fun. I just wish Roddy would get a shot with someone."

"He still has time, right?"

"Well, yeah. But I don't think many teams need a starter at this point unless there's a freak accident like with the goalie from Colorado."

"Will he go back to New Orleans if he doesn't hear from another team?" Rod would be so disappointed.

"I guess so. We'll have to see what happens." Then Kelsey smiled and tucked her legs up underneath her. "Any word from the principal about the job?"

"Nothing yet. But he promised to make a decision by next week. I'm nervous. It's the only full-time art position available in the Holiday and Buffalo school districts. The part-time positions are all filled, so I don't know what I'm going to do if I don't get it."

"I'm sorry you're having such a hard time finding something. I wish I could help you."

She swallowed another mouthful of wine to blanket the worry swirling in her stomach. The money she'd earned as a substitute teacher since returning home to Holiday and her income from the coffee shop weren't enough to cover all of the payments. She needed full-time work. Or hell, part-time work even if that meant holding three jobs at once. But no one wanted to hire her. She'd tried temp agencies, job fairs, and talking to recruiters. No luck. "Anyway, the principal is going to be at the ceremony they're having for Rod at the high school. I have to make sure I make a good impression. It's my last chance to convince him to choose me."

"If he doesn't choose you, he's an idiot."

"I'm glad you're in my corner. I know how hesitant he was, after seeing how many different districts I'd worked in over the years while I followed Matt from minor league club to minor league club. He didn't ask if I was married or anything personal like that, but I knew he was curious. I think he was worried that I'd only be here for a year and then be up and gone and following my man off to another team in another city, so I volunteered that I'd moved back home for good. Landing a full-time teaching position is hard. I can't risk anything that might lose me this job."

"I'll be at the ceremony, so I'll send happy "pick Arielle" vibes your way if I see you talking to him." Kelsey studied the wine swirling in her glass. After a moment, she looked up. "I don't want to bring up unhappy things, but what if Matt shows up at there?"

Her stomach soured at the thought. "That would be a disaster for me. I don't know if I could keep myself from slapping him. But I don't think he will. He was supposed to play in Russia again this year too. Their season is just getting started now. He wouldn't be able to get away to come home for this."

"Thank God." Kelsey raised her glass. "Because if he comes near you, I'll cut off his balls."

Arielle burst out laughing. "Kels."

"Okay, not literally. But figuratively, I'm all over it."

"I appreciate that. You're a good friend."

"I'm the best friend. I always have your back."

"You are, and I know." She toasted Kelsey. Her best friend truly did have her back. Kelsey was the only one who knew all the details about Matt's indiscretions. Things she hadn't been able to tell her brother...

Matt had bedded so many women. And she'd been completely unaware until one had shown up at his hockey game, pregnant and demanding money. Then the facade of their relationship had unraveled. He had no intention of marrying her, couldn't bear the thought of sleeping with the same person for the rest of his life, and only kept her around because he didn't want to go to a new city alone.

God, that still stung. And the sheer number he'd admitted to, and the fact that it had happened during the entirety of their relationship had stung even more. Getting tested afterward, because he'd admitted he hadn't always remembered to be careful, had been one of the scariest experiences of her life. Thank God she'd had Kelsey and Ben there to help her through. Thank God she was okay.

Arielle bit her lip. She'd have to ask, especially since Kelsey hadn't brought it up. "You're okay with Rod and me?"

"Are you kidding? I think it's adorable. I always wondered if you two would somehow end up together."

After sputtering her sip of wine, Arielle leaned against the couch cushion. "Really?"

"Your eyes threw sparks when you'd see each other. It wasn't my place to interfere, so I didn't. But it's cool it's worked out this way."

A knock at the door saved Arielle from responding. She filed away Kelsey's words for later.

"Well, look who's here." Kelsey threw the door open and then stepped back, and Rod and Dylan entered the room.

Rod smiled at Arielle, handed a grocery bag to his sister, and then came right over and sat beside her. "I heard you were hanging out."

"Hi." She snuggled in under his arm. His lips against hers, and his hand playing with the ends of her hair sent tingles from her scalp to her toes.

"We were." Kelsey sighed and closed the door. "At least you brought wine with you."

"And popcorn. And nachos." Dylan grinned and held up another bag. "We know better than to show up empty-handed."

"If you're crashing a party, you'd better bring something. It's polite." Kelsey nudged his arm. "The beer you liked last time is still in the fridge. Help me get the food out."

After Dylan and Kelsey had disappeared into the kitchen, Arielle twisted toward Rod. "Did you guys have a good time hanging out with Ben and Jacob today?"

"We hit the arcade and the pool, and then Jacob wanted to take a turn beating all of us at video games. When we left, he was begging Ben for more bedtime stories. Our godson is a pretty persuasive kid." He ran his fingers over the blanket covering her thighs. "It's soft."

His hand felt good, and she leaned further into his side. "That's nice."

"Yeah?" He smiled, a sexy almost wicked smile, and changed the pattern he traced. "I can do so much more. Come home with me tonight?"

Her mouth went dry, and she licked parched lips. Rod dipped his finger into her wine glass. He painted the liquid onto her lips and then lowered his head and slowly licked it off.

His mouth covered her low moan. Kelsey and Dylan's voices grew louder and closer. Rod took her glass from her hand and raised it to his lips. Then he shot her a look filled with heat. "I think it tastes better the other way."

"Me too." Her whisper was covered by his siblings' chatter. As they came into the room, she told herself to pull away from Rod, but her body didn't want to listen. "And, I will come home with you."

Dylan set down the tray laden with snacks and then switched on the TV. On screen, was a commercial for an outdoors store. "I remember the time a few years ago when Rod and I went camping and fishing with the guys from my team and he bought out the entire outdoors store for a two-night stay."

"Not the entire store. We needed fishing rods and all the gear if we were going to do it right."

"Sure." Laughing, Dylan shook his head. "Tell me, is that stuff still in the storage room?"

"Yeah. Back corner, maybe? Why, do you want to try it out again? I'll go."

"I was thinking of taking a day trip before the season starts. You in?"

"Why not?" Rod kept up that rhythmic stroke of his thumb along her knee and Arielle shivered.

Dylan glanced her way. "I'm bunking on Kelsey's couch tonight. We're going to stay up late and watch monster movies."

From the way Kelsey's eyebrows winged up, this was the first she'd heard of it. She exchanged a glance with her eldest brother, then her gaze darted to Arielle and Rod. Rod just grinned and then his hand tightened on Arielle's thigh. Cheeks heating, she picked up the wine glass again. Dylan's subtle announcement had been for her benefit.

"Hold on." Kelsey tossed a piece of popcorn at Dylan. "I'll have a movie marathon, but we're watching that period drama series that I wanted to see."

"No way. How about we compromise. Action?"

She folded her arms across her chest. "Musicals."

"Comedy?"

"Documentary."

Rod stood and held out his hand, and pulled Arielle to her feet. "Let's get out of here. I have a feeling this debate will take a while."

The siblings were laughing as they tossed out and vetoed more and more sub-genres.

Arielle set her glass in the kitchen, and then followed Rod to the door and made her goodbyes.

Heat blanketed her skin when they entered the parking garage, and their footsteps echoed off the concrete. Rod's car was parked nearby. He opened the car door for her, and then tossed her gym bag onto the backseat. "Want to take a drive?"

"Sure."

They drove only a short distance and parked on the waterfront. Arielle leaned against the headrest and sighed. "It's such a nice night."

"How much wine did you have?" He laced their fingers together.

"Only enough for a mild buzz."

He drew her close. "I thought about you a lot today. And tonight. You're one of Jacob's favorite topics of conversation."

"You are, too. It's always Uncle Rod this, and Uncle Rod that." She traced her fingers over the hard muscles of his forearm.

Rod lowered his head, and his teeth scraped against her neck, and she lost track of her thoughts.

Twisting toward him, she tangled her hands in his hair and then moaned when his hand skimmed up her side and cupped her breast. His thumb stroked her nipple to a peak, and his lips and teeth continued their journey across her neck and collarbone.

Gasping at the sensation, she titled her head for better access. "I want you."

He slowly sucked on the sensitive spot by her ear and then lifted his head and stared at her with a hooded gaze. "Yeah. Me too. So damn much."

A car horn sounded in the distance. Arielle glanced out the window. Others cars were parked close enough that she could see inside them and enough people were strolling along the path, making her blush and pull away.

Rod eased back into his seat. "But not here. I'm not sharing you with anyone."

Sharing.

At once, her thoughts flipped to Matt. And burning desire ran cold.

What if Rod found her lacking too?

She stayed quiet on the twenty-minute drive back to Holiday, and Rod's home.

He drew her through the garage door and into the kitchen. "Can I get you anything?"

Shaking her head, she wrapped her arms around her middle.

He crossed to her. "You were really quiet during the drive back. We don't have to do anything if you're not ready. I can take you back to Ben's, or you can sleep in the guest room."

"It's not that." She stared at the wood floor. "I'm just nervous. I... He said I wasn't enough for him."

"Bullshit."

The word flew out of Rod's mouth so fast and so hard that she looked up, startled.

Rod's blue eyes blazed hot and intensified the thunderous expression clouding his face. "It's not your fault he couldn't keep his dick in his pants."

"I know that... I do... But..." Cheeks on fire, she looked away. Damn it, she shouldn't have said anything.

Rod's arms wrapped around her and he drew her back against his chest. His lips pressed to her hair. "He's an immature idiot."

"I agree. And I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring him up. I don't want thoughts of him to ruin this."

He turned her until she faced him. "Trust me, you're enough. Why do you think I haven't been able to get you out of my head all these years?"

She'd trusted Matt, had loved him, and he'd broken her heart and fractured something deep within her soul. "I'm scared that once we do this, you'll think the same thing he did."

"No way." Rod cradled her face in his hand. "I'll just have to convince you."

She leaned into his palm as his other hand came up to stroke her hair. She wanted to believe him and to believe that he'd still want her afterward. "I wasn't interested in anyone since that happened. Not until I saw you at the bar. It's as if something clicked inside me that night."

"If it hadn't then, I would've waited for you. There is no one else, Arielle. No one who's made me feel the way you do."

She took a breath and then took a chance. "Then show me."

* * * * *

ROD BENT LOW AND TOUCHED his lips to Arielle's. A kiss of promise. He'd wanted this moment, this experience, this woman for years. Rushing wasn't an option. He'd savor, and show her just how things were supposed to be when two people actually gave a damn about each other.

Part of him wanted to hunt down Matt and beat the hell out of him. Arielle hadn't gone into much detail, but thanks to Ben, he knew far too much.

On a low growl, he tossed thoughts of Matt aside. Arielle was all that mattered. He linked his hand with hers and together, they walked to his bedroom.

He switched on the bedside light, then drew her into his arms. Soft, small curves molded to his frame, reminding him again of how delicately she was formed.

She rose onto her toes and lifted her head toward his. No way could he resist that mouth. He slanted his lips over hers, soaking up the faint flavor of the wine. He could get drunk off of her kisses.

Her hands slipped up his arms, then grabbed onto his shoulders as the kiss went deeper and his concentration splintered.

He needed more. He gripped the edge of her tank top and made sure his knuckles grazed her skin as he raised the material. She rewarded him with a sigh.

The shirt ended up on the floor, and then the blood rushed out of his head at the image before him. Arielle's small breasts, covered in a peach-colored bra as soft as satin. His fingers cupped and teased and her head fell back, exposing the long column of her throat.

He lowered his head and feasted there, kisses and nips and long strokes of his tongue.

Arielle's hands dug into his hair and then directed his head lower. He sank to his knees and trailed kisses to her breasts. Her scent intensified, and desire surged faster and hotter. God, he had to taste her. He flicked the bra straps off her shoulders and pulled the cups down. His lips explored the soft skin, and then his tongue followed the same path, tasting the sweetness. Urged on by her gasps and sighs, he scraped his teeth over her nipple.

Arielle moaned, and her hips rocked against him. His cock throbbed in his jeans, and he clamped one hand on her hip and returned his lips to her breast. The fingers on his other hand mimicked the movements of his mouth, pinching and tugging and caressing until the strength in Arielle's fingers threatened to yank out his hair.

When he raised his gaze, she crooked her finger. "Come back up here."

He stood and then she tugged his shirt up his torso. Rod yanked it over his head and tossed it aside and then hissed as her nails scraped along his chest and down his stomach. The sting was perfect, and he hardened even more.

Emerald eyes watched him. Although darker from passion, they were still a bit too clear, still too nervous for his liking. He didn't want her second-guessing herself. He wanted her so lost in the moment that she didn't care about anything except how good they were making each other feel.

He slid one hand into her hair and fisted it there and then traced his other hand down her torso to the seam of her shorts. "Hey, it's just us. You and me. And we have all night. No rushing."

She nodded. "Kiss me?"

He obliged while she writhed against the tease of his fingers. When mists clouded her gaze, he eased her shorts down and helped her step out of them. The satin riding low on her hips was the same shade as the bra that still rested just beneath her breasts.

Releasing the tiny clasp at her back took too long, but finally, he worked it free, and the garment slipped to the floor. Arielle stood before him in only those tiny panties. His hands flexed at his sides. She was far too beautiful, far too perfect for him. But she was there, gazing at him in the way he'd always hoped she would, and he forgot how to breathe.

And then she reached for him, and he moaned at the contact of her delicate fingers caressing his skin.

She fumbled with the button on his jeans and then the zipper, and took her time tugging the material down his legs. The brush of her fingers along his skin drove him crazy. He kicked free of his jeans and boxers and stood before her, unable and unwilling to hide his desire.

That pretty flush filled Arielle's cheeks, and she took him in her hands. And then his brain short-circuited.

Her. Hands. On. Him.

Just that knowledge alone was enough to push him to the edge.

He'd imagined it a million times, but the fantasy didn't come anywhere near the reality.

She drove him crazy with long strokes and clever twists of her fingers.

His pulse thudded harder and harder, and his breath came faster and faster.

"Hold on. I want to last." He cuffed her wrists in one of his hands and guided her to his bed.

The sight of her curly hair fanning out around her face, on his pillow was enough to snap his hold on his control. He knelt between her legs and held her gaze, wanting her to watch him worship her body.

He started at her feet. Caressing her skin, fingers skimming up her calves, over her thighs, tracing patterns that made her suck in her breath. He worked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and slowly tugged them down her legs. Arielle spread out before him, breath quickening as she held his gaze. A wave if tenderness washed over him and he kissed a path over her legs, back to her core. He teased her, first with his fingers and then with his lips and then with both working in tandem, needing to give her pleasure more than he needed his next breath.

Arielle's fingers tugged on his hair and then scraped over his scalp as he brought her over the edge.

When her hands fell to her sides, he kissed a path over her stomach, pausing to linger at her breasts, and then to her mouth.

"Rod." Her whisper pierced the silence, and her hands clutched his back.

He rolled on protection and guided himself to her center and then paused, savoring the moment, while desire pulsed in his blood and demanded more.

Holding her gaze, he slid inside. Slowly. And groaned at the tight heat. And nearly lost control. Arielle's breath hitched and then she clamped around him.

On a gasp of her name, he retreated almost all the way, and then thrust into her again, And again. And again, until she arched against him and met his thrusts with her own.

He lowered until their mouths met, and then slipped one hand between them to stroke her. Her breath increased to panting and then her eyes closed, and she threw her head against the pillow and gasped out her release.

The heated squeeze of her body pulled him past the point of no return. He began to move faster, thrust harder. He grasped her shoulder tighter and pushed in deeper, grinding against her. Her hands guided his mouth back to hers. The nip on his lips surprised him, and he lifted his head and met her gaze. Looking into her eyes, he exploded inside her, so hard his vision grayed out at the edges.

When he recovered enough, he pressed up, removing his weight from crushing her into the mattress.

Arielle pressed a kiss to his chest. He tilted his head until he met her gaze and saw the question lurking there.

He stroked his hand down her back and pulled her closer against him. "Wow doesn't even begin to cover it."

"For me too. I just--"

"It's always been you, Ari. Always." He kissed her lips, then her nose, then her forehead. More than passion, the caring he'd felt for years embedded deeper in his heart.

He rolled onto his back, then rose and dealt with the condom. When he turned back to the bed, the scene before him was another fantasy come true. Arielle in his bed, curls disheveled by his hands, lips swollen from his kisses, and body that he could now map from memory.

Seeing her there in the place where he'd dreamed of having her for so long, appreciation and amazement and satisfaction mixed together and spun out, radiating from his heart to settle deep in his soul.

Her teeth sank into her lower lip. "What is it?"

"You're just... beautiful. And here. I almost can't believe it."

"Me neither. But I'm glad I am." She lifted the sheet in invitation.

He climbed back in bed and tugged her until she lay partway on him.

Tonight, he'd get to sleep with Arielle by his side. And tomorrow, he'd get to spend the day with the Cup.

The Cup was a one-day thing. He had to figure out a way to keep Arielle by his side for a hell of a lot longer than that.

|  |

---|---|---

# Chapter Six

--------

AN AIR HORN'S WAIL pierced the silence, startling Arielle's heartbeat to a gallop. She opened her eyes, and the warm body next to her on the bed rolled over with a grumble.

Rod's voice, muffled curses, made her laugh as he fumbled with something on the bedside table. Then, blissful silence returned.

"That is the most grating alarm clock I've ever heard. It's not a gentle, pleasant way to wake up at all."

He rolled back and faced her. His blue eyes warmed with his smile. "Yeah, but it's the only one I can't sleep through."

He looked amazing in the early morning light. Mussed hair, sexy stubble, and cut muscles.

Feeling shy now, after they'd spent the night together, was silly. Still, she pulled the sheet higher.

Rod brushed his hand through her hair. "Good morning."

Leaning into him, into his kiss, felt right. Arielle slid her hand along his back, and the hard muscles bulged. She snuggled into the delicious warmth of their torsos pressing together and threaded her fingers into Rod's hair.

His hands stroked along her side, up and down, sending tingles shooting down her spine. He tangled their legs together and rolled her underneath him.

The alarm blared again.

Rod pushed off of her and silenced it. "We have to get moving. Edwin will be here soon."

Edwin's name snapped her into action. She climbed from the bed and bent to pick up her clothes from the floor. "You need to get ready. Let me just get dressed, and I'll get out of your way."

"Stay. Spend the day with me."

She stood and slowly turned to face him. "But you have all your plans for the Cup today."

"I know. And I want you to be a part of them."

"Really?" The word slipped out automatically, born of surprise. She hadn't thought she'd factor into his day with the trophy.

He crossed to her and slipped his fingers along her neck, lifted her hair, and then kissed the sensitive skin where her neck met her shoulder. "Really."

A shiver worked through her. Rod pulled her clothes from her hands and dropped them on the bed. "Shower? Then coffee."

"I thought coffee always came first." She followed him into the bathroom.

"Coffee takes a backseat to you." He winked and turned on the shower spray. "We don't have a lot of time to play this morning. I hate rushing with you."

"No worries. The Cup is a special situation." Still, his words pleased her, and she took a chance. "We'll just have to do it again sometime."

"I like the way you think." He held back the curtain for her.

She stepped under the water with him, and he handed her the soap. As she lathered up, he poured shampoo into his hands and then pressed a kiss to her lips and began rubbing her hair. Sighing, she leaned against him and enjoyed being pampered. When was the last time someone had washed her hair? Matt had never done it.

He turned her to face away from the spray and helped her rinse her hair.

"My turn." Arielle rubbed the soap over his chest then explored lower. Rod sucked in his breath and his eyes sparked as her hand closed over his cock. He hissed out a breath and grabbed her shoulders.

And then his tongue teased along her lips and slipped inside, thrusting against hers, mimicking his body's movements. His hand cupped her breast, then wandered a slow journey to her center and teased until she came apart, and then he groaned out his release.

Steam filled the room, misting the air as they rinsed and kissed under the hot spray.

Rod turned off the water and tugged her out of the shower. He draped a thick white towel around her shoulders, then grabbed another and wrapped it around his waist. "I figured we could get breakfast at the coffee shop."

"I'm glad you're bringing it there. That'll mean a lot to Ben."

"He's had my back for years. Besides hanging out with my family, all I really care about is sharing the Cup with Ben and Jacob. And you." He winked at her. "Hopefully, it'll get some free advertising for the coffee shop. Maybe draw in some new customers."

"It's a Sunday morning. Trust me, the shop will be busy, and if the customers all text or call their friends to stop by, you might not get time to eat at all." She toweled off and dressed in yesterday's clothes. "I'll need to stop home and change my clothes. If you don't mind dropping me off along the way, I'll grab my car and then meet you there later."

He pulled on a blue t-shirt and gray shorts and then sat on the edge of the bed. "I can't believe today is finally here. I knew this day was coming, but it's sort of surreal."

"It's a big deal." And he looked overwhelmed. She sat beside him and laced their fingers together. "Just enjoy it."

"Yeah. I've been excited about it, but I still feel like it's someone else's victory. Not getting to play at all during the playoffs really bothered me. I feel like I didn't really win the series."

"The games you played in during the season helped, though. Remember, there was a coach who said, 'the more games you win at the beginning of a season, the less you have to win at the end.' Your record was eighteen wins and four losses. You did contribute to winning the Cup."

His eyes crinkled at the edges with his smile, and he raised her hand to his lips. "Thank you."

"Want to make some coffee while we wait for Edwin?" Coffee always made him happy and would give them something to do.

He rose and pulled her to her feet. "I'm impressed you know my stats."

"I pay attention. And I might have watched the games."

His brows rose, and he gave a fake gasp. "In the heart of Bedlam country, you're a closet Rage fan?"

Heat flushed into her cheeks, and she told him the truth. "I'm a Rod Fraser fan."

A grin beamed across his face. He clamped his hands on her hips and drew her against him. "I like that. I think I'll keep you."

She rose onto her toes and pulled him down until his lips met hers. His strong hands lowered and he lifted her. Sighing into his mouth, she wrapped her legs around his waist.

He wrapped his fingers around her hips, securing her against him with arms as strong as steel. "There. Now we're eye-to-eye."

"And mouth-to-mouth." She arched closer and kissed him again.

"I like the way you think."

Arielle threaded her fingers in his short, light brown strands. This was sexy. Easy. Effortless. And he made her happy. "I like everything about you. But I'm thinking we better head downstairs now, or we'll end up back in bed, and that'll keep your Cup Keeper waiting."

"Poor Edwin. I can see the headline now: Cup Keeper Catches Goalie in Bed with Goddess."

The goddess part made her smile. "But it's you, so they'd play up the coffee angle. It would be Cup Keeper Catches Goalie in Bed with Part-time Barista."

He laughed and kissed her again. "You really are something special."

And she really was falling for him. He seemed too good to be true.

And that was what scared her.

* * * * *

ROD RINSED COFFEE CUPS in the sink. He'd been eying the clock for the past fifteen minutes. Having Arielle with him was the only thing keeping him from pacing the floor.

Finally, the doorbell rang. His stomach lurched and his heartbeat ticked faster.

Eight o'clock. Edwin was right on time.

Arielle followed him into the hall. He met her gaze, soaked up that calming energy, and opened the door.

Edwin smiled at him from behind the huge gleaming silver cup. "Rod. Nice to see you."

"Come on in, man." He stepped back, hands itching to hold the trophy. Memories flooded back--of taking a lap around the ice, holding the Cup high over his head after the last game, of drinking champagne out of it during the celebration with his teammates, of sharing it with the Rage's fans during the parade in New Orleans.

And now, he had it all to himself.

Edwin nodded. "Go ahead. Take it."

Rod wiped his hands on his shorts. Mouth dry, he accepted the heavy Cup. Each band listed player names from previous Cup-winning teams. His name, his team, wasn't on there yet. The league would add the names after the team's individual days with the trophy were finished.

Behind him, Arielle introduced herself to Edwin. Rod turned. "Sorry. Edwin, this is Arielle. Arielle, Edwin is the Keeper of the Cup. He gets to travel with it wherever it goes."

"Just like a bodyguard."

"That's right." Edwin pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He was a hockey geek in the best sense of the word. He could quote stats better than anyone and was a font of information.

Arielle pulled her phone from her pocket. "Want me to take your picture?"

"Please." He posed with it, grinning for the camera.

Edwin extended his hand. "If you'd like, I can take one of you together."

Rod nodded. "Come on in, Ari."

She pulled on the ends of her hair. "I look a mess."

"Not from where I'm standing." He adjusted his hold and then held her arm open. "Please."

Her eyes, when she melted and gave in, enchanted him. He draped his arm over her shoulder, pulling her into his chest. If he had to choose between Arielle or the Cup for which felt better in his arms, he'd honestly have to pick Arielle. He was so far gone it wasn't funny. He was sure the photo would capture what he felt.

"So," Edwin rubbed his hands together. "Where to? Some of your teammates have kept me on my toes."

"I'll bet." He thought he knew which ones, too. "Our first stop is the coffee shop."

Edwin grinned. "Knowing you, I should have figured on that one."

Twenty minutes later, after dropping off Arielle at Ben's house, Rod walked into Ben's coffee shop, carrying the Cup.

The customers stared. Most of them cheered. And all of them pulled out their phones and took pictures. Rod stopped by tables to chat and let people get close enough to touch the trophy. Then he finally reached the counter.

Ben came around to meet him. "I almost can't believe it. I mean, I know you won, but actually having it here is unreal."

"You can hold it."

"Yeah?" Ben's eyebrows winged up. He carefully accepted the trophy. Rod grabbed a few pictures and posted one on his social media accounts, inviting people to stop by and see the Cup and join him for coffee.

"Where's Jacob?"

"Watching cartoons in the break room. I'll get him. He was asking all morning if he'd see you today."

Rod accepted the trophy back and set it on the counter, then ordered a large coffee for himself and one for Edwin.

Jacob ran to him. "Uncle Rod. Aunt Ari painted my mask. Look." He thrust the goalie mask at Rod.

On the side of the white helmet, a black and red coffee cup matched the one on his Rage helmet. Rod knelt beside Jacob and studied her work. Arielle had done a fantastic job. "That's really cool, buddy. Your aunt is one talented woman."

"Yeah." Then Jacob looked up at the counter, and his eyes widened, and his mouth fell open. "Wow, the Cup is big. It's almost as big as me. Can I hold it?"

"That might be a little heavy for you, bud, but you can stand next to it, and we'll take your picture."

"Dad, too?"

"Dad, too." He waved for Ben to join them.

For the next hour, he posed for picture after picture with the patrons. Finally, a lull hit and Rod grabbed his reheated coffee and sank into a chair next to Ben.

A bittersweet smile crossed Ben's face. "Dude. This is unreal. Remember all the times we talked about playing in the pros and winning a Cup together?"

"Yep. With you and Dylan scoring and me guarding the net." A spot of guilt flared in Rod's gut. He'd played hockey with Ben throughout high school and college. But while he and Dylan and Matt had gone on to chase pro-hockey dreams after college, Ben had suffered back-to-back knee injuries, and his hockey career had ended. He'd married his college sweetheart, had Jacob two years later and then buried his wife two years after that.

Life wasn't fair. He patted Ben on the back. "I'm sorry, man. I wish things had turned out differently."

"No need to feel sorry. My life is good. I have the best son in the world. Look at how happy he is." He nodded to where Jacob colored at one of the tables, chatting away at Edwin. "And I have this shop. That's enough for now."

The space was a good size. Painted in shades of brown and cream, with large windows and small bistro tables, and paintings of coffee cups lining the walls inside and outside, the shop had been Ben's focus for the last three years. He'd needed some way to channel his grief and refocus his life, and Rod was happy to have been able to help.

"You know I'm here if you need me. God knows you've been there for me over the years."

"Always." Ben nodded. "I don't know what I would've done without you either. You're the main reason I have this place."

"Well, that was selfish on my part. After all, you are helping me feed my addiction." He grinned and elbowed Ben.

As he'd hoped, a large smile bloomed on Ben's face, and he laughed. "True. I've missed having you around. I'm really happy for you, man."

"Thanks. Hopefully, I'll get a chance to win another one someday." Lots of guys played their whole career without ever getting a shot at the championship. Was he selfish to wish for two?

Arielle came in the door. Her curls bounced with her walk. Rather than the shorts and tank tops and t-shirts he'd seen her in, she wore a gauzy sundress in pale pink that showed off her slim shoulders and shapely legs, and sexy, strappy sandals. Her lips were slicked with something shiny that beckoned him for a kiss.

Arousal flamed his blood. He adjusted his position. There wasn't any time allowed in the schedule for finding a private spot for the two of them, at least not until late that night. He mentally recited the names of the league's teams in the order they'd joined, until he had himself under control.

Rod grabbed his coffee, then nodded at Edwin. "Time for our next stop."

Ben stood too. "We'll see you at the high school."

Rod hugged him goodbye, then hefted the trophy. Arielle got a great shot of him buckling the Cup into his SUV's passenger seat. And then, they were off to his parents' house. He couldn't wait to see his dad.

He swung into his parents' driveway, and the garage door opened. His parents, brother, and sister emerged, greeting him with excited waves and smiles so broad that his own excitement boiled over.

Rod climbed out of the car and waited for Arielle and Edwin to join him. He made the family introductions to Edwin before removing the bulky trophy from the car.

"Okay, son. Let's see it." His dad's smile beamed as bright as the sun.

Grinning just as big, Rod held the trophy out to his dad, but instead of taking it, his dad traced his fingers over the names engraved on the middle band. "I can't believe it. First me, and now my boy."

Tears threatened to form, but Rod blinked them away. This was special. Not many fathers and sons shared the designation of being Cup winners. His dad took the trophy, held it for a moment, then passed it to Dylan.

Dylan turned the trophy slowly, studying it the way he sometimes watched a game or practice film, intense, seeking, and determined. "I'm jealous. But proud of you too, Rod. Damn proud."

Kelsey accepted it from Dylan, but instead of posing with it or studying it, she handed it to their mom. "You should see this before I do."

Rod waited until his dad joined his mom. "You guys gave so much time and energy to all of us kids. You're the reason Dylan, Kelsey, and I are even in this sport, and why any of us were successful. We wouldn't be where we are without you. The Cup is partly yours. Thank you for everything."

His mom hugged him hard, then his dad did the same. "We're proud of you."

To his left, Dylan elbowed Kelsey. "Good luck with trying to be the favorite now."

"Right?" His sister nodded. "He pretty much gave them a unicorn."

"Hush, you two." Mom laughed. "This favorite nonsense has been going on for nearly thirty years."

"Could've prevented it if you'd stopped after me." Dylan smiled and then ducked away from Kelsey's laughing shove.

"Lunch now. Inside." Mom turned to Edwin. "I hope you like chicken."

Rod let his dad carry the Cup into the house. His old man was already recounting the tales from his time with the highly coveted prize nearly three decades earlier.

Arielle's soft hand curled into his. "He looks happy. So do you."

"It means a lot now, you know? Seeing him with it, knowing that we're going to be on there, together forever. It's special. I worked so hard ever since I was a kid, always looked up to him and to Dylan, and now I have this really cool thing, and it's a little more emotional than I thought it would be."

"That's okay. It's a huge thing, and you're allowed to feel."

"I guess. I'm supposed to be a stone-cold goalie."

"Please." Emerald green eyes danced with her laughter. "You're known for always cracking a smile and playing with emotion. No one looks at you and thinks heart of stone."

"Should I change?" He held his breath for her answer. Did she want him to be different? He'd worried that she would keep quiet, that her experience with Matt would color how she approached their relationship. He needed her honesty more than anything.

She smiled, then leaned up and brushed her lips over his. Her five-inch heels helped with their height difference, but he still had to bend down. Her hands locked at the back of his head, holding him close. "Never."

As they kissed, her words repeated in his head. She was right. He was known for always smiling and laughing and joking around, and for being extra-friendly and accessible to the media. Ernie's statements about the other teams came back to him too. Maybe they didn't think he took his job seriously enough.

That irked deep. After watching Ben go through what he had with his wife, Rod had vowed to live each day as optimistically as possible. If the teams thought his jocular attitude carried over to how he approached his job, he was screwed for finding another chance.

|  |

---|---|---

# Chapter Seven

--------

THE HIGH SCHOOL GYMNASIUM hadn't changed a bit since she'd been a student. Not that she'd spent much time there, outside of the required gym classes. Arielle walked with Rod through the crowd of well-wishers. He carried the Cup, and Edwin followed at a discrete distance behind.

She left Rod surrounded by some of his old teammates and his coach, all taking pictures of and with the trophy. Members of the local newspaper and television station arrived with their cameras and equipment. Organized chaos was the best way to describe the room's atmosphere.

Stopping by a pillar, she pulled out her phone. Two missed texts. One from Ben letting her know that he and Jacob were on their way. Good. The second one--not so good. Kelsey was stuck in traffic and asked Arielle to find a way to hold up the ceremony.

Right. Like she had that kind of power. What could she do--hide the three-foot-tall trophy?

Laughing at herself, she sent the suggestion to Kelsey, then she looked up, seeking Rod, and instead, came face-to-face with Matt.

Rat Bastard.

Shock iced over her limbs. She blinked a few times, but nope, still him. Blue-eyed, blond-haired, tanned, and toned.

Why was he here?

And right in front of her.

Goddamn it.

Her back was to the wall, literally and figuratively.

Smiling wide, he opened his arms. "Arielle."

She side-stepped his hug. "I thought you were playing hockey in Russia."

"One year was enough. I'll be playing for Reno this season." Reno, the Las Vegas pro-team's minor league affiliate, had been the last team Rod had played for in his minor league career, before his time with the Rage. He moved in closer and his lips curve in a half-smile. "How have you been?"

"Fine." She stepped back.

"You look fantastic. Are you free tonight?"

"For what?"

He put a hand against the wall and leaned in too close to her. She stepped away again, putting enough space between them that she could easily have free range of movement if she needed to punch him in the mouth or kick him in the groin. He shrugged. "I figured you'd had enough time to calm down, and we could hook up while I'm in town."

"Calm down? Like what you did was something trivial?" Flabbergasted, she stared at him. "You've got to be kidding."

"I was the only man in your life for years. You can't tell me you haven't thought about me."

"Not in a good way, and definitely not in a pining for you way. Mostly in a hoping I'd never see you again way." She crossed her arms over her chest and enjoyed the shock widening his eyes.

He recovered, and grinned that mega-watt smile she'd always considered to be manipulative and insincere. "You're still angry. Angry sex is great sex. Come to my hotel tonight, and I'll let you use me to work it out of your system."

Bile rose in her throat. She clenched her hand into a fist. "You have three seconds before I--"

"Ms. Charton. I thought that was you."

Her stomach plummeted, and she turned to face the high school's principal, who also happened to hold the decision of whether or not he'd hired her. "Mr. Giorgio."

He studied her through wire-rimmed glasses. "I hadn't expected to see you here today."

"My brother was on the state champion team." She shook his hand. How much had he heard?

He quickly pumped her hand, then turned to Matt. "Is this your brother?"

"Nope. My brother is on his way though." Her voice faltered when Matt's arm draped over her shoulders. Arielle shook it off like it was a snake.

Matt responded with a lewd wink. "Come on, Ari. Don't be that way."

Her face grew hotter and the urge to punch Matt grew stronger. She needed to be seen as a competent professional who could hold herself together, and a calm professional wouldn't punch a jerk's lights out in front of her prospective new boss. Taking a deep breath, she glared at Matt, and then pitched her tone lower, "Mr. Giorgio is the principal here."

Then she turned back to the bewildered older man and gestured to her slimy ex. "This is Matt Carter. He was also a part of the state champs."

"Oh yes. I remember your name from the list." He smiled and shook Matt's hand. "You didn't respond to my invitation letter, but no matter now. I'm happy with the number of you who were able to be here today."

Matt opened his mouth, and Arielle stepped forward, her mind desperately searching for a way to separate the men before he said anything else designed to embarrass her.

A strong arm wrapped around her shoulder and then Rod stood in between them. With a smile, he shook hands with the principal. "Hi, I'm Rod Fraser. Thanks for helping to put this together. Would you like to have your picture taken with the Cup? My buddy Edwin over there is more than happy to take one for you."

"Thank you." The older man waved and hurried toward the big trophy.

Arielle exhaled in relief.

Rod's hand tightened on her shoulder and bright, hot anger burned in his icy blue eyes. He bent his head, eyes intent on her face. "Are you okay?"

"Sure." She nodded but her head spun with Matt's words.

Then Rod angled toward Matt, and his hold on her body brought Arielle closer to his side. "What the hell are you doing talking to her?"

Matt grinned that stupid, mega-watt grin again and clapped him on the shoulder. "Rod. Hey, man. Congrats on the championship. I wouldn't have missed this for anything."

"Get lost." The low, harsh words shot into the air like bullets.

"I know, it's hard to believe I made the trip, right?" Matt chuckled and looked around at the television station cameras being set up. He'd always been big on taking advantage of opportunities. No wonder he'd shown up today. "This is great exposure."

Arielle clamped hold on her anger, getting herself under control before she trusted herself to speak. Then she squared her shoulders and met his gaze. "Matt, really, get lost. We don't have anything to say to each other."

"Dude. You better move away." Rod's glare hardened his features and his hand flexed and released and flexed and released on her shoulder.

Matt glanced behind them, and his brows rose, and the smile fell. "Thanks for the heads up, bro. I'll catch you later."

He spun away and disappeared into the crowd.

"What the hell did he mean by a heads up?" Rod brought his other hand to stroke her cheek, and they both looked behind them.

Ben rushed forward, his face painted with anger and his hands forming fists. "Where the hell did that little shit disappear to?"

"Aha." Rod kissed her temple, then acknowledged Ben. "He's running scared. He thought I was warning him about you. No way would I do him any favors."

Ben touched her arm. "Are you okay? What did he say?"

Arielle glanced between Rod and her brother. They didn't need to worry about her or let Matt ruin their day. "He hasn't changed. And I'm fine."

A little hand tugged on the hem of her shirt. She looked down, and Jacob smiled at her. "Isn't this cool, Aunt Ari?"

"Sure, really cool."

Mr. Giorgio's voice boomed out of the loudspeaker. "If I can have everyone's attention, we'd like to get started."

Rod bent and kissed her. "I'll see you afterward."

He stood next to the principal, the Cup between them, and Edwin standing off to the side.

Ben joined the group of the state champs on the principal's other side. Matt moved as far from Ben as possible. That was definitely smart.

Kelsey and Dylan and their parents arrived, and Arielle stood with them, holding onto Jacob's hand. She kept her focus on Rod and alternated between snapping photos with his phone and hers.

The principal gave a speech about the school's commitment to excellence in academics and sports, then the old hockey coach gave a speech about how special the teams had been and how hard they'd worked, and then Rod gave a speech about playing for the school and with his teammates, about growing up in a hockey family and having the support of the community. Ben and Dylan's names came up numerous times in his stories and the entire room filled with laughs and murmurs and aww's. He captured their attention and had everyone hanging on his every word.

Then, his jersey was raised to the rafters, hanging beside the banners for various championships. The look of happiness on his face took her breath away, and her heart swelled with pride and with love.

The crowd moved, some rushing close to Rod to get a picture with him and the Cup. Kelsey and her parents drew into conversation with the hockey coach and a few fans.

Arielle wandered the gym with Jacob until they found Ben. Ben glanced over her shoulder. "Have you seen him?"

"If you mean Matt, no. And you can't go after him here, not with the people from the paper and the TV station. If you hurt him, you'll hurt your business."

"Still..."

She smiled. "But I appreciate you wanting to beat him up for me."

Jacob grabbed Ben's hand. "Dad, I'm thirsty. Please, can we get a drink?"

"You can wait until we get in the car."

"But they have machines over there." He pointed to the vending machines in the hallway. "Please?"

"He is asking nicely." Arielle smiled, then dug in her pocket and pressed some bills into Ben's hand. "My treat."

"Thanks. Want anything?"

"Nope. There's a little line there, so I'll go wait with Kelsey until you're done."

Ben and Jacob headed off to the vending machines and Arielle strolled in the opposite direction, weaving around small clusters of people.

Matt stepped in front of her. "So you're with Rod now?"

"I'm not sharing my personal life with you. What's wrong--you couldn't find a puck bunny to take my place tonight?" Shaking her head, she moved to her right, intent on stepping around him.

He smirked and blocked her path. "You think he's any different than me? Do you have any idea how many women throw themselves at top-level players, not to mention a Cup-winner? I'll give you a hint--it's a lot more than I get. And I get a lot."

"Matt. Leave me alone. We're not having a conversation." Rod wasn't Matt. Rod wouldn't cheat.

He continued to move with her. "I may not be on a team with him, but I still follow what he's up to. You think Mister New Hobby of the Week is really going to be content with you when he's constantly being bombarded with new varieties of women and new opportunities? You're not that special, Ari."

Each word annoyed her more and more. "If you feel that way about me, then why would you even suggest that you and I get together tonight?"

"A warm body is a warm body." He shrugged. "And you always were a decent lay."

"Get out of my way." She elbowed him in the stomach, hard enough to make him grunt, then pushed her way through the crowd. Rod wouldn't cheat. He'd said so, and she believed him. But he really did like trying new things, and his track record for keeping hobbies or interests wasn't great. Mind whirling, she plowed right into Mr. Giorgio's back. The older man grunted, stumbled two steps to the side, and then fell to the floor.

Arielle's stomach dropped. Then, she sprung into action and squatted beside him. "I'm so sorry. Here, let me help you up."

The people he'd been speaking with all stooped as well, and between the four of them, they helped him to stand.

She reached out and then dropped her hands. "I really am sorry, Mr. Giorgio. I--"

"Yes, well." He rubbed his elbow and winced when he took a step forward. "I think I may need a chair."

"I'll go look for one." She turned, scanning the room for a folding chair.

"You've done enough." His voice could have cut wire. A dismissive frown darkened his features and his eyes hardened.

Get away.

The message was clear.

"Again, I'm sorry. I'll just...go." Embarrassment pounded with every beat of her heart. She lowered her gaze to the floor and walked away.

Oh shit. She'd made quite the impression now. She pushed her way through the crowd. Toward her brother and nephew. Toward Rod and the Cup. Toward the exit. And freedom.

A reporter from the television station thrust a microphone in her face. "Would you care to say a few words to our viewers at home?"

The camera came into focus, and then all of the people staring at her.

Staring.

Staring.

Staring.

She dropped her gaze to the floor and fought the flames of heat burning her cheeks, her mind whirling with Matt's words. What to say? What to say? What to--

"Ari." Rod's hand touched her back, and then his solid frame leaned into hers. Relief wrapped around her like a warm shield.

The reporter tossed her gleaming red hair over her shoulder and turned her stunning, smiling face to Rod. "We're all curious to know your plans for next season. What can you tell us? Will you be returning to the Rage? Or moving on to a new team?"

Rod's hand slid to Arielle's arm, and in a smooth move, he took a step in front of her and tucked her behind him. "Having the chance to play the game I love as my profession is an honor and a dream. All I can say is that my agent is in talks with some teams."

"Would you consider playing overseas, like your friend Matt Carter? Matt told me that he played in Russia last season. Would you play in Europe if you don't receive an offer from one of your preferred teams?"

"Nothing's out of the realm of possibilities. I have a lot of friends who've played over there, and so no, I can't say I'd rule that out."

His words droned on but Arielle lost focus. She stood, staring at his back. Europe? He'd never mentioned that possibility to her. Then again, he'd been receiving phone calls from players and his agent all day. Who knew what had been discussed? But he'd go--just like that? Would he expect her to go with him?

Nothing was set in stone. He could play anywhere or be traded anywhere. And would she stay here in Holiday, or would he want her with him in each new city? She'd want to be with him. That was the point of being in a relationship. She hated the thought of long distance.

But a new city meant another school district, and another job search, and very likely, a substitute position. She couldn't get by on a substitute teacher's salary, if she was even able to get a job. No way would she rely on Rod to pay her way.

A chill settled over her bones. With him, her life would be put on hold yet again. And if things didn't go well, she'd be left out in the cold.

|  |

---|---|---

# Chapter Eight

--------

ROD TIGHTENED HIS HOLD on his beer and gritted his teeth. Matt had tried to worm his way into every news photo and reporter interview after the ceremony and then had monopolized the conversation with his old high school teammates at the diner where they used to go after every game. He was acting as though he'd won the Cup.

Rod thought he'd lose him when they headed to Tap Out, but Matt had shown up there too. In full-on obnoxious mode.

He was inches away from punching the bastard but had to keep his cool. The league wouldn't be happy with a bar-room brawl, especially with the Cup present.

Next to him, Ben kept a death glare on Matt and nursed the lone beer he'd had all night. His best friend had to work even harder to hold back.

Arielle had grown quieter and quieter since the afternoon, no doubt thanks to Matt's constant presence. She stood between Ben and Kelsey. No way would Matt try to come near her with those two standing sentry.

Stuck in one spot, greeting people and posing for pictures, Rod raised his brows at her. She gave him a small smile in return.

After what seemed like hours, Edwin came over. "It's almost midnight. Time for one last goodbye with the Cup."

The day had passed in a flash, and now, it was over. Rod took the trophy out to the parking lot, and over to the small park beside the bar. Stars winked in the sky and the full moon shined bright. He found a bench and placed the shiny silver prize on the seat then sat beside it and hugged it with one arm. Crickets chirped, and a warm breeze flowed, as refreshing as water.

He trailed his finger over his dad's name on the upper tier, and then over the spot on the bottom band where his name would be engraved on the most storied trophy in all of professional sports. Luck and talent and sheer determination and hard work had culminated into his being on the Rage, and earning this place as a part of hockey history. Hopefully, those same factors would carry him through, wherever he ended up next.

Edwin approached again. "It's time."

Rod stood and handed over the Cup. "I miss it already."

"You might hold it again one day."

"I hope so. Thanks for everything, Ed. Safe travels." He walked with Edwin back to the parking lot.

Minutes later, the Cup was gone.

Rod stuffed his hands into his pockets. Time to get back to real life.

He found his friends where he'd left them. Ben pushed away his half-empty beer. "I'm heading out."

He'd probably had all he could take of Matt. The idiot was holding court with a group of college-aged women on the other side of the room.

Rod slipped his arm around Arielle. He wanted to spend the night holding her close. "Stay with me tonight?"

She shook her head. "I'm really tired."

The weary exhaustion in her expression pulled forth a need to soothe. No matter what he wanted, what she needed came first. Tamping down his disappointment, he brushed his fingertip over her lips. "I guess I didn't let you get much sleep last night."

A shadow darkened her gaze but the corners of her mouth lifted in a smile. "Nope."

"I'll walk you guys out. Hell, I might as well head home too. Kels? Dylan? You coming?"

They both nodded.

The group trooped into the parking lot and didn't allow him any privacy for saying good night to Arielle. He managed to get a kiss before she climbed into Ben's car, but it wasn't as long or as deep as he'd needed.

Dylan slung his arm around Rod's shoulder. "Today was a hell of a good day, bro."

He nodded. "Here's hoping we have another one."

The next afternoon, he stretched on the ice at the Bedlam practice facility. In addition to Dylan, Celek, Forsberg, and Kreider, five more players joined them.

Coach LeClair pointed the introductions. "Sedlak, Rizzo, Paquette, Gostowski, and Clark."

Rod nodded at the guys. He'd met a few of them the last time he'd been in town. "I thought you said Pavel would be back today."

LeClair frowned. "Pavel called. He's still in Russia. He said he's sick."

"That sucks."

"Yeah." Dylan's expression matched the coach's, but then he grinned and slapped Rod on the back. "This just means we'll all be gunning for you today, bro."

Rod smirked and lowered his mask over his face. "Bring it on."

Two hours later, he was dripping with sweat, sore from performing acrobatics to make saves, and smiling so hard he thought his face would crack. The friendly practice had been brutal. He'd faced slapshots, two-on-ones, three-on-ones, breakaways, shots from the backhand and forehand, and then dove across the crease to stop wrap-around goals, plus had one puck ricochet off the crossbar and into his mask. Puck after puck sailed at him. Thanks to Dylan, again, more than one at a time.

He worked well with the defensive pair of Forsberg and Gostowski and did his best to predict each forward's strategy as they came flying at the net.

These guys were good. It was easy to see they would be a force to be reckoned with come next season.

In the locker room, LeClair dropped down next to him as they unlaced their skates. "It's been great having you here."

"I should be thanking you. I enjoyed the hell out of it."

"You're a hell of a goalie. What's the status for this season? I haven't seen any news of you signing anywhere yet."

He tried to play off his discomfort with a smile. "My agent still has a few calls to make. We'll see."

"Well, good luck."

"Thanks."

Celek sat on his other side. "Nice moves today, kid."

Again with the kid. He grinned and nudged the older player with his elbow. "You weren't so bad yourself, grandpa."

The room erupted in laughter, and Celek threw a towel at Rod's head. Dylan pounced, grabbing Celek in a headlock, and the two of them landed on the floor, knocking into Rod's equipment. They ended up flat on their backs, gasping and laughing.

LeClair shook his head, failing to hide his smile, and stood. "That's it for me today, guys. Be here at two tomorrow if you want to review the film."

When he left, Forsberg took his spot. "My head is pounding. I need caffeine in the worst way. Since you're known as the coffee dude, where's the best cup in Holiday?"

Rod paused in packing his equipment into his bag. His plans to visit Arielle and Ben at the coffee shop hadn't included bringing anyone except Dylan, but then again, the more people who knew about Ben's place, the better. He desperately wanted success for his friend. "The best coffee is at Jolt. I'm headed there now. You can follow me if you want."

After a brief discussion, all of the guys decided to tag along. Forsberg had taken one look at Rod's brown SUV and dubbed it The Coffee Bean. Appropriate enough since the inside usually smelled like coffee.

He led the caravan to the shop and decided not to call Ben with a heads up. The surprise would be better.

And he would get to see Arielle, which was best of all.

* * * * *

THERE WASN'T ENOUGH coffee in the world to shake her out of her mood. Arielle sipped from her third cup of the day and then rang up an order for a teenage couple more intent on each other than actually paying for their food and drinks. A sharp clearing of her throat jumped them into action.

She handed over their change and stifled a yawn. She hadn't slept well. Thoughts of Rod and of Matt had kept her tossing and turning as her mind had replayed conversations over and over again. At dawn, she'd given up and had spent the early morning hours sketching a picture of Rod holding the Cup, from the photos she'd taken. So much had changed between them in a short amount of time. But the more she thought about it, the more she was convinced they were making a mistake. She wasn't sure how to talk to him about it.

The couple moved to the window and then squealed and pointed to the parking lot. Arielle squinted against the bright sunlight. Rod and Dylan and a group of men were walking to the door.

A low whistle escaped Ben. He set a bag of coffee on the shelf behind him and met her gaze. "Those guys all play for the Bedlam. I knew Rod was practicing with them today, but he didn't say anything about bringing them by."

Customers' conversations grew louder, and several people held up phones, ready to capture a picture.

Rod led the group inside. He grinned and waved. "I told these guys that you have the best coffee in town."

Ben started their orders, and Rod paid for them all. After Arielle had handed him back his credit card, he introduced her and Ben around. She'd recognized the players from watching the games, but seeing them in person, especially a group of them, especially in Ben's shop, was different. Almost surreal. She had to crane her neck to meet all of their gazes. Too bad Jacob wasn't there to see them, he would have gone crazy, but her nephew was enjoying a few days with his grandparents.

Coffees in hand, the players joined the customers at their tables and signed autographs and posed for pictures.

Rod leaned over the counter and kissed her. "Hey. Did you get some sleep last night?"

"Some, but not enough."

He traced his finger down the side of her face. "Maybe you need a massage tonight to relax you."

She raised a brow and tried to ignore the little voice questioning how many he'd given. Screw it. "Have you given them often?"

His mouth winged up on one side. "Never. But I've watched the team's trainer give them a lot, so I'm sure I can figure it out."

"I like your confidence." And the way his presence commanded attention. And how his smile lit up something inside her. She was falling faster and harder each day.

One of the other players came up and stood beside Rod. "Great place, kid. Thanks for letting us in on it. I think it'll be my new stop on the way home from training."

Rod laughed. "Training? Don't you mean practice, Celek?"

"Nope. Training. Sprint triathlons."

Dylan joined them. "Celek has been trying to convince me to join him in his training all summer."

Rod's brows lifted and he set his coffee down. "I have a buddy in New Orleans who does Ironman races. Training for those is really intense on top of our regular conditioning programs, especially this close to the season."

"Sprint triathlons aren't anywhere near as long as Ironman races. They're short-distance triathlons, usually consisting of a seven-hundred-fifty-meter swim, a twenty-kilometer bike ride, and a five-kilometer run, so you log about five or six training hours a week. That's nothing, and I'm only doing it as an off-season thing. If you want to try it, you should join me."

"Yeah? It sounds fun. I'd need a bike."

"I can take you to the place where I got fitted for mine. You'll need to make sure you're doing one or two training sessions--per sport--weekly. So that means at least two bike workouts, two swims, and two runs per week."

"Man, I'm in. Sign me up." Excitement sparked in Rod's features and movements and voice. "Get me a list of whatever I need to buy. I'll need a training plan too."

And in the span of a minute, a new hobby was born. Arielle blinked at the swiftness of the decision.

Celek grinned and high-fived Rod. "One of the team's athletic trainers does them. She got me started right after we lost the playoffs."

Dylan leaned on the counter. "Blair's great. She joined the team last season. Rod, her dad played on the Bedlam for a few years with Dad. She's really good at helping us during the off-season, too."

Rod's eyes lit up. "If she got Celek set, then maybe she'd help me. We could meet with her and get some tips. Maybe even train with her?"

"I'll give her a call." Dylan pulled out his phone and stepped away from the counter.

Arielle recognized Blair's name. Kelsey had mentioned her a handful of times. A shard of jealousy sliced into her confidence, and she swiped at a spot of coffee on the counter. She wasn't terribly athletic. Judging from Rod's enthusiasm, maybe he would prefer someone who was.

He leaned over and rescued her sketchbook from her rag's path. Whistling, he leafed through the pages.

She made a grab for it. "Wait."

But he'd already found the picture. "It's me. With the Cup."

"It's not perfect."

"It's amazing." He held the paper closer to his face, and she held her breath under his examination. "You're ridiculously talented."

She couldn't contain her smile. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing." He held it out to the other guys. "Isn't she great?"

Nine voices murmured in agreement. Then, Rod pointed out the paintings she'd done around the shop and nine heads followed his tour and then turned in her direction, calling out numerous compliments, which brought more attention from the customers, and that all-too-familiar burn heated her cheeks. Eyes steady on Rod, she held out her hand for the pad.

He caught her hand in his and linked their fingers together and then stepped around to her side of the counter and drew her to his chest. "I can have the picture, right?"

Pleasure at his request spread warmth throughout her body. "If you want it."

"I do. It's the best gift I've ever received, next to the other picture you drew." He bent, and his lips teased over hers, lingering until catcalls from the guys reminded her that they weren't alone. Breathless, she drew away.

They were still in her brother's shop, after all, and she was on the clock.

Rod tore the sketch out of the book and set it next to his coffee.

"Blair can meet us at her gym in an hour." Dylan pocketed his phone and resumed his spot at the counter. "She likes training there. We should join it to make training together easier."

"We?" Celek gaped at him. "Since when are you in on giving this a try?"

Dylan gave his full attention to stirring his coffee. "She thought I was calling for Rod and myself."

"Any reason you didn't want to correct her?" Rod smirked and hit his brother's chest.

Dylan actually blushed. "It'll be good for brother bonding. And I thought it would be a fun thing to do."

"Whatever you say." Rod laughed and then turned to Celek. "I can't wait to get started. Do we have enough time to check out bikes first?"

"If we head out now."

"Cool." Rod drew Arielle close once again. "What time are you finished?"

"Late. I'm closing tonight."

"Call me when you're done?"

She nodded and raised onto her toes to meet his waiting lips.

And then he was gone. Out the door, and on to new adventures.

Her sketch lay on the table--forgotten. She picked up the paper. For a long while, art was all she'd had. It had kept her busy during the lonely nights when Matt had been away and had given her life a purpose through teaching her students.

If Rod were to cast her aside as easily as he'd discarded the sketch or switched from one hobby to another, that would break her.

He didn't think anything at all about joining a local gym or starting a new program with a brand-new trainer when he might be on the other side of the country in a few weeks' time. He just dove in, all systems go.

Had he done that with her as well?

She wrapped her arms around her waist. Summer vacation was drawing to an end, and dreamy wishes needed to take a backseat to practicality. It was time to reset her boundaries and protect herself.

|  |

---|---|---

# Chapter Nine

--------

ROD POURED AFTER-DINNER coffee into the five cups on his parents' kitchen table. His muscles ached from the long workout of biking and running with Celek, Blair, and Dylan. Rolling his shoulders, he set the empty coffeepot into a sink laden with dishes. He and Dylan's quick stop in on their way home had turned into staying for dinner and even though he'd helped cook, he was still going to have to Rock-Paper-Scissors his siblings to see who had to wash and who had to dry.

His dad snagged one of the mugs and set another in front of his mom. "Any word from Ernie?"

"Nothing." His agent had been silent. The days were ticking away, training camps getting closer and closer. Barring an injury to another goalie, his option to play for another team seemed bleaker and bleaker.

"Even if you're in New Orleans next year, it'll be okay." Kelsey patted his shoulder before she grabbed her coffee cup. He understood and appreciated her optimism, even though that option wasn't the one he wanted.

"I guess. But I don't know how long the Rage will give me before they sign another backup. They have to plan for next season too." He'd thrown himself headlong into the triathlon training to avoid dwelling too much on his situation, but that hadn't worked. His mind cycled from one to the next, a crazy whirlwind that never ceased.

His mom touched his shoulder. "Maybe you should--"

Loud ringing jangled from his phone, and it vibrated on the table. His agent's name appeared on the display. He snatched it up. "It's Ernie."

Four pairs of eyebrows rose. He didn't want to deal with bad news in front of his family, so he stepped into the living room. Taking a deep breath, he answered. "Hello?"

"Rod, I have good news."

Hope laced with caution eased the pit in his stomach. "Good news is good." But it could mean so many different things.

"In this case, it's great. I just heard from the Bedlam's GM. The Bedlam want you."

No freaking way. Energy shot through his limbs and his breath caught in his lungs. He gripped the phone with a tingling hand. "Is this a joke? Because if it is, that's not funny, man."

"No joke. Pavel isn't coming back. He doesn't want to leave his pregnant wife. The organization was impressed with your performance during your get-togethers with the players. They went back and looked at the film of your time in net this past season. They feel you'll be a good fit with your talent and your chemistry with the other players too. You have a one-year deal. If all goes well, we'll be negotiating something long-term at the end of the season."

"That's... That's... I can't believe it. I'm psyched." Even if he didn't get the starter job--and he was going to fight like hell to make sure he did--playing for his hometown team would be amazing.

The buzzing in his ears competed with Ernie's voice. "You'll still have to prove yourself in training camp, but Mintner's record wasn't as good as yours, and you've been proving yourself with these practices already. To me, it sounds like the team wants you to take Pavel's top spot. They really are going to give you a fair chance to fight for it. Congratulations. I'll be in touch."

Rod cleared his throat. "Thanks, man."

He ended the call and stared out the window. Sunset colored the sky in streaks of red and orange. His surroundings were the same, but one phone call and mere minutes had changed everything.

The Bedlam. He was going to be playing for the Bedlam.

Like his dad.

Like his brother.

With his brother.

Rod stared at the phone. Then checked the call log to make sure he hadn't imagined it.

Dylan leaned in from the doorway. "Rod? Everything okay?"

"Uh, yeah." Pocketing his phone, he gestured toward the kitchen. "Come on. I'll tell everyone at once."

He still didn't feel like it was real. He leaned against the kitchen counter, gripping it with tingling fingers, and his parents, Kelsey, and Dylan waited for him to speak.

He took a breath, shook his head, and said the words he'd never thought he'd have a chance to say. "I'm now a member of the Bedlam."

His parents and Kelsey jumped up and cheered.

"Seriously?" Dylan hugged him hard, then pulled away. "How? What happened?"

"Pavel isn't coming back. He doesn't want to leave his wife."

"He was so homesick all of last season. When he missed his flight saying he was sick, I'd wondered if something was up."

His mom pushed her way in. "I can't believe you're going to be playing here. I'm so happy."

"Me too." His dad grabbed him in a big bear hug. "I know it's something you've always wanted. It's something I've always wanted too. And now, having both my boys together on my old team, well, it's pretty damn special."

Dylan grinned and toasted him with his coffee. "I guess I'll have to get used to sharing the house year-round."

"I promise to continue stealing your food from the fridge if that will help you." Rod grinned back.

"Funny. I still haven't forgotten about you eating that cake. But, having you here is going to be awesome. We can ride together to practices and games."

Rod nodded. It would be great to be able to talk things over, and celebrate together after wins, or commiserate after losses--just like they'd done back in high school.

Kelsey hugged him. "I'll help you terminate or sublet your apartment lease in New Orleans, and help you get a moving company and have all your stuff packed and shipped here."

"That's nice of you."

She ruffled his hair. "It's also my job. Player services, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. Right." He smiled and shrugged. Excitement had addled his brain.

She poked him in the side. "I bet Arielle's going to be thrilled when she finds out."

Being able to stay with Arielle was like an extra shot of espresso in his coffee cup of happiness. He'd even settle for being the backup, and would do it happily, if it meant the chance to be with her. That knowledge struck him in the chest and warmth radiated out. He'd gone way past falling for her. He loved her. And he had to tell her. Now. He pushed away from the counter. "I have to go to her."

"Go on. I'll catch a ride home from Kelsey." Dylan waved him off.

Rod grabbed his keys and headed for his SUV. Sounds from the hot summer night drifted around him, and all he wanted to do was shout his good news from the rooftops. He settled for getting in his car and blasting music from his workout play list.

Arielle hadn't seemed like herself for the past few days. Maybe she was worried about what would happen when the season started. Maybe she worried about the distance and being apart from each other, or if he'd want her to go with him--and he would, if he were leaving. He'd wished she'd talk to him. Speculating was hell.

But that wouldn't be a problem now.

He accelerated the car down slowly darkening streets. He couldn't wait to share the news.

* * * * *

ARIELLE SAT AT ON THE couch, staring at the empty shot glass in her hand and the stack of bills on the coffee table.

She hadn't gotten the job.

Mr. Giorgio's voice echoed in her head. "I've chosen a candidate who I believe will be better suited for the position."

Right.

Better suited.

As in, one who hadn't run him down because she'd been distracted by her thoughts. Or, one who hadn't stammered her way through an interview because her ex's cheating face had been in her view the entire time.

Goddamn it.

What the hell was she going to do now?

The doorbell rang, followed by knocking on the door. She pushed to her feet and padded to the front door. Ben had gone to pick up Jacob from their parents' house. Had he forgotten his key?

One look out the window ratcheted up her heartbeat. Rod stood on the porch, grinning like he knew the world's best secret.

She pressed her hand to her stomach to quell the nerves and the butterflies and the queasiness and then opened the door.

He swept her into his arms and spun her in a circle.

She grabbed hold of his shoulders as the living room and open front door whirled by. "Whoa. What's going on?"

"I'll be playing for the Bedlam this season. I just found out."

Her jaw fell slack, and her mind spun processing the information. He was staying? But how? "What?"

He slowly slid her down until her feet touched the floor. "Their hot-shot rookie from last year misses his home and family too much, so he's not coming back. And while that's a shame for him, it's great for me. I'll have to fight for the starting job, but I think there's a great chance I'll get it."

Digging past her hurt and worry was difficult as she tried to summon elation for him. "Congratulations. I'm happy for you. I know how much you wanted to play for them."

Rod's twinkling eyes narrowed, and he studied her face. "You don't seem as happy as I thought you'd be. You don't seem happy at all."

Her shoulders sagged and she gave up trying. "I'm not happy. I just heard from the principal. I didn't get the job."

Concern creased his features and his hands caressed her shoulders. "I'm sorry."

Leaning into him was easy and immediate, and she soaked up the caring like a dry sponge touching water. "What the hell am I going to do?"

"You'll apply for another one."

She pushed away and paced to the middle of the living room. "Do you know what time of year it is? There aren't any teaching positions available now. And it's not only teaching positions, I've been on other interviews for other jobs too and no one wants me. Do you know what that feels like?"

"Actually, I do. Up until tonight, I've felt that way about the other teams."

"Then you know it sucks." She pointed to the stack of bills on the table. "Want to take a guess at how well it goes over when you call and tell them that you're trying your best but are still having a hard time paying? Not well at all. No one cares."

"If you need money, I can help--"

"No." She shook her head. "That wasn't why I told you. I already owe so many people. I don't need to add your name to the list, and I don't know when I'd be able to pay you back."

"I wouldn't expect it back. It would be a gift."

The fact that he'd offer, so quickly and sweetly and generously, meant the world. "I appreciate it, but no. Money changes relationships."

"Not if you don't let it."

She blinked away forming tears and stared at the gorgeous man in front of her. He had everything he wanted. And he also held the power to break her heart. "I put my life on hold for years for Matt. To follow him around from city to city. Rather than putting myself and my career first, I put love first. And look where it got me. Close to thirty with so much debt it makes my head hurt and almost zero advancement in my chosen field. That's failure. That's awful. It's more than awful--it's pathetic."

"It's not pathetic."

"No?" She laughed but the sound was flat, bitter, and defeated. "It sure feels like it."

Putting love first had been a mistake once before. And she was teetering on the edge of falling in love again. Hell, who was she kidding? She was already in a free-fall and too many unknowns lurked like sharks circling prey. Sheer panic pounded through her blood.

"We need to talk." The words were flowing, and her pulse thrummed wildly. She gripped her hands together and studied the floor while her heart ripped wide open. "I don't think we should see each other anymore."

Deafening silence stretched out for a long, long moment. Then Rod closed the front door. Rough fingers touched her chin and lifted until she met his grim expression, the ticking muscle in his jaw, and his burning gaze. "Care to share how you came to this conclusion?"

She swallowed hard. "I can't go through what I did with Matt."

His fingers tightened. "I'm not him."

The room seemed to close in on her. She squirmed away from his hold. "You don't understand."

He squinted at her like she was a complicated offensive play he needed to break down and then shook his head. "Obviously not. So help me."

"Who knows how long you'll be here with the team? Who knows how long I'll be here? No one is hiring me. I'm fed up, and I'm feeling swallowed up, and I don't know what to do."

"I'm here. I'll be here all of next season."

"But what about after that? And still--I can't find a job. I'm going to have to leave. But how can I go if you're here? Or how am I supposed to pay down the growing pile of money I owe if I'm moving and changing jobs every few years to follow you to a new team?"

"If we're together, what's mine is yours."

"If we're together..." She finally gave voice to the question that had been circling in her mind since their first kiss. "How do I know I'm not just the next new thing for you, and you'll toss me away when the thrill has worn off?"

His brows rose, his mouth opened, and he took a step forward. "Ari... How could you think that?"

"You jump headlong into things. You always have. Look at your track record: the drafting table from the time you took those few art lessons, the snowboard you used three times, the climbing gear you only used that one summer a few years ago... I could go on and on." She tossed her curls out of her face. She knew her words weren't rational, but she couldn't stop them, and she couldn't make him understand. "You lose interest pretty fast and cast them aside and are on to the next thing. Just like yesterday, with how quickly everything morphed with the triathlon training."

He blinked, rubbed his hands over his face, and then blinked again. "I've never given you a reason to doubt me."

"No? Then I guess we aren't looking at things the same way." So many thoughts and scenarios muddled together, and in all of them, all she could see was Rod changing his mind, and her being stuck alone somewhere, and the giant debt that loomed over her every day.

"I don't know what to say to make you believe me. You agreed to give us a chance."

Crossing her arms over her chest didn't stop the fear from seeping into her. "I did. And now I'm saying that it was a mistake."

"You think you're the only one who took risks when we got together?" His eyes blazed, and his body drew up tight, making him even larger. "You think you're the only one with worries and fears? If we're judging things based on past performance, then maybe I should worry about how you turned a blind eye to Matt for so long."

She gasped as the words sliced into her as sharp as a blade. "I didn't know about the cheating."

"No? You realized something was off in the relationship, though, and you kept letting it go. I know that much from conversations with Ben and my sister. Same thing with Matt's continued postponing of the engagement ring he promised you. You let him off the hook a ton of times, according to Ben. Do you think I wasn't worried that you'd keep quiet on things about me that upset you too? I want a partner, not someone who hides problems under a rug or in a sketchbook."

The words scored a direct hit and the ache in her heart spread throughout her body. She'd been too shy, too quiet, and too stupid for too long in her relationship with Matt, and she'd probably be paying for it for years. The fact that Rod knew so many details... Embarrassment bloomed into an overwhelming need to run--or hide. And his questions about her were valid, and made her feel so much worse. Arielle pointed to the front door. "You should go before one of us gets hurt."

"I think the hurting's already been done." The flash of pain faded away from his face, leaving it carefully devoid of emotion. He pulled the door open. "I'm sorry I was so wrong about you. I'm sorry both of us wasted our time."

The door closed at his back.

She sank onto the couch and sobbed.

* * * * *

GODDAMN IT. WHAT A night.

Rod screeched the car to a halt in the garage, and then slammed his way through the door leading into the kitchen. The reverberation echoed throughout the house.

Dylan met him in the kitchen, carrying a book and a glass of water. "What the hell? Try not to knock down the walls."

Rod bit back his retort. He tossed his keys onto the counter, and they skittered across the granite and fell to the floor. His muscles burned. God, he wanted to hit something.

Dylan set down his book and glass and retrieved the keys. "Hold up. You should be on top of the world right now. What's wrong?"

"Ari dumped me."

His brother gaped at him. "Why?"

"She doesn't think I'm serious. She thinks I'm going to ditch her because of my," he paused to make air quotes, "track record of how fast I go through hobbies."

"How does that even make sense?"

"I don't know... But it's clear as fucking crystal in her head."

"You told her you're going to be playing here next year?"

"Doesn't matter, man. She doesn't think I'm into her enough to stick around permanently."

He stomped down the hall to the spare room. He'd never seen anything wrong with all of the hobbies he'd tried. Why the hell would she equate herself with one anyway? And why couldn't she trust him?

He grabbed a box from the closet and began throwing things in at random. He wanted it gone. Now.

"Here." Dylan came in, carrying two cups of coffee. "This will make you feel better."

"No thanks."

Dylan set them on an old desk and then pressed his palm to Rod's forehead, just like their mom used to do when checking for a temperature. "You've never turned down coffee in your life."

He pushed his brother's hand away. "Come on, man. I'm not in the mood for joking around."

"I actually wasn't joking. Happy, sad, angry, and everything in between, you're always in the mood for coffee. So the fact that you don't want it is huge. If you want to talk about what happened with Arielle, I'll listen. If you don't, then maybe we should go to the gym and work off your steam. Or I'll leave you alone. Your call."

"Stay. Help me box things up." He gestured at the equipment and items around them. "I want it all out of here."

They worked in silence for a while. Dylan didn't force him to talk about Arielle or make jokes about any of the things he shoved in boxes or bags. The silent, solid support meant a lot.

Then Rod reached the art supplies and drafting table, and fresh hurt and anger surged through his blood. "I went over there feeling on top of the world. So sure she'd be thrilled with the news. But no. Instead, she's telling me that she didn't get the teaching job, and she can't find any job, and then that morphed into telling me we made a mistake. Apparently, I have the attention span of a gnat when it comes to holding an interest in something, and she thinks she's just the next in line."

"You guys had a fight?"

"More like loud talking in angry voices. And some hurtful things may have been said on both sides. I just don't get it, man. I mean, where did this come from? She was fine a few days ago. At least, I thought she was. If it's the job, I offered to help her if she needed money, but she wouldn't take it."

"Not having a job and not being able to find one for a long time is a scary thing. I can understand that. I can also understand not wanting to take money from someone."

"Me too, I guess, but I want to help her. I don't care about the money. I care about her." He stretched and sighed. "Even if I was able to help her find a job that she could keep no matter where I end up playing, that doesn't account for what she said about my track record, or about how she's not sure I'm serious about her."

"Maybe seeing Matt again reminded her of how bad things had gotten between them. Or how he was a cheating loser."

"If that asshole is the reason she walked away..." He dropped his old boxing gloves and sparring pads into a bag, then added the rock climbing gear.

How was trying new things wrong? If something intrigued, wasn't it worth further exploration? He understood that people could get together and then figure out they weren't compatible. Or that while one person was the other's everything, it wasn't always reciprocated. But he and Arielle shared a connection that ran deep.

He'd thought of Arielle as the other half of his heart. But maybe he wasn't hers. Or maybe being that for each other just wasn't enough.

With a sigh, he set the bag down and paced the room. "Maybe there was a reason we'd never gotten together before. Maybe the universe was keeping us apart for our own good. Maybe we really don't fit or belong together."

Dylan snorted. "Anyone who has seen the two of you together can see that you're perfect for each other."

"I'd thought so. But it won't work if she doesn't trust me. Or if I can't trust her to be open about her feelings and not keep things bottled up. I didn't see what happened tonight coming at all."

"You're not a mind reader. But now that the air has more or less been cleared, and you both know where the other is coming from, you have a choice. Do you fight for what you want or do you walk away?"

The beat of his heart told him the answer. "I don't want to lose her."

"Then you have to do something to prove that you're serious about her."

Rod nodded. He understood that. He really did. And he was ready to do whatever it took. "But what?"

"Drink your coffee, maybe it will spark something brilliant."

He smirked at his brother, but picked up the coffee. "It's cold."

"So warm it up."

He was nice and carried both his mug and Dylan's to the kitchen, and even placed Dylan's in the microwave first. His gaze drifted to the table, where he and Arielle had shared dinner and morning coffee together, and to the spot where he'd kissed her and told her that there was no one else who'd made him feel the way she did.

Dylan came in and leaned on the counter. "If it's solely a trust issue, only time will show her that you're all-in."

He rubbed his hand over his heart. "I'm ready to give her forever. I just don't know what to do to convince her of how I feel."

|  |

---|---|---

# Chapter Ten

--------

NIGHTMARES OF FIGHTING with Rod, of being cast aside by Kelsey and Ben and being left all alone, plagued her dreams. Arielle stumbled into the spare bedroom and stared at the blank canvas waiting on her easel. Paint perfumed the air, comfortable and familiar. She sipped coffee from her art school mug and peered at the colors she'd set out before heading to the coffee pot.

Caffeine cleared the mist of dreams, but reality called for something stronger, like vodka or a getaway car. Only, she couldn't get away. She was stuck here in the same town as Rod, and likely to run into him often. At least for the upcoming year. Her friendship with Kelsey would no doubt be strained, and she wasn't sure what would happen when Rod stopped into the coffee shop, or she saw him with Ben and Jacob. Or what would she do the first time she saw him with a date.

At the very idea, despair sliced into her stomach. She set the coffee aside and slashed angry red on the canvas. So many things were going to change.

The door opened then closed behind her. Ben strode into the room. "Okay, what's wrong?"

She added more red. "Wrong?"

"You've been painting like crazy for the past week." He gestured to the canvasses lining the walls of the room. The chaotic swirls of color showed her moods and emotions. "You haven't been on a tear like this since you broke up with Matt."

Her chest tightened in the space where her heart had once beat joyfully. She grabbed a new brush and spattered black over the red.

"You also haven't been sleeping well or eating enough, or seen or mentioned Rod. And he hasn't been to the coffee shop."

More black met the canvas as the storm inside her whirled.

"Even Jacob has noticed that something's wrong. Are you still upset over losing that job? Talk to me." He pulled the paintbrush from her grasp.

With something close to a snarl, she tossed her hair out of her face and wiped her hands on a rag. "Rod and I are finished."

His brows shot up and then his eyes narrowed, and her protective older brother expression schooled his features into stone. "What happened?"

"I made so many mistakes with Matt. I didn't want a repeat of them with Rod."

"Why would you think that would happen?"

"You know what happened--I spent so many years following Matt around, and could only get part-time or substitute teaching positions. I never had a chance to gain any ground, and I'm going nowhere. I owe so much on those loans, and that car loan too. If I follow Rod around, the same thing's going to happen. I'll never get ahead."

"Rod is on a higher level than Matt. Yes, there's a chance Rod could be traded, but he hasn't hopped around teams with the frequency that Matt has."

She inhaled deep while her thoughts spun into a tornado rivaling the swirls on the canvas. "He told the reporter at the ceremony that he'd play in Europe if given the chance."

"So?"

"So..." She blinked at him. "He never talked to me about that. Never told me he was considering it, or what he thought about it, or whether he even really wanted to do it."

"He hasn't heard anything great from any teams in the league, so he's not going to burn any bridges or turn away any potential opportunities. He couldn't say no on camera."

That made sense. Her shoulders sagged. "It hurt my feelings that he never discussed it with me."

Ben gently touched her shoulder. "I get it. I do. And if he seriously was considering it, then he should have, considering how he seems to feel about you. You care about him a lot, hmm?"

She sighed and walked to the window. Gray skies and a steady drizzle, the world matched her mood. "At the ceremony, Matt said..."

"Shit." Ben joined her at the window. "What the hell did that idiot say to you?"

"That I wasn't anything special, that Rod would grow bored with me, and that all the women who would be hanging around him and opportunities coming his way, especially now that he's won the Cup, would be too much to resist."

"Screw what Matt said. He's an immature asshole who doesn't know the first thing about how to treat a woman or have a relationship, which you should know better than anyone. Why the hell would you listen to him?"

"We were together for a long time. And he knows what it's like to have all that attention from the female fans."

Ben dragged his hands through his hair. "God. Ari, listen. Rod's been my best friend for twelve years. And he's been dealing with all that attention for a while, in the three years he's been with the Rage, and the five years he was in the minors before that, and hell, even back in college. But in all that time, the only woman Rod has mentioned with any consistency is you."

Rod's words, how he'd had a thing for her for years, echoed in her head. She wrapped her arms around her waist. "I guess... I guess I was scared. I was a naive idiot when it came to Matt, and it crushed me. I can't go through that again with Rod. It would do more than crush me. It would shatter me."

Her whispered admission hung in the air. Saying the words out loud made them even more real.

Ben guided her over to the small couch by the window on the opposite side of the room. He moved two canvasses aside and then gestured for her to sit. "If I look back on things over the years, I can see hints of how Rod felt about you. He'd always ask about you whenever we spoke. Always. And the way he's looked at you since he's been back has been the way he's looked at you for a while. He really hasn't dated all that much over the years, and never anything serious. And before you fly off the handle and worry that he's not serious about you, well, I think he was always waiting for you."

Waiting all that time? For her? Was she really that special to him? Arielle glanced at the sketch of him with the Cup lying on the small table by the couch. She wanted to believe it was true. But the one worry wouldn't fade. "What if he's really just caught up in the thrill of a new experience? You know his habit of picking up and then dropping hobbies. What if I'm going to be cast aside when the thrill has worn off?"

"Knowing him the way I do, I don't think that's true. But that's a risk you have to take. You came home with your heart broken and you rebuilt your life. Yes, that sucked, but you're stronger than you know. You could pick up the pieces again if you had to."

"You helped me do it, giving me a place to stay and a job and a shoulder to cry on. I'm so grateful that you were always here for me."

"I'll always be here for you. Jacob will too." He hugged her. "You were there for me when Cassandra died. And you've helped take care of Jacob. We stick together, no matter what."

"Thank you." She pulled away. "But what am I going to do about another job? You can't afford to give me more hours at the coffee shop, and I can't get anyone else to give me a chance. You can't be thrilled that I'm still living in your house either."

"We'll work it out. Don't worry. It's been great having you here, and you can stay as long as you need. I was thinking you could hang some more art on the walls at the shop and we can try to sell it. It's not much, but it's a start."

"I can do that. I'll try anything."

"You've been at this job search for so long. Something will turn up soon."

"I hope so." She leaned over and picked up the sketch of Rod. "I keep trying."

"I want you to talk to Rod." Ben raised his brow and then his hand and he pointed to the sketch. "Talk to him. You can't base decisions on worry or fear. You need to talk things out."

If she did go all-in into a relationship with Rod and then lose him, it would gut her. But Ben was right. Just like a bone healed stronger after a break, the past year had shown she was stronger than she'd believed, shyness and all. "I don't want to make a mistake."

"Life's full of them, and you can't let that hold you back. You need to decide what you want most."

The answer looked back at her from the sketch. She traced her finger over Rod's face. "Of course, I want him. I love him."

"Then all that's left to decide is what you're going to do about it."

* * * * *

ROD PARKED HIS SUV outside Ben's coffee shop and took a deep breath. Being without Arielle had been hell. The thirteen days since he'd seen her had felt like a lifetime.

He hadn't had her with him when he signed his contract in the Bedlam's front office. Or at the press conference where he'd pulled on the Bedlam jersey for the first time. The happiest day of his professional hockey career had been marred by the cloud of frustration and heartbreak.

Brainstorming with Dylan and Kelsey, their parents, Ben, and even his new teammates had helped him come up with a solution to hopefully win back Arielle. And he had Ben to thank for giving him a way to accomplish it. With another breath, he climbed out and squared his shoulders.

Dylan's car pulled up next to him. His brother and three of the Bedlam players piled out. Dylan clapped him on the back. "Ready?"

"Yeah." His heart beat uncomfortably in his chest. This had to work. He grabbed the large box from the backseat and slammed the door. Timing would be crucial. He'd worked it out as best he could. "Everything is set?"

"All confirmed and ready to go." He nodded at the five-vehicle caravan that pulled into the parking lot. "I'll get everyone in place. Go get your woman."

"Thanks, bro. I owe you." Rod strode to the front door. Noise from the Saturday lunch crowd flowed over him when he walked into the shop.

Ben stood behind the counter, pouring coffee into a mug. His oldest friend gave him a smile and a thumbs up, then he pointed to the break room. "She's in there."

"Thanks." Hefting the box, Rod marched to the door and thrust it open. Arielle sat at a table in the small, sun-drenched room. A sketch pad and a coffee set out in front of her. She looked thinner, more drawn, and the sadness in her gaze gutted him.

Her head snapped up. Eyes widening, she stood. "What are you doing here?"

"Showing you how serious I am about us." He set the box on the table and then unearthed his new Bedlam goalie mask. The shiny masterpiece in black and white and blue gleamed under the lights. The design company had put in extra hours to get it ready for him in time.

Her brows drew together and lines formed on her forehead. "What does your mask have to do with--"

"Look." He rotated it to the side. The space that had held the famed coffee cup on his previous helmets now held a picture of Arielle, framed by a heart.

Her mouth dropped open. "Me? You put me on your helmet?"

"Everyone in the league and all the fans know about my love of coffee, thanks to the decal I had on my old masks. Now, everyone everywhere will know about you."

Her eyes darted to meet his gaze. "About me? Then this means..."

"It means that I want everyone to know about you and what you mean to me."

"I can't believe it." She traced her finger over the heart, and his own beat harder.

"I hope you believe this." He laid his hand over hers and gently squeezed. "I love you. More than hockey. More than coffee. More than anything."

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, then she swallowed and her green eyes, misty with tears, captured his gaze. "Rod, I--"

Tears, especially hers, undid him. He grasped her shoulders in his hands. "That's not going to change in three weeks, three months, or three years. You are all I've ever wanted. You. Even when I couldn't have you. By my calculations, I've had a thing for you for twelve years straight. That's definitely beaten my record of how long new hobbies have held my attention."

She placed her hand on his chest, over his heart. "I pushed you away because I was so afraid of what would happen if I lost you, and I let my fears and insecurities win. I do love you. You have to know that."

He took a deep breath and let her words soothe his soul. Then he gently squeezed her shoulders. "I wish you would've come to me with your worries."

"I'm sorry. I should have. Instead, I panicked over not getting the job and let that panic overtake everything. I'm still not sure what's going to happen on the job front, but I as long as I have another chance with you, everything else will fall into place."

"I meant what I said about what's mine is yours. I know you're worried about a job, and I think I can help with that too." He reached into the box and then withdrew an envelope with the Bedlam's logo. "Here. Open it."

"What's this?" She tugged out and unfolded the single sheet of paper and her brows rose and eyes rounded as she read the contents. Finally, she raised her gaze to his. "The team's creative director wants to meet with me to discuss bringing me on board."

Rod nodded. "I heard they had an opening in that department, so I talked to her about you and how talented you are. And I showed her the sketch you drew of me. She was impressed, and then Dylan and the guys mentioned to her that they all wanted you to do sketches of them too. I also told her that you'd done the paintings here and that you'd created the graphics and logo for the shop. After all that, she really wanted to meet you."

Fresh tears shimmered in her eyes, making the green sparkle. Arielle dropped the letter on the table and then wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug. "Thank you. I can't thank you enough. Just to have this opportunity is amazing."

He hugged her tight, soaking up how good it felt to have her back in his arms. "Working for the team is kind of a family thing. It's only right that you'll be doing that too."

She pulled back and that pretty blush rose high in her cheeks. "I've been trying to come up with the right words to say to you for days. Ben helped me see that I was over-thinking and over-worrying. I'm sorry."

"Just promise that going forward, we'll keep everything in the open. No worrying in secret."

"I promise to come to you and talk to you about everything, before things can get out of control."

"Good. You know, the media has had a chance to meet my family. They even met Ben and Jacob the day we had the Cup here. But they haven't had a chance to meet you, and I really want them to." Holding her hand, he grabbed his mask and backed toward the door. "Maybe this will make up for that."

Hopefully, everyone was in place. He pushed the door open.

The coffee shop was filled with their families and friends, members of the Bedlam, the reporters from the local paper and television news station who had attended the ceremony at the high school, and the shop's customers. Lights flashed and the attention of fifty people rested squarely upon them.

Arielle jerked back. "What's all this?"

Rod tightened his hold on her hand. "Everyone, I'd like to formally introduce Arielle. She's the love of my life, and the woman surrounded by the heart on my goalie mask." He lifted the mask high and waited while more people snapped pictures. "My thanks to the Bedlam organization for giving me an opportunity to play in the city I love, for the fans I love, and to live here with my family and the woman I love."

He set the mask on the counter and turned to face her. "I do love you, Ari."

"I love you, too." Her voice soothed his ravaged soul. "And I want you. In my life. By my side. With me. Always."

"You can have me. And I'll have you. I'm yours forever." His hand trembled when he brushed her cheek, and he bent until his lips found hers. At the touch, he was both weakened and made stronger.

Catcalls and applause rose around them. Laughing, he rested their foreheads together. "I know you don't like to be pushed into the spotlight, but I wanted to tell the world how happy I am to have you in my life."

She smiled, and her cheeks flamed red. "I don't mind as long as you're with me."

He banded his arms around her, holding her as close to his heart as possible. "There's no place else I'd rather be."

|  |

---|---|---

# Chapter Eleven

--------

SIX MONTHS LATER...

Some men searched for booze to quell nerves, but Rod had learned there was very little coffee couldn't fix.

He poured the hot brew into the heart-shaped mugs he'd borrowed from Ben, added cream and sugar to both, and then extra sugar into the one for his sweetheart.

Today was the day. Hopped up from nerves and anticipation and excitement, he patted his front pocket, where he'd stowed the ring he'd purchased.

With the world decorated in red and pink and hearts, Valentine's Day was the perfect day to ask Arielle to be his wife.

And speaking of perfect, life was just about that way. Arielle loved her job working with the Bedlam's creative department. She had moved in with him after Thanksgiving, and being with her every morning and every night made him the happiest guy in the world. They were still living in the house he shared with Dylan. Eventually, they'd get their own place, but for now, he was enjoying the hell out of being on the same team as his brother, and sharing rides to and from the rink.

Being the starting goaltender for the Bedlam was a dream job, and he busted his ass both in games and at practice, working hard to make sure he deserved to be in the net. The best part, besides lining up on the ice next to Dylan for the National Anthem and being there to celebrate every goal together, was seeing their dad's face when they both wore the Bedlam black and blue for the first time. Dad had been beaming and telling everyone about his two boys, and how having them both on his old team had been his dream.

More than one dream had come true with his signing with the team.

And Rod's own dream-come-true was sound asleep upstairs. Being with Arielle made every day and every experience more vibrant. They brought out the best in each other. He breathed deep, happiness beating in his chest like a drum. He'd never thought he'd be smiling stupidly at the way the heart mugs fit together, but here he was, doing just that.

Dylan strolled into the room, shrugging into his coat. He eyed the mugs and grinned. "Ready to do it?"

Rod smiled back and patted his pocket again. "More than ready. Thanks again for giving us some privacy for this." When he'd shared his plans with Dylan, his brother had volunteered to make himself scarce. Dylan was the best. Rod owed him for a lot, but mostly for knowing what he needed without Rod having to ask. Someday, he'd pay him back.

"No problem. I'm heading over to Kelsey's, then we'll be at Mom and Dad's later for brunch. Ben said he'll be there with Jacob too. So, when you guys call with your good news, we'll all be in one place to help you celebrate."

"I'm happy the schedule worked out with us having today as an off day." No games or practice today meant nothing would keep him from spending every minute with Arielle.

"Me too." Dylan hugged him. "See you later."

Rod waited until Dylan's car exited the snow-covered driveway, then he set the mugs on a tray and took his time walking to the bedroom.

He nudged the door open, and his gaze landed on the two sketches Arielle had drawn of him, hanging on the wall, framed in dark wood. The first, from their high school days, was the beginning of their relationship, the second, from his day with the Cup, was at a turning point in that relationship. Eventually, they'd need to add one more: he wanted a sketch of both of them, on their wedding day. He was pretty sure he could convince her to draw that one.

Arielle sat up in their bed, shaking her tussled curls out of her face, and his heart swelled with love. "Good morning."

"Happy Valentine's Day."

"To you, too. Oh, coffee." She leaned her head back for his kiss, and then accepted one of the mugs from the tray. "These look familiar."

"They should. Ben needs them back tomorrow."

A line formed between her brows. "Why would you borrow mugs from the shop? You have the biggest coffee cup collection of anyone I know."

He shrugged. "I didn't have romantic mugs."

Her eyes softened, and she smiled. "Then we'll have to get some we can keep."

He set his mug and then hers on the bedside table and stood. Heart beating hard, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring. The oval solitaire winked in the light. "Maybe Ben will give them to us as a wedding present."

Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened. Then they filled, and she raised her hands to her lips.

"Ari?" Rod knelt on the bed. His palms began to sweat. "What do you say? Will you marry me?"

Then she was crying and nodding and pushing into his arms, wrapping her own around him. "Yes. Of course, I will."

Happiness pulsed through him, more potent than any hit of caffeine. He pulled back until they were face to face and the joy radiating from hers caused his own to spill over. He slipped the ring on her finger and grinned at how perfect it looked there. "I know I've said it before, but I do love you more than I love hockey. I love you more than I love coffee. Hell, I'd give up coffee for you."

"That's pretty drastic. I'd never make you do that." She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him.

They sank back on the bed. Rod kissed her over and over. Every time he caught sight of the ring, he kissed her again.

In the span of half a year, he had everything he'd ever wanted. Family and friends close by, the best job in the world, and with the woman beside him--the other half of his heart.

Being with Arielle completed him in ways he couldn't ever have imagined. Twelve years was a long time to wait for a dream come true. He intended to spend forever showing her how grateful he was that she'd given him a chance.

|  |

---|---|---

# Thank You

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR reading Making His Move! I would appreciate it if you would help others enjoy this book too! Please recommend to others and leave a review.

Sign up for my newsletter to get all the latest news on new releases and special events.

|  |

---|---|---

# About The Author

USA TODAY Bestselling Author Susan Scott Shelley writes stories with heat and heart, where love always wins. Her romances give readers lighthearted and emotionally satisfying escapes into happily ever after. In addition to crafting stories, she is also a professional voiceover artist and enjoys lending her voice to a wide range of projects.

She lives in Philadelphia with her husband and is an avid fan of her hometown sports teams. Her favorite things include running (honestly, it's more like jogging), sports (especially hockey), hard rock (but will listen to anything from heavy metal to show tunes), and writing about people from all walks of life finding their special someone.

Learn more at SusanScottShelley.com.

|  |

---|---|---

# Acknowledgements

THANK YOU AS ALWAYS to my beta reader/brainstorming team: Jackie, Beth, Chantel, Kate, and Tina. You are the best!

Thank you to my husband Scott for all the support and encouragement and cups of coffee.

Thank you to my readers! I love hearing from you!

|  |

---|---|---

# Susan's Books

MAKING HIS MOVE (Buffalo Bedlam series)

Taking His Shot (Buffalo Bedlam series)

Fighting For More (Buffalo Bedlam series)

Skating on Chance (Buffalo Bedlam series)

Holding on Tight (Buffalo Bedlam series)

Scoring Slater (Buffalo Bedlam series) - coming soon

Mad Scramble (Philadelphia Frenzy series)

Hometown Hero (Philadelphia Frenzy series)

Sugar Crush (Bliss Bakery series)

Kiss Me Again (Holiday Hearts series)

More Than Words (Holiday Hearts series)

All I Want (Holiday Hearts series)

Marry Me (Holiday Hearts series)

Holiday Hearts box set (Containing books 1, 2, 3, & 4 of the Holiday Hearts series)

Love Notes (Rocked by Love series)

Love Song (Rocked by Love series)

Rekindled (Game of Love series)

Captivated (Game of Love series)

Enamored (Game of Love series)

Game of Love - the complete collection (Containing books 1, 2, 3 of the Game of Love series)

Iced: box set (Containing books 1&2 of Atlantic City Hustlers series)

Simmering Ice (Atlantic City Hustlers series)

Flirting on Ice (Atlantic City Hustlers series)

Tackled by the Girl Next Door

Sign up for my newsletter to get all the latest new release news!

<<<<>>>>
