Twisted Collide: The new sports romance in the Redville Saints series

The chill of the ice seeps through my gear, grounding me in the familiar feeling I’ve grown to love and hate in equal measures. Wolfe and Aiden flank me, their presence a reassuring force amid the sound of skates slicing and sticks clashing.

As the puck slides toward us, instinct takes over. I dig my blades into the ice, pivoting with controlled aggression. Wolfe surges ahead, deftly flicking the puck to Aiden, who swiftly maneuvers around Hudson, who’s our opponent for this drill.

I circle back, eyes fixed on Aiden as he weaves through the defense. Time slows as I anticipate his move, a split-second decision that could tilt the odds in our favor. With a flick of his wrist, Aiden sends the puck soaring toward me.

I intercept the puck in one fluid motion, skating hard toward the goal. Wolfe streaks alongside me, ready for any rebound.

Aiden’s shout cuts through the rink, guiding me with pinpoint precision. I feint left, then right, drawing the goalie off balance.

I release the puck and watch it sail past the goalie’s outstretched glove.

“Hit the showers,” Coach yells, signaling the scrimmage is over with that point and so is practice.

Thank fuck.

My legs are burning. Coach seemed different today.

Like he was exorcising a demon.

What’s up with him? Is this about dinner last night?

It makes me wonder if I’m missing a big part of the puzzle on his and Josephine’s relationship. I know there’s a story there, and I know I’ve said multiple times that it’s not my business.

But for some reason, even though I tell myself that, I find that what she does is my business. It doesn’t quite make sense, and I don’t like the feeling, but I just have this sense that everything she does is important.

It makes no fucking sense.

One by one, each team member slowly files out of the rink, leaving it eerily quiet and empty.

I’m not ready to go yet, so I don’t. Instead, I pull my arm back and slap another shot.

I need to get my head back into hockey, and sometimes, when I’m alone on the ice, it’s the best time.

Coach knows I like to stick around on the ice and let the guys get a head start before I head back to the chaos of the locker room, so he doesn’t even question it anymore. In the past, Aiden was the last off the ice, but recently, that’s changed. Now he rushes off.

Today, even Coach hurried off the ice, seeming irritated.

At one point, he said something about not getting lazy since we won the Cup this year.

After seeing how much Hudson has been partying and how MIA Aiden has been, I think he’s probably on to something.

I’m certainly not giving it my all.

If anything, I’m barely functioning these days.

I need the little hellfire to leave. I just haven’t figured out a way to tell Coach she has to go without getting her in trouble.

I’m torn.

I need her gone, but I don’t want this to look bad for her.

She didn’t do anything wrong, but she’s too damn tempting, and the more time I spend with her, the harder it is to remember why I can’t just grab her in my arms and kiss the ever-living fuck out of her.

I head toward the edge of the rink. My teammates are long gone, leaving the showers open. I had been in my own little world, skating around and thinking about Josie, and I completely lost track of time.

I see movement to my left and skate around to see who’s here, and when they come into view, my jaw tightens.

Can’t this girl just stop with the bullshit? Is she trying to push me overboard?

Yes . . . yes, she is. She’s tempting me on purpose.

“What are you doing?”

The question comes out harsh, and I immediately regret it when I get close enough to see her face. There’s no mischief there. None of the typical bullshit she’s been pulling to seduce me.

No. She looks almost . . . sad.

“I’ve never been on the ice before. I was just waiting until everyone was gone to get closer.”

My mouth drops open. “What do you mean you’ve never been on a hockey rink?”

“I’ve never been on the ice.” She lifts her hands and gestures around. “Any ice.”

“How is that possible? Your father is one of the best NHL coaches in the world. Surely, you grew up on the ice.”

She stiffens, not answering me, but fuck is my mind going crazy.

“Didn’t your father—” I start, and she lets out a dry laugh.

“No.” She shakes her head. “That would imply I knew my father before I came to work here.”

I widen my eyes, and the ground beneath me feels like it’s quaking. Did she just say what I think she did? Little puzzle pieces start to fit together and make a pattern.

“You didn’t know your dad?”

“Nope.”

She tries to make it sound like that doesn’t bother her, but I know better. I can see the sadness in her eyes. I know that look all too well. I’ve seen it too many times on Molly not to recognize it for what it is.

“So, how did you end up here?”

“Isn’t that the question we all want to know?” Her voice sounds stranded, and I take her in. Really take her in.

Her hands are by her side, digging into her leggings, and her features seem strained and tight.

There’s no way she’s going to tell me anything right now, and the truth is, I’m not even sure she knows.

She looks heartbroken, and usually, from past experience, it means you have too many questions and not enough answers.

“Come on.” I extend my hand.

Her brow rises. “What?”

I wiggle my fingers. “Give me your hand.”

Her eyes narrow in on first my hand and then my face. “Why?”

I roll my eyes with a sigh. “Do you ever stop asking questions, Hellfire?”

“Nope. And I don’t think you would like me as much if I did.”

“You think I like you?” I tilt my head down and smirk.

“You must, or you would have told me to fuck off.”

I throw my head back and laugh, shaking my head. “The night is still young.”

“That’s true,” she says.

“I won’t be getting any younger if you make me wait,” I grind out, trying to put as much irritation into my words as possible, but it doesn’t land.

“Wait for what?”

I lower my arm and lift it once more for effect. “Again . . . give me your hand.”

She grins, clearly enjoying the moment between us. Finally, after a few more seconds, she reaches out, and I take both her hands in mine.

“You don’t have skates, but you don’t need them today.”

“Today?”

I pull her forward out onto the ice. She starts to slip, but I wrap my hand higher up her arm and grip her around the waist with my other hand.

“Next time, I’ll come prepared and give you your first lesson, but for now, I’ll do it this way.”

I start to slowly push her backward and watch as her eyes widen. Is that fear I see?

She quickly clamps her lips together and straightens a little, but it throws off her balance, and she starts to slip. The silence of the rink reminds me that we are alone together, so I pull her closer, my eyes locking with hers.

Her breath hitches, and I wonder what she sees at this moment. What is she thinking?

She’s fucking gorgeous. Quiet and timid on the ice. It’s the first time I’ve seen her this vulnerable, and something about it is so damn endearing.

The need to protect is so strong, and I can’t understand it.

I let her go for a second, reaching my hand out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from her face. Beneath my other hand, I feel her shiver, but I know it’s not from the cold.

I move closer, tempting fate.

She’s close enough now that our faces are almost touching.

“Hellfire, what are you doing to me?”

“I don’t know,” she whispers, her cold breath caressing my lips.

Just as we are about to kiss, a loud sound thunders through the space.

Probably a blessing. I skate us back to the edge of the ice, dropping her waist and helping her out.

“Oh, good, I was looking for you.” Laurie stands just off the ice, looking right at me, not seeming to be fazed by the current situation.

“Well, you got me,” I say, lifting both hands. “I was just showing Josephine the ice because she’s never been on it before. I caught her trying to head out there on her own.”

Laurie looks at Josie. “You’ll break your neck that way.”

“That’s what I told her.”

Laurie shakes her head. “Good thing you were here, Dane. Your father would kill me if something happened to you on my watch.”

Josephine stiffens at the mention of her father, but I don’t have long to think about it because Laurie points in the direction of the offices on the other side of the building. “I need you to choose a jersey and sign it.”

I look toward the locker room and then gesture to what I’m wearing. “What? Now?”

“Yeah. It’s being auctioned off at the Saints and Starling charity event next week. We need to get the item up on the website so people can start bidding.”

The Saints and Starling event is the biggest fundraiser in the area. The money raised goes to help with legal fees for people who don’t have the resources to get the representation they deserve.

Starling company is the local law firm that represents the Saints and has teamed up with the team to put the event on.

“There are a few different options,” she says.

“Why don’t we auction off more than one?” Josephine asks, and Laurie’s eyes widen as though she hadn’t thought about that.

Laurie quickly masks the fact that she was bested by the temp and places her hands on her hips as if she is annoyed. Laurie isn’t cut out for this job, but her father knows the owner, and that makes Laurie’s position pretty sound, even if the team could use some young blood.

“I have a meeting I need to get to. Can we please get this done?” Laurie says, checking her phone.

“I can do it,” Josephine says. Laurie purses her lips but looks back at her phone and sighs.

“Fine. The jerseys are in the locker room on the table. Just sign them,” Laurie directs to me, turning her attention to Josie. “When he’s done, take photos of each of them and email me a high-res JPEG. I’ll add them to the auction site tonight.”

Josephine nods, turning to me and giving me a look that basically says is this woman for real?

“I’ll see you later.” Laurie rushes off.

When she’s out of sight, I turn back to Josephine. “Do you think you can handle those directives?”

I’m surprised she hasn’t rolled her—strike that; she just did.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“Yep.” She pops the p. “You’re being an ass.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Hmm,” she says, tapping her chin. “I think onions are only good in salsa.”

“What?”

“Onions don’t belong in salad, on burgers, and absolutely, under no circumstances, should they ever be eaten like an apple.”

“I can’t be around you,” I tease, shaking my head and doing my best to look serious.

“Too bad. You heard the woman. We have work to do for charity,” she singsongs, and the sound is somehow beautiful and grating at the same time.

Because she’s wearing me down.

“If this weren’t for something important, I’d say no.” I work to remove my skates, not wanting to wear the bulky footwear all the way to the locker room. “But this is for charity, so I’ll play nice.”

“Laurie explained what the money went to, and I think it’s incredible. So many families get the help they need despite their financial situation.”

“It does change things. Everyone deserves the same resources.”

“Yeah.” It’s all she says, and I wonder if she knows about my situation at all.

I don’t want to know. Instead, I change the subject and spit out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Did you play any sports?”

She scrunches her nose. “No. I thought that would be obvious from our first talk.”

“So, what were you interested in?”

She purses her lips. “We have work to do.” And with that, she walks off.

I let out a long-drawn-out sigh. This girl is a pain in the ass. Maybe I should change her nickname to that.

Something tells me that won’t go over well.

I follow her as we head to the locker room. Once we’re inside, I start the long process of removing my uniform.

Josephine decides to take a seat on the bench.

She’s bored, obviously, but she should count herself lucky that I’m even allowing her to stay in here. It makes it even more difficult to keep my hands to myself.

We’re in an empty locker room, completely alone. Nobody would know if I caved.

Not happening, Dane. Get your head out of your ass.

I might not touch, but that doesn’t mean I can’t play her own games.

Once I’m naked from the top up, I turn to face her.

The moment she notices me, I need to refrain from grinning.

I can’t give this girl an inch. If she thinks there is a chance I’m interested, she will pounce, which is not something that can happen, but it doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the way she looks at me.

She stares as though she’s parched, and I’m the glass of water she needs to survive.

It’s been a long time since a woman has gotten me interested, and it’s a fucking crime that it has to be her.

Because I am interested.

If I could, I would take her right here and now.

The way her pouty lips part. There is nothing more I’d like to do than separate those lips and feed her my cock inch by inch.

Shit.

And now my dick is hard at that thought.

Think of something gross.

Something to turn me off.

I close my eyes for a beat, taking a long, deep breath. My mind goes blank. Nothing can penetrate the image running through my brain of her on her knees in front of me, sucking my cock—

“Dane.”

I shake my head and meet her gaze.

“Yeah, Hellfire.” My voice sounds lower, huskier.

“Oh, now I’m hellfire again?”

“Well, you’re making me late to my appointment, so yeah, you’re a hellfire.”

“What appointment?”

“The one I’m about to make,” I say, admitting that there is currently no appointment.

“For?” she drawls out, circling her hand as if to tell me to get on with it.

“I need a massage.”

She swallows. “What?”

“I need to book a massage. My shoulder has a knot.”

She takes a step closer, and I see that her nose is scrunched, and her cheeks are pinched in.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Just concerned about you. Can you put the jersey on so I can take pictures of you wearing them and then I’ll grab the signed pictures after?”

“While I appreciate your concern, I just want to sign these jerseys and get on with my day. But if I must wear it for a photo op, let’s get it over with.”

She tosses the first one to me, and I lift my arm to slide into the jersey. Just as the shirt is being dropped over my head, I let out a groan of pain.

I stop moving, and so does Josephine.

“Are you okay?”

“Hence the needed massage. I pulled a muscle.”

Josephine rushes to me until we are close enough that I can smell the lavender in her soap.

Before I know what’s happening, her hand lifts up, and her warm fingertips are on my skin.

“What are you doing?” I growl. My brain short-circuits from her touch.

“Trying to help you. I thought—”

“That’s the problem, you didn’t think . . .” I’m about to say more, but I wince in pain this time.

“That’s it, let me see.” Placing her hands on my shoulders, she sits beside me.

Even though I know I should object, I don’t. Her touch feels too good as she massages the tight muscles.

The locker room is quiet except for the puffs of air I’m expelling.

The more she kneads, the more labored my breathing gets, but the knot is almost gone, and it seems she won’t stop until the knot no longer exists.

With each second that passes, I can’t help but wonder why I’m pushing her away so hard. Maybe it would be easier not to.

But then I remember her dad, the way he helped in those early years, and how much I needed him.

Being good might be more painful than the pulled muscle.