Just Add Ice, page 7
“Go find someone else to annoy, Seavers!” Capmany shoved playfully at Nick.
Nick gasped, hand going to his chest, pretending offense. “I’m just trying to help.”
Capmany laughed and looked up, grinning when he spotted Rayne and Kelly. He waved and then pointed his spatula in their direction. “Go bug the newbies.”
Nick scanned the partygoers, his gaze freezing when it landed on Rayne, and Rayne’s breath caught in his throat. He barely knew Nick Seavers, today being the first time he’d ever seen him out of his station wear, but that didn’t matter. Nick was the only person Rayne saw when he was near, and the only person who filled his thoughts when they were apart. He’d never met anyone in his life who demanded as much of his attention as Nick did, simply by being there.
“Oh-oh.” Kelly turned to face him, pulling him from his wandering thoughts. “Incoming.”
Rayne glanced over her shoulder and bit back a groan. Brownlow must have just arrived, because Rayne hadn’t noticed him before, and he was headed their way.
Lucky me.
Rayne clenched his jaw. The last person he wanted to see at a party—or anywhere else, for that matter—was Rex Brownlow.
“Hey, Wash,” Brownlow said. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts. “Hamilton.”
“Brownlow.”
Rayne hoped the guy had put on liberal amounts of sunscreen because Rayne wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone as pasty white as Brownlow.
“I’m not a puck bunny.” Brownlow’s eyes widened, as though he hadn’t intended on saying that. His cheeks colored.
“Uh, okay.” Rayne frowned, shooting a sideways glance at Kelly. Her eyes were also wide, and her brows raised.
“Right. Yeah.” Brownlow cleared his throat. “So, uh. I may have misjudged you.” He glanced away and surprise shot through Rayne at the sheepish bow of his head and forward roll of his shoulders. Brownlow was serious. “I realize now that you weren’t just trying to skirt through training using your celebrity status and flirting with the instructors.”
“No, I wasn’t,” Rayne said without the irritation he’d have expected at Brownlow’s insulting comment. “I’m not the celebrity you seem to think I am. Most people I meet have never even heard of me. Or the Blitz. And I wasn’t flirting with all the instructors.”
“No.” Brownlow smiled for the first time since Rayne had met him, and it completely changed his appearance. When he loosened up a little and didn’t take everything so seriously, he was actually . . . an attractive man. “Just the one.”
And there’s the jerk we all know.
Rayne didn’t reply, but his gaze searched out the man in question of its own accord. He spotted Nick talking with Garcia, Verlice, and Jenny. As though Nick could feel Rayne’s eyes on him, he glanced unerringly at Rayne. A grin ghosted across his lips before he returned to his conversation.
“Well,” Brownlow said, drawing Rayne’s attention back to him. “Maybe I’ll see you on the job.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and sauntered off toward the coolers.
Rayne exchanged a look with Kelly, whose expression was as surprised and confused as he felt.
“What was that?”
She shrugged and snort-laughed. “I have no idea.”
“Did I miss something?” Nick said as he appeared at Rayne’s side, gaze bouncing between him and Kelly.
“Just Hamilton making friends everywhere he goes,” Kelly chirped with amusement in her voice. She slid a mischievous look at Rayne before putting her bottle down. “I think I’m going to jump in the pool.”
Rayne stood alone with Nick, suddenly feeling awkward and unsure of what to say. He took a draught of his pale ale.
“So . . .” Nick began, but he had to be feeling the same as Rayne because he didn’t continue.
“So . . .” Rayne echoed, pulling a grin out of Nick. “You haven’t called me yet.”
Nick chuckled, effectively breaking the awkward moment.
“It’s only been a few days,” he said, as if Rayne didn’t know. But Rayne knew how long it had been down to the minute—12,780 minutes. Ish.
“Yeah, well,” Rayne deadpanned. “I would’ve called you that night.”
“Eager, are you?” Nick’s eyes glittered and a small smile lit his face.
Rayne opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out was “oof” when eighty pounds of canine bounded into him and began dancing around his legs.
“Hey there, Roo.” He kneeled, bracing himself so she didn’t upend him, and accepted her sloppy dog kisses as she wriggled against him.
“Watch she doesn’t get that tongue in your mouth,” Nick teased.
And just like that, a mental slideshow of all the dirty things Rayne would like Nick to do to him with his tongue flashed through Rayne’s mind. He didn’t know what showed on his face when he looked up at Nick, but that beautiful pink blush slashed across Nick’s cheeks.
Nick tipped his head. “Let’s sit down.”
Roo followed on their heels and plopped down at their feet as they sat in a couple of patio chairs near the far corner of the pool, but away from where most of the partygoers and kids were congregated. The chairs were close enough that Rayne’s knee touched Nick’s, his chest fluttering when Nick didn’t move away.
“I was hoping you would be here today,” Nick began, his soft-spoken words warming Rayne like a ray of sunshine.
“Is that so?” Rayne couldn’t help grinning.
“I wanted to clarify.” Nick lowered his voice. “I didn’t want you to take what I said before the wrong way, about not dating and not being ready to. Because I do. I want to. With you. But . . .” He loosed a breath as he stared at his beer bottle, as if it held the words he was looking for. He lifted his gaze. “I was married.”
Rayne’s heart stuttered. Nick is married? But then his mind caught up. Nick was married. As in, now divorced and single. Rayne had been right about a nasty breakup holding Nick back.
“My husband. He . . . died suddenly a couple of years ago.” Nick swallowed, his Adam’s apple working, and looked away.
Rayne’s heart squeezed, a painful ache burrowing inside for Nick’s tragic loss. He wanted to pull Nick close to him, comfort him, but wasn’t sure if it would be appreciated. Especially at a party with his coworkers and friends all around.
“I’m so sorry,” Rayne said softly, meaning it with everything in him.
Nick nodded, picking at the label on his beer bottle. “Thanks.”
It was one word, but Rayne had never heard a single word sound so broken.
“How long were you together? If you don’t mind my asking.”
“Since we were sixteen.” Nick grinned—fast and fleeting—his eyes going distant and dreamy. “He was my high school sweetheart. We were married for six years, before . . .”
Rayne didn’t think. He leaned over and slipped his arm around Nick’s shoulders, and Nick fell willingly into his side. Rayne didn’t check to see if anyone was looking, and he didn’t care. Not when Nick so clearly needed comfort. Nothing mattered more in that moment. He didn’t speak, didn’t voice whatever might be the right platitudes or encouragements. Grief wasn’t something he’d ever had to deal with—not in the loss of a loved one kind of way, just the continued eating away of hope for a genuine family by the consistent neglect of the people he’d been born to.
“The thing is.” Nick straightened up, pulling away from Rayne, who immediately missed the warmth of his body. “I haven’t had a single spark of interest in anyone since then. Not even a flicker.” He huffed and shook his head. “I was starting to think I never would again.”
“Until me,” Rayne quipped, hoping to infuse a little levity and immediately regretting not keeping the thought to himself.
Nick chuckled and bumped his knee against Rayne’s.
“Until you,” he repeated.
He met Rayne’s gaze, his smile lingering, the creases of his eyes softening, and Rayne relaxed, grateful his lack of brain-to-mouth filter hadn’t upset Nick.
“But . . .” Nick began, and Rayne braced himself. Nothing good ever started with ‘but.’ “Even though I’m attracted to you, I’m not sure I’m ready to do anything about it.”
Nope. Understandable, but not good.
Rayne swallowed. Disappointment scraped down his throat like shards of glass. “I get that. I’m not going to push you, especially now that I know what you’ve been through. But I’ll be here when—if—you’re ready.”
Rayne hoped he would still be in Boulder and not signed to some other city in another state before Nick was ready. Because he knew, deep down, that Nick Seavers was someone worth waiting for.
“Thank you for that.”
“I can’t guarantee that I won’t still flirt with you,” Rayne quipped.
“Please don’t stop.” Nick chuckled and bumped their shoulders. “It’s good for my ego.”
“Well then. Expect lots of stroking,” Rayne teased, and then heat raced up his neck and into his cheeks. “Ego stroking, I mean. Unless . . .”
A laugh burst from Nick at that. Loud and loose and full, and one of the most beautiful sounds Rayne had ever heard. He felt like he’d just won the lottery. Roo lifted her head from her paws, tail wagging in agreement, and a few curious partygoers turned their way.
“So,” Nick said after a moment of quiet between them. “What got you into hockey?”
Rayne shifted in his suddenly uncomfortable chair. He didn’t want to get into the whole sad story about his hockey origins. He avoided talking about his past as much as possible, even when people told him over and over that talking would help him let go of his anger and move on. But Nick had revealed something heavy and personal, so it was only fair that Rayne reciprocate.
“Third-grade teacher,” Rayne said. “Believe it or not.”
Nick tipped his head. “I believe it. Some teachers are better than parents.”
Rayne huffed under his breath. Nick had no idea how right he was.
“Every teacher was better than my parents. They never should’ve had kids. They couldn’t even take care of themselves.” Rayne took a swig of his beer, the taste as bitter as his memories. “Half the time they didn’t even know I was there. When they did acknowledge my existence, it was with annoyance or derision.”
Roo put her paw on Rayne’s foot, like a tap, looking up at him with warm amber eyes, as though she understood what he’d gone through. He leaned down to pet her.
“School wasn’t much better,” Rayne continued, not looking at Nick as he spoke. “I got teased and bullied for being the weird skinny kid with the hand-me-down clothes who never had lunch or lunch money. I started getting into a lot of fights and disrupting class until my teacher, Mr. Kim, pulled me aside and told me he coached a local youth hockey club and that I should try out, and if I liked it, he’d sponsor me.” Rayne grinned fondly, remembering how kind Mr. Kim had been to him. “I was skeptical at first, but I went and turned out I loved it. I still got into fights, but it wasn’t long before the fights were only on the ice.”
“I’m sorry your parents weren’t there for you,” Nick said, the regret in his voice genuine. “But I’m happy your teacher steered you in a positive direction.”
Rayne nodded and sat up. “Me too. The world could do with more Mr. Kims.”
A peaceful silence fell between them as Rayne thought about the paths of his life that had led him to this moment. And not for the first time, how much he wanted to stay here in Boulder permanently.
“Is that how you got the ‘Rain the Pain’ nickname?” Nick asked, breaking the silence. “From fighting on the ice.”
“Yeah.” Rayne leaned back and crossed his ankles. “I learned to channel my anger into hockey, but then hockey taught me I didn’t need to be so angry anymore. I’d found my people.”
Someone had turned on a bubble machine, and translucent rainbow bubbles drifted lazily on gentle air currents before popping. Like the people in his life. Yes, he’d found his people in hockey, but except for a few, they were as transient and changing as the sport. But here in Boulder he’d found new people. People that had roots and long histories, and he so desperately wanted to be a part of that, too.
“So, why firefighter training instead of playing for the Denver Mustangs?” Nick asked, snapping Rayne out of thoughts. “The Blitz is their farm team, aren’t they?”
“They are,” Rayne answered as he watched a bubble settle onto his knee and blink out. “But most guys in the PHL never make it to the big show. I’ve been playing in the minor league eight years now and haven’t been called up even once. I don’t think the call is coming at this point.” He chuckled without mirth. He couldn’t believe he was about to say this, but . . . “Hockey is a young man’s sport.”
“You are a young man,” Nick argued, shock raising the pitch of his usually soft voice.
“Not in hockey.” Rayne laughed. “You’re an old man by thirty and most players are fully retired before they’re thirty-five. If not earlier.”
Nick gasped, his eyes wide and eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. “Are you calling me an old man?”
Shit. Rayne was about to grovel when a grin split Nick’s face and the light in his eyes glowed. He shoved playfully at Nick’s shoulder.
“You are definitely not an old man,” Rayne assured. “But out of curiosity, how old are you, anyway?”
“Thirty-one,” Nick replied and sighed. “But sometimes I feel like I’m fifty.”
Rayne studied Nick as he looked forward. The late afternoon sun painted the ends of his dark hair bright red, his nose had a cute little lift at the end, and his square jaw was dusted with stubble. There were fainted crease lines in the corners of his eyes, but there was nothing fifty about him. He was young and vital, and a roaring wave of want crashed through Rayne.
But the roaring wave tasted like chlorine.
Roo trotted away as Rayne wiped water from his face, and Thatcher laughed from the edge of the pool.
“Are you going to swim?” Thatcher splashed water at him again to make his point.
Beside him Nick chuckled, his clothing speckled with water drops, but he’d luckily been spared the full brunt of Thatcher’s antics. Roo now off chasing bubbles with the kids.
“Go,” Nick said.
Rayne pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it to Nick with a grin, puffing out his chest when Nick’s gaze fell to his torso and the heat of his stare seared Rayne’s skin and raced through his veins. Seconds away from sporting a major wood, he spun around and cannonballed into the pool, splashing everybody within an eight-foot radius, earning shouts and laughter.
He roughhoused in the water for a while, but every time he sought Nick out, Nick was watching him with rapt attention.
After swimming and devouring Capmany’s incredible barbecue burgers—Verlice was right about how good his food was—Nick stood and called Roo over.
“I think it’s time for us to head home,” he said, snapping the leash to Roo’s collar.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” Rayne said, jumping up.
Another half hour of thank yous and goodbyes later, Rayne stood by Nick’s truck, waiting as he opened the door for Roo to hop in. Nick turned to face him, and a sense of anticipation swirled in the air between them.
“So . . .” Rayne didn’t want the day to end, didn’t like not knowing when he’d see Nick again. “I, uh . . . Really want to see you again. Just so that’s out there.”
Nick chuckled, the sound warm and easy burrowing into Rayne’s chest. “I’m aware.”
“Now that I know why you’re not ready yet, I’m going to behave and let you go,” Rayne said. “But you have my number.”
“I do,” Nick said, his voice low and silky.
But Nick didn’t make to move, and neither did Rayne. Energy swirled around Rayne and between them, growing more and more kinetic, until Rayne leaned closer, his body moving forward of its own volition. A voice in the back of his mind warned him to stop, but Nick was standing right there looking so damn delicious, with the rising moon limning the outline of his jaw and haloing on his dark hair.
Nick didn’t back away. He licked his lips, the movement drawing Rayne’s eyes. They glistened in the low light, and reasonable thought vanished.
Rayne pressed a soft, chaste kiss on Nick’s mouth. Tingles exploded in every direction from the light touch. Time stood still for a heartbeat, and then it was like something inside Nick unleashed. He snaked a hand around the back of Rayne’s neck, tugged him close so their bodies were fully flush, and kissed him with a ferocity that had Rayne’s knees going weak. Rayne wrapped his arms around Nick’s waist, but he wasn’t sure if it was to pull Nick closer to him or to hang on tight under the mind-blowing onslaught of Nick’s mouth.
He tasted like the beer and burgers they’d had, and something else Rayne couldn’t put a finger on. Something sweet but also savory and one-hundred percent addicting.
As fast as the kiss had ignited, Rayne was suddenly holding empty air and Nick was pressed against the box of his truck. His eyes wide and wild, chest heaving and breath ragged.
“I’m so sorry,” Rayne apologized, horrified at himself for crossing a boundary, for not letting Nick be the one to come to him. He ran a hand through his hair and tugged, embarrassed by his recklessness. “I shouldn’t hav—”
“No,” Nick barked, holding his hand up and shaking his head. “No.” His voice was softer this time, his conviction clear. “You should have, and I’m glad you did, but this is on me. I . . . I’m sorry.” Nick turned away. “I have to go.”
Rayne stood stock still, unable to move as Nick climbed into his truck, fired up the engine, and pulled away from the curb without looking back. Rayne stood there watching until the truck’s taillights disappeared around the corner and the distant rev of its engine faded.
Now more than ever, he knew Nick was who he wanted in his life. He turned his face up to the sky and imagined he could see the hockey stick galaxy—which was impossible to see with the naked eye—and cast a plea into the universe.
