Page 2 of Breaking the Ice

“Bella, can you come back to the locker room?”

Frowning, he listens while I tap my fingers on my thigh.

“Alright, fine,” he replies after a beat. “We’ll meet you outside the doors, if you insist, although I’m sure no one would care if you were in the locker room.”

I’ve never seen this move from him before so I wouldn’t swear to it, but Coach looks heavenward, like he’s rolling his eyes before he turns back to his conversation. “Be there in five minutes, I’ve got a game to prepare for.”

Muttering under his breath, he stalks out of his office, then turns back to me in the doorway. “Well? Are you coming?”

“Uh, yeah.”

I’m half dressed, shuffling around in a pair of socks and slides. I’ve got all my base layers on for the game, but not my full gear yet. It’s awkward, but there’s no time to grab anything else as I follow him.

I’m used to Coach being a little grumpy and gruff. But the agitation that rolls off him in waves after a thirty-second phone call is unexpected. He stays straight faced in the midst of our antics, but this person on the phone has him rolling his eyes? I thought I’d seen everything, but I was wrong.

“Boucher,” he barks to our assistant coach. “Get things started. And Brody, you’re on the first line tonight in Evan’s place.” The words snap out of him as he strides through the locker room. All eyes land on me, clearly wondering why I lost my spot. I keep my gaze on my socks as I trail behind.

We wait outside the locker room for a few minutes, Coach pacing and me in a miserable slump against the wall.

But I straighten when the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen rounds the corner. Luscious curves strain the seams of her black leggings and Harrison hockey jersey. It’s tied up around her midriff, showing off a sliver of her belly that makes my knees weak. Her skin is pale and creamy, and her coppery red hair streams in waves around her heart-shaped face. Her nose has an adorable upturned tilt and her perfect mouth is pursed. Light brows arch over brown eyes that flash in agitation.

She says something to Coach, but I don’t catch it, too wrapped up in watching her plump, wine-colored lips. I’m probably drooling.

I’ve dated a lot of girls. I don’t have a number because that’s gross, but I’m a fan of the female form. Lately, it’s been a lot of skinny sorority chicks. Not because that’s my preference, but it’s what’s available. They know what I’m offering, so it’s fine. It’s gotten a bit predictable, though. It’s like eating a steady diet of salads and then coming face to face with a loaded burger. A stacked redhead? This girl checks all my boxes and then some.

I don’t know how long I zone out, gazing at her, but I tune back into the conversation when I catch my name.

“Evan needs a tutor,” Coach says, jaw clenched, “and you’re good at that stuff.”

“That stuff?” she echoes, voice rising. “And why would I want to tutor a hockey player I don’t even know?”

“I’ll pay you,” I rush to say.

But my beautiful redheaded goddess doesn’t even look at me, just shakes her head and keeps her eyes locked on Coach. “Whatever price you’re offering, it’s not worth it.”

Coach glares. “He needs to pass to play. And it would be good for you to get out of the house. Meet people. Get involved on campus.”

Kinda weird that he knows her living situation. Kinda weird that he knows this girl at all. Maybe she has a connection to the team somehow. Seeing as she’s at the game and wearing a jersey.

“Get involved with hockey, you mean?” Straightening, she draws herself up to her full height, which is probably only five-two. I love it. Makes me feel like I could pick her up and put her in my pocket. Which I would definitely do if she’d let me. “Because I’ve met plenty of people through the fall play, and I don’t want to know him.”

She jerks her thumb in my direction, still without making eye contact with me. Ouch.

Coach balls his fists at his sides. “But the team⁠—”

“He should have studied, then, if the team was so important.”

I blink. This fiery ginger doesn’t pull any punches, that’s for sure. Her skin is flushed a mottled red, and she’s about to spew flames. Why does it make me want to kiss her? Clearly, I have issues.

“But you’re in those classes, right?” Coach steps closer to this girl, pressing into her space. “Or you’ve already taken them and passed? You could do this in your sleep.”

How does he know that? Who is she?

She doesn’t back down. “There are other things I want to do with my time. Like I mentioned—I’m busy with the fall play.”

“You can do both.”

“I can’t.” She finally looks at me, her gaze sweeping up and down my body. Her eyes say I’m found wanting. “I won’t.”