Page 2 of Hot As Ice

“Why? Are you kidding me? You’re waiting on Ryder Storm, Hunter Cruise, and Jamie West right now.”

When I give her a blank stare, she huffs out a breath. “They’re on the hockey team? You know, Concord U’s undefeated hockey team that everyone except you is obsessed with? They’re gods, Stevie. Gods!”

“Mel,” I start.

“Yes, yes, I know you don’t care about sports, but they’re royalty. They run this whole damn town. They’re hot and rich as fuck and I don’t understand how you can be so nonchalant about them coming into this stupid diner tonight when they could be anywhere else.”

As Melanie blabbers on, I run my gaze over the diner, and sure enough, all eyes are on the three “gods” Melanie is currently losing her mind over. Girls are whispering to each other and giggling, not at all subtly, and some guys are walking over to the hockey table and bumping fists with Ryder, Hunter, and Jamie, and probably saying “good game” or whatever you say to sports people. Gag me.

The bartender slides their drinks over to me and I balance them expertly on my tray.

“So,” Mel says, eyes sparkling. “Trade?”

I hate to disappoint her ‘cause she’s a great coworker and friend, but Joe hates when we trade tables (he runs this crappy diner like it’s his own little kingdom), and I haven’t been on good terms with him lately. I don’t want to risk his ire. “I won’t trade with you, but you can go ask them if they want some refills later.”

“Deal.” She squeals and turns away to her own section.

Pasting a cheerful smile on my face, I return to the “hockey gods” table and deliver their drinks, then take their food orders. Blue Eyes/Black Hair keeps staring at me, and I keep staring back. Which one is he, Hunter Cruise or Jamie West? For the first time since I enrolled at Concord University, I wish I had actually paid attention to the damn hockey team.

Whatever. His name shouldn’t matter. I have bigger fish to fry. Like my rent and bills and all the schoolwork I’m behind on. So, why do my eyes drift to his table no matter where I am? Why do our gazes lock too many times for me to count?

The butterflies in my stomach have never fluttered like this.

I’m used to male attention. But I never know what to do with it. I’ve never had a boyfriend. Never felt very strong feelings for any guy I dated. That’s why my reaction to this hockey player is so confusing right now.

Melanie scoots up to me while I’m putting in some orders, lost in thought.

“Okay,” she says in a low voice. “Please tell me you’ve noticed Hunter Cruise staring at you all night.”

So, Blue Eyes/Black Hair is Hunter. Good to know.

I feign indifference. “Really?”

She puts a hand on her hip, giving me a look. “Yes, really. And you’ve been staring back, missy.”

I shrug. “I guess he’s cute.”

Mel gasps dramatically. “You guess? He’s the hottest guy on campus!”

“Hey!” Joe barks, stepping between me and Mel. “I don’t pay you to gossip. Get back to work.”

“Sorry,” Melanie mutters, scurrying away. I don’t apologize, continuing to busy myself with my task. Joe stands there staring at me, then huffs and walks away. Jerk.

As much as I try to ignore Hunter during my busy shift, it’s like there’s an electric current trembling and buzzing between us. My eyes find him time and again, and he’s almost always looking at me when they do. His gaze is unnerving, making my belly flip-flop every time.

Despite the discomfort, I have to check on his table regularly.

And my knees threaten to buckle every time I go up to them. “You guys doing okay?” I ask, feeling extremely self-conscious as I stop by their table. “Can I get you anything else?”

“The check,” Ryder says dismissively. Jamie is scrolling on his phone, but Hunter has his eyes on me and a small, smug smile on his lips.

I bet he knows he’s making me squirm.

Maybe this is all just a game to him.

“Right away,” I say and return with the check a moment later, this time not looking at Hunter at all. I keep myself occupied with my other tables, and the next time I look towards Hunter, he’s gone.

Picking up their bill, my eyes widen at the fat tip they’ve left me. Damn.