CHAPTER 1
Jax – The Face-Off
“Jax, we’ve been down this road before. Your shoulder injury is only getting worse. Keep playing and you’re likely to have permanent damage. You really need to consider retirement. In terms of hockey, you’re a damn senior citizen. Your body’s tired.”
“Shut the hell up doc, and give me the shot.”
He’s not wrong, but I can’t give hockey up yet. The discomfort typically comes and goes, but this morning’s practice was a bitch. The shooting pains emanating from my shoulder down my dominant arm were constant, and only by sheer luck was I able to avoid a hit on my right side during drills.
After the team doc gives me the jab, which hurts like hell, he offers another warning. “This needs to last you for the next couple of months. Get with the trainer and work out a schedule for massage and PT. I’ll write you another script for painkillers, but that’s all I can do.”
I lie back on the exam table and stare at the ceiling, willing the shot to start working its magic. I’m 35-fucking-years old and facing the hockey version of a mid-life crisis. My entire identity has been defined by this sport since I was three years old and got my first pair of skates. It’s the only thing I know how to do. I can’t stop now.
For me, success has always been measured by stats, wins, and championships. I joined the West Palm Golden Blades four years ago when it was created as an expansion team in the Professional Hockey League. Team management recruited me to lead these guys to a championship. We’ve played better and matured our roster each year. Now it’sdo or die. The Blades need to bring the Cup home to Florida, and I’m expected to make it happen. Failure is not an option.
With no answers about my future forthcoming from my scrutiny of the stained ceiling tiles and the glare from the bright lights of the exam room, I slowly get up just as the door opens.
“Jax, management meeting in fifteen minutes.”
Shit. I’m still in my dirty practice pants, my entire body is sweaty, and I smell worse than a locker room full of players. I move as quickly as my sore muscles will allow, heading straight to the showers. As the team Captain, I’m expected to make an appearance at all of the arena management meetings, whether they involve hockey or not. Apparently, the PR team thinks it’s good for business. If nothing else, I’ll get the updates on the latest concerts and shows coming to town.
I enter the room with seconds to spare, surprised to see a full house today. All of arena management, as well as most of the Blades management structure is in attendance. Today’s meeting is being led by the old man himself, Ace Huffman, chairman of the Huffman Group and owner of the Huffman arena, one of the largest sports and entertainment complexes in South Florida, second only to Miami-Dade’s stadium.
I take a seat along the wall next to Coach Bradley. The Blades co-owners, Trevor Logan, a former player who transitioned into a successful businessman, and Stone Anginelli, self-made billionaire and real estate developer, give me a nod from their positions at the conference table. Stone rarely attends management meetings, electing to be more of a silent partner, so I’m even more curious as to the agenda for today.
As Ace begins speaking, I notice a woman seated to his left. I haven’t seen her around the building before. Tiny. Shiny light-blonde hair, practically white. Skin like porcelain. She apparently doesn’t spend much time in the South Florida sun. Kinda reminds me of that Disney Princess with the blue hair, Elsa.
Ace opens the meeting and promptly introduces the visitor.
“I’d like to welcome Elise Kinney, a renowned botanical ice sculptor. We’ve hired her to create displays throughout the arena to enhance the aesthetic of our space and attract more attendees as we gear up for our playoff push. Huffman arena is going to have our very own winter wonderland right here in South Florida.”
Hopefully my face doesn’t give away my thoughts as I groan inwardly.What the hell is a botanical ice sculptor? We don’t need any fancy ice displays; we just need to play great hockey and win games. Simple. No gimmicks necessary.I wonder what Trevor and Stone think. As soon as I complete that thought, I get an answer. At least as far as Stone is concerned.
“And many thanks to Stone Anginelli and his wife Desirae for bringing the ice art of Ms. Kinney to our attention.”
As Ace drones on about events, publicity, and third quarter earnings, Ms. Ice Princess barely looks up from her notebook. Is she seriously doodling in the middle of a business meeting? When the meeting comes to a close, I follow theBlades contingent to the front of the room for the obligatory introductions.
Stone turns to me. “Elise, I’d like you to meet our team Captain, Jax Morgan.”
I extend a hand, and she barely looks at me, grasping my hand with a light touch, offering a cool “hello” before moving on to the next person.
For some reason, her complete disinterest both irritates and intrigues me. Not the reaction I’m used to at all. Guys are usually star-struck fans, and the women—let’s just say the puck bunnies are always falling at my feet. But not her. Ice Princess for damn sure.
Well, Princess, they don’t call me Frost for nothing. I can be just as frigid as you.
Game on.
CHAPTER 2
Elise - Retreat
As I survey the concrete corridors of Huffman arena, envisioning how to transform the sterile space into an appealing winter display with my signature living ice sculptures, the words of my best friend and business advisor Shay Stevens echo in my head like an annoying car alarm that I can’t seem to figure out how to turn off.
“Seriously, Elise? A hockey stadium? You’ve got so many opportunities at the moment; you don’t need this job. Rumor has it the Golden Blades are the bad boys of hockey, notorious for breaking hearts all over. They make baseball players look like amateurs in the sport of womanizing. Need I remind you that professional athletes are not a distraction you can afford? If you want to date someone, find a like-minded artist who’s warm, sensitive, and understands your career goals. And if you’re just looking to get laid, find a friend with benefits.”
I know she only wants the best for me, but it bristles all the same. “Need I remindyouthat I’m not looking for distractionsofanykind right now? I am 100% focused on my career. I’m grateful for the Anginellis’ attention to my work and providing me this particular opportunity. I’m not about to screw it up over some hockey player. The exposure from this project is just what I need to have a fighting chance at winning the Ottawa Fellowship.”
“I get that, but I also knowyou.I’m the one who had to stand by and help pick up the pieces of your heart after the disaster with Devin.”
