Hot on the Ice

By Anna Sugden

Lily Eddison is on the way to making it—her personalized, gourmet chocolates are in high demand. She has it all going on...until her landlord pulls the rug out from under her. Now she needs investors but the last person she expects or wants to save the day is the oh-so-hot, but arrogant, pro-hockey player Dante “Fireman” Taylor.

Hockey is Dante’s life and as the Docker’s star defensemen, he has no time for love. An opportunity to invest in Lily’s dream is just business, even though he can’t stop thinking about the gorgeous chocolatier. Despite his reluctance to be in a relationship, Dante and Lily move from partners to friends to lovers and he’s all in… Until an obsessive fan’s revenge tanks their romance and it’s dead on the ice.

Great hockey players know they have to take more shots on goal to score a hat trick and Dante gives it his all to prove to Lily that off the ice, she’s the only one for him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Feb 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9781649371317

Anna Sugden

Award-winning author, Anna Sugden, loves reading and writing happy endings as much as hockey, football, great food & wine, penguins, craft projects, collecting memorabilia and fabulous shoes! A former marketing executive and primary school teacher, Anna lives in Cambridge, England, with her husband and two bossy black cats. Learn more about Anna, her heartwarming contemporary romances and her shoes at www.annasugden.com.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Discover more Amara titles…

Loud Mouth

Rachel, Out of Office

The Burbs and the Bees

A Royal Disaster

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2021 by Anahita Sugden. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

10940 S Parker Rd

Suite 327

Parker, CO 80134

[e-mail]

Amara is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Erin Molta

Cover design by LJ Anderson/Mayhem Cover Creations

Cover photography by HayDmitriy and ozaiachinn/Deposit Photos

ISBN 978-1-64937-131-7

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition February 2021

Dear Reader,

Thank you for supporting a small publisher! Entangled prides itself on bringing you the highest quality romance you’ve come to expect, and we couldn’t do it without your continued support. We love romance, and we hope this book leaves you with a smile on your face and joy in your heart.

xoxo

Liz Pelletier, Publisher

For my wonderful agent, Jill Marsal, who helps make my writing dreams come true!

For Keith, love always.

Chapter One

Dante Fire-Man Taylor

Height: 6’2"

Position: D

Shoots: R

A hundred bucks says I sign more autographs than you bozos this afternoon.

In your dreams, Flood. Dante Fire-Man Taylor cuffed the back of his best friend’s head, while his fellow Newark Dockers teammates gave Flood—Noah Ferranti’s—boast the respect it deserved—hoots of derision. Besides, it’s the photos—especially with hot women—that really count.

Either way, I’ll wipe the floor with your ass. Noah ran a comb through his damp hair before grinning at his reflection in the mirror. They can’t resist this handsome face.

You mean they feel sorry for your butt-ugliness, Dante scoffed. Or they think they’re posing with one of the zombies from that popular TV show.

Noah flipped him off. At least I’m not the grandmas’ favorite.

Damn, I make this look good. Mattias Ingersson, their Swedish-born starting goaltender, pulled on his navy blue polo shirt, with the Dockers’ rope-and-anchor logo on the chest, which Marketing insisted they wear. I’ll beat the hell out of both of you.

As if, snorted Flood, before coarsely calling Mattie’s parentage into question.

A chorus of agreement, with equally colorful insults about the Swede’s preferred sexual activities, echoed around the suite.

Mattias, who was admittedly movie-star handsome, waved his fingers in a bring-it-on gesture. Is that the best you ladies can do? Jeez, I hope you’re more creative with our opponents once we’re back on the ice next week, or we’ll get our butts handed to us.

The players were gathered in one of the luxury suites, getting ready for the Fan Fest that would begin shortly on the plaza in front of the Dockers arena. In preparation for the new hockey season—training camp would start tomorrow, with the first preseason game Friday night—management were going all out to boost ticket sales by celebrating the team’s first appearance in the postseason last year. Though the Dockers had been swept in the first round, at least they’d finally got the playoff monkey off their back. The only way was up.

Man, it was good to be here.

Dante hid a smile, as he leaned against the doorframe, watching several players exchanging good-natured punches with Mattie. Although he’d never admit it to these clowns, Dante had missed being with the team over the summer. Most of the guys had gone home to see family or to rest and recharge their batteries at their off-season places right after locker clean-out day and had returned to New Jersey only in the past couple of weeks.

He and Noah, having no family—at least, none they wanted to see—had hung out together. Ten days of R and R on a Caribbean island, letting the minor injuries heal that they’d picked up during the grueling last month of the season, had been followed by a program of off-season workouts, in the gym and on the ice, to get them both where they needed to be for tomorrow’s physical tests. Despite the insults flying around, he knew Flood was as ready as he was to get back to the job they loved.

Dante had a good feeling about the upcoming season. The Dockers had the talent, the coaching, and the burning determination—fueled by those gut-wrenching first round losses—to go deep in the postseason. Maybe, if the hockey gods were generous, to win it all.

Dante wanted to lift Lord Stanley’s Cup so badly he could taste it. He definitely didn’t want to be one of those sad cases; a first-round draft pick who’d retire never having won a damn thing. Not that he was close to hanging up his skates. Thirty was still a year away and, barring serious injury, he figured he could play another ten years.

This year felt different. He sensed it was his best chance since making it to the show to achieve his dream. Everything was coming together perfectly, like that proverbial storm. But then, he’d worked freaking hard to make that happen. Training, diet, even taking up yoga, to be in the best shape—physically and mentally.

Okay, so he’d had to make some tough choices, some big sacrifices along the way. No one got to have it all. There was a steep price attached to success at the highest level. Dante rubbed his chest to ease the sharp jab of pain and pushed aside the memories. A price he had been…still was…willing to pay.

Hey, don’t mess with the merchandise, Mattias called out, putting his hands up to protect his face from an errant jab.

Aww, worried someone will smear your lipstick? Noah asked.

The Swede’s response about where Flood might shove said lipstick drew only more laughter. Luckily, another escalation in insults and roughhousing was forestalled by the gal from Marketing arriving to give them last minute instructions.

Despite looking like a bubbly blonde cheerleader, Jessie had spent enough years around professional athletes to be able to herd them as effectively as a drill sergeant with a bunch of green recruits.

You have two jobs today. As well as your autograph signings, you’ll be helping to promote Jersey businesses by working on one of their stalls for a couple of hours. I’ve sent your individual schedules and a Fan Fest layout to your phones, so you have no excuse for not being in the right place at the right time. Don’t make me come find you. She cast a strict eye over them, lingering deliberately on a couple of players, including Noah.

Yes, ma’am. He pretended to tug his forelock in deference.

Jessie smacked him upside the head with her clipboard before turning her steely gaze to Dante. I trust you’ll keep your partner-in-crime in line?

As Dante nodded, smiling, Noah grumbled, How come Fire-Man doesn’t get beaten up?

Because I can always rely on him to do the right thing.

Suck-up, Flood muttered, while coughing into his fist.

Come on, bro, Dante grabbed his friend by the shoulder and dragged him out of the room toward the big glass doors at the arena entrance. Before you get us into more trouble. I don’t want Jessie to cut my signing time short because you’ve pissed her off. My adoring public would be so disappointed.

I didn’t know it was seniors’ day.

"Ha-ha. Don’t expect Saturday Night Live to come calling." Dante shoved Noah through the turnstiles.

Heads up. Flood grinned. Dockerettes at two o’clock. We can get ahead of Ingersson in the photo stakes.

Do promotional shots count? Dante asked, as they were commandeered by the team’s all-female ice crew in their navy blue Dockers crop tops and skater skirts.

No one specified the women had to be fans. Noah shrugged. Whatever works to beat the pretty boy Swede.

Dante wasn’t about to argue. It was hard to compete with a guy who’d appeared on the cover of magazines like Maxim and GQ, not to mention appeared naked, but for a well-positioned thigh, in Sports Illustrated’s famous Body Issue. Besides, as the Dockerettes were the hottest girls—on or off the ice—in the tri-state area, it was no hardship.

Once they were finished, he and Noah strolled out through the open double doors onto the Plaza and Fan Fest central. The concourse in front of the arena looked like a country fair, with stalls and tents filling every inch of space on the grass areas. The scent of cooking food, from the barbecue stand near the fountain, filled the air. Rock music blaring from the arena speakers competed with excited voices as people in black, blue, or white team jerseys rushed around, trying to experience everything on offer. The unseasonably warm day seemed to have put everyone in an extra-festive mood.

To their left, a couple of rows of trestle tables had been set up in a V shape for the autograph sessions. Eager fans gathered already, awaiting the chance to meet their favorite player. Beyond the tables, a Hockey Hall of Fame display of game-worn sweaters and equipment from playoffs through the years also drew a large crowd.

To their right, beneath a huge Dockers banner, the famous silver chalice gleamed in the sunshine, accompanied by the ever-present, white-gloved Cup Handler. A long line snaked back and forth as men, women, and children waited to have their photograph taken with the ultimate hockey trophy. The two friends stopped and stared.

This is as close as I’ve ever been to the Cup. Dante didn’t bother to hide the reverence, or the yearning, in his voice.

Me too. From Flood’s tone, he was also imagining what it would feel like to skate the length of the ice, with the Stanley Cup hoisted above his head.

And it’s as close as either of you are going to get on my watch. Jessie appeared beside them. I know all about the superstition—you don’t touch it until you win it—so I don’t want you tempting fate.

No worries. Noah slung his arm around her shoulder. We won’t be risking it. Anyway, waiting in that line would make us late for our commitments, and we wouldn’t want to let you down.

Jessie rolled her eyes as she ducked out from under his arm. She tapped her watch pointedly, with a pale pink fingernail. Speaking of which, don’t you have somewhere you need to be?

Jeez. On my way, Flood grumbled. Just have to check where stall four is.

It’s over the other side, near where they’re auctioning memorabilia for charity. She smiled sweetly, indicating the direction with her clipboard. So scoot.

Yeah, yeah. I’ll catch up with you later, Fire-Man. With a bigger selfie total, Noah tossed over his shoulder as he sauntered away.

They say you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, Dante said lightly, when he saw Jessie watching his friend disappear into the crowd.

Sweetie, he’d run away as fast as he could if I was the slightest bit nice to him. This way keeps him on his toes, because he never knows what to expect from me. I’m definitely not wallpaper, like most women are to him.

Dante laughed. That’s the last thing you are.

Why thank you, kind sir. She bobbed a quick curtsy. This is why you’re one of my favorite players. You’re such a good guy. She led him in the opposite direction from Noah. It’s also why I’ve put you with one of my favorite people. You’ll have a blast with her.

That’s…Sweet Temptations. Dante squinted down at the diagram on his phone. Stall twenty-eight.

Down that path, across from the tent selling team gear.

Great. Looking forward to it. Dante scanned the stalls she’d indicated and saw a sign inviting fans to

Get your name iced on the Cup

. He couldn’t see who was behind the stall, but the crowd in front showed its popularity with the fans.

Isn’t that a cute idea? Jessie nodded at a couple of kids holding cellophane-wrapped, Stanley-Cup-shaped chocolate slabs with white icing. Lily’s so clever.

Lily.

Dante’s heart squeezed, like it did the second before the referee dropped the puck for the opening face-off.

Don’t be silly. It can’t be her.

There were probably hundreds of women with that name in northern New Jersey alone. And she’d made it crystal clear she wasn’t sticking around, after what he’d done. He’d assumed she’d returned home long ago, to that small town in rural Minnesota.

Please be her.

Please don’t be her.

Jessie continued, She has a selection of hockey-themed chocolates, all of which can be personalized. And they don’t just look great. They’re totally to die for.

He nodded, though he wasn’t really listening.

Six years. Their paths hadn’t crossed since that awful night. He’d been an idiot. Major understatement. Dante realized long ago that he’d handled their breakup badly. Arrogantly. Naïvely. He’d panicked and overreacted. Instead of ending things calmly, civilly, he’d blown them to hell and back with a bastard move.

There she is. Jessie pointed and waved as a group of people shifted to one side, clutching their purchases, giving Dante a clear view of the stall.

The sight of Lily made his palms sweat. Although she stood behind a table, and most of her yellow, sleeveless dress was covered by her white Sweet Temptations’ apron, Lily was like a glorious, summery beacon in the sea of navy and black. Her long dark hair was swept back into a fancy braid. Sparkling chocolate bars, dangling on gold chains from her ears, danced as she laughed at something her customer said.

Come on, Jessie said, moving quickly through the crowds to the front of the stall. I’ll introduce you.

As Dante followed, he noticed the customer held onto Lily’s hand a fraction too long as he took his personalized Cup from her.

Dante gritted his teeth and hurried forward, taking the man’s place.

Pleasure rushed through him as Lily looked up, her smile brightening. Hope flared that she’d forgiven him—no way she’d have forgotten—and that they could start over.

Then recognition widened her brown eyes, and her smile faded. What do you want?

His stomach dived at her cool tone. That fragile hope shattered. Clearly, she hadn’t forgotten or forgiven. Fresh start? Not a chance.

He scrambled for something to say, Uh… Hi, Lily. Yeah, that was real smooth.

Good, you two already know each other. Jessie shooed him around the back of the table. For the next hour, you have the exclusive services of one of my best guys, girlfriend.

Oh. Lily’s gaze shot to his face as he moved to stand beside her in the close confines of the stall. The horror in her dark eyes was at odds with her cheery expression. I really appreciate you thinking of me, Jess, but I don’t need any help, she said brightly.

Don’t worry. Jessie frowned, clearly picking up on Lily’s unease. Fire-Man isn’t a meathead jock. He doesn’t have an overblown ego or octopus hands. I wouldn’t do that to you. Dante’s solid. One of the good guys.

Lily’s already brittle smile froze. Her body stiffened.

Dante braced himself for her counterargument.

But before Lily could speak, Jessie added quickly, I wouldn’t put you with anyone I didn’t believe in one hundred percent. Trust me, you can count on Dante.

He’d rather block a dozen slap shots at close range than the fiery censure in Lily’s gaze.

"I’m sure you can. Lily softened her clipped tone. Honestly, I’m coping just fine. I’m sure someone else needs Dante’s help more than I do."

No way, girlfriend. Jessie waved off the suggestion. Even if he only stands there looking pretty, they’ll be lining up ten deep. Your chocolate and a hunky hockey player—match made in heaven. Best promo ever. You can thank me for the mega-boost in sales, later. She studied that blasted clipboard, then fluttered her fingers and shot off toward one of the other stalls.

Thanks for nothing, Lily muttered, then busied herself unpacking more Cup-shaped chocolate slabs from a plastic, insulated carry-box.

He should do her a solid and walk away, taking the consequences of Jessie’s anger on the chin. On the other hand, it felt like he’d been gifted an opportunity to try to make things right. He couldn’t waste it. What would you like me to do?

Her blazing look was full of painful, probably anatomically impossible, suggestions. Stay out of my way.

You’re stuck with me, so you might as well put me to work.

Don’t do me any favors. She slapped a pack of cellophane wrappers on the table. The last one was more than enough.

She had every right to throw his crappy apology back at him. It was a shitty thing to do. I know that now.

Ya think? Ice dripped from her words.

He shifted uncomfortably. I was a total jackass, but I really was trying to protect you.

She arched an eyebrow. Who from?

Me. He patted the embroidered Dockers logo on his chest. This.

Seriously? She smacked a roll of gold Sweet Temptations’ stickers on top of the cellophane wrappers. How did cheating on me with another woman achieve that?

He pinched the bridge of his nose as guilt, along with a familiar desperation, twisted his gut. I did what I thought I had to…to save you from being hurt even more down the line.

Her lip curled. You couldn’t have simply said ‘I’m breaking up with you?’ I had to find out by seeing photos of the two of you all over social media?

He threw out his hands, palms up. I kept telling you we had no future. I couldn’t have a serious girlfriend, let alone a wife. My career had to come first.

I understood that, she said quietly.

Maybe, but you can’t deny you were expecting our relationship to become more committed, once you turned twenty-one. Even now, the thought of those ties chafed.

Pardon me for thinking that finally sleeping together, as we’d done the night before, would mean we were exclusive. That didn’t mean I was picking out china patterns.

Maybe not then, but you saw it in the cards down the road. I didn’t. Couldn’t.

Hockey and marriage don’t mix. His father’s bitter voice echoed in Dante’s head.

Yeah, I got the message, loud and clear.

For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry.

Lily was silent for several seconds. Then she hitched a shoulder in a half shrug. That’s in the past. We’ve both moved on.

If it’s any consolation, it wasn’t you…

Please. She held up her hand. Don’t use that tired old cliché.

I was going to say that I didn’t want a relationship with anyone.

Whatever. Lily pulled out a foil tray of chocolate pucks and hockey sticks from a cooler and began replenishing her stock on the stall. Actually, I should probably thank you. If you hadn’t done what you did, I wouldn’t have my business.

Here, let me do that. Dante reached over, but she whipped the tray out of reach.

Gloves—behind you—before you touch anything.

He held up the too-small, pale blue rubber gloves. I don’t think these will fit.

Use those serving tongs instead. Think you can manage?

I’m pretty good with my hands.

At her narrowed gaze, he realized his response to her challenge hadn’t come out right. He added quickly, You know, at stick handling.

He made some moves with an imaginary stick to hammer home the point. Which didn’t appear to impress Lily much. He grabbed the tongs and held them up confidently. I…uh…should be able to cope.

Just don’t shoot chocolates at my customers. That’s not real good for sales.

No problem. He took the tray from her and began refilling the empty spots on the stall. I’m here to help.

Right. That one word rang with a wealth of meaning.

Lily turned to top up the flavored and filled milk and dark chocolates in the plastic display case, her movements jerky. Knock yourself out.

She hadn’t tossed him out on his ear, so that was something. Perhaps if he kept the conversation neutral, about her business, he’d make it through the next hour.

He leaned across, took a broken piece of chocolate from the samples bowl, and popped it in his mouth. Man, this is so good. Knocks the hell out of those well-known brands.

Thank you. We use only the best quality ingredients, which makes a difference.

Despite her stiff body language and prissy delivery, he sensed a slight softening. Keen to press the advantage, no matter how small, he said, I remember now that you had a knack for making chocolate. It’s awesome that you were able to turn your hobby into what must be a successful business, since you’re a prime vendor at today’s event. Your Aunt June must be so proud. She was always getting you to produce chocolate for her parties and raving about you to her friends.

She was. She gave me and Amy, my business partner, the seed money to get Sweet Temptations started. Her brown eyes clouded. Aunt June passed away this summer.

Crap. Way to put his big foot in it.

That’s tough. He’d genuinely liked the flamboyant, forthright, if slightly intimidating, woman. She was larger than life and totally cool. I loved that she marched to the beat of her own drum and damn what anybody else thought.

She was special. Lily smiled sadly, as she slid the empty trays under the counter. Not everyone appreciated her style, I know, but I thought she was wonderful. I only wish I’d had more time with her.

Had she been ill? he asked gently, aching to hold her close and soothe her pain. Like that would go down well. Not.

No. She cleared her throat. A heart attack. One moment she was showing everyone how to rock and roll ‘properly,’ and the next, she was gone.

At least she didn’t suffer. Trying to ease her sadness, he added, I can’t imagine she’d have been a good patient.

Lily gave a short laugh. God no. She’d have been terrible. Bossing doctors around, telling them how things should be done, she’d have driven everyone—me included—nuts.

I can imagine. He smiled wryly. She never held back in her critiques of my play.

She was a huge Dockers fan, and she thought you had a lot of talent.

They fell into silence, both lost in their own thoughts of June Tuxford. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Almost as if a fragile bond had begun to form between them.

With the stall fully stocked, they put the remaining chocolates back in the cooler.

Then, Lily pointed to a Cup-shaped, milk chocolate slab. While we’re waiting, would you like me to ice your name on the Cup?

A peace offering. And she’d remembered what kind of chocolate he liked. Score!

At least you didn’t say this was my only chance to get my name on it. Trying to sound nonchalant, when he wanted to fist-pump the air, he said, That would be great.

Lily picked up a squeeze bottle and iced

Dante

, in white, onto the bowl of the chocolate trophy. Then, she picked it up carefully and gave it to him.

Their fingers brushed, sending a zing of awareness up his arm. He saw, rather than heard, the hitch in her breathing that said she’d felt it, too. His pulse tripped as her tongue moistened her lower lip. He willed her to meet his gaze, but she didn’t.

Instead, carefully avoiding touching him, she handed him a cellophane bag and gold sticker. Give the writing a few minutes to harden and then slip it inside for protection. She put the small stack of wrappers in front of him. If you really want to help, you can hand these out to customers, with the same instructions.

Thanks. I…

Before he could get out another word, she looked up and smiled broadly. Hello. What’s your name, gorgeous?

It was ridiculous to be jealous of a drooling, chubby toddler called Byron. Especially when he was wearing a mini Dockers shirt with Dante’s name and number on the back.

Dante made a fuss of the kid and his parents while Lily personalized their chocolates. By the time he’d finished signing autographs and posing for pictures, the tension between him and Lily had eased enough that they shared a knowing smile as the trio walked away.

Cute child, but he’s going to suffer terribly when he’s older. Lily rolled her eyes. Byron—really?

The playground name-calling will be brutal. On the other hand, the kid will grow up tough. Especially if he turns out to be as big as his dad.

The guy made you look small. No offense. Her eyes twinkled with humor.

None taken. Dude was almost seven feet tall and about as wide. Blew my mind that his wife was so petite. Sure hope the kid doesn’t take after her.

Given how big he is now, I don’t think Byron has to worry.

That set the tone for the next hour, which was incredibly busy, especially with women, as Jessie had predicted. He and Lily worked well side by side; while she iced names on chocolate Cups, sticks, or pucks, Dante entertained the fans—signing jerseys, photos, programs, and numerous female body parts—and passed out wrappers and stickers.

Yet, through it all, he was hyperaware of Lily. Of her scent, light and fresh, like a summer breeze, floating above the rich aroma of chocolate. Of the countless times their fingers touched or their bodies brushed against each other in the close confines of the stall, sending a delicious fizz skating across his skin. His body reacted the same way every damn time, making him glad that the hardness tightening his jeans was covered by his Dockers sweater. Not that he was complaining. Especially when her heightened color told him she wasn’t as immune to him as she might like to be.

All too soon, Noah was sauntering toward them.

He arched a questioning eyebrow at Dante. How come you got the fun job, while I had to shovel chili, cheese, or relish onto hot dogs for some cranky old guy who was a lifelong Rangers fan? He sniffed his jersey. I’d better not stink of onions.

You don’t. Lily smiled warmly.

Flood leaned over the table and hugged her. Hey beautiful. Good to see you again. It’s been a while.

I was hoping I’d bump into you. I put aside some of your favorites. She pulled a box of dark chocolates out from under the table.

So it wasn’t only his preference she’d remembered. Disappointment stabbed Dante’s midsection.

You’re the best. Noah clutched the candy to his chest, like a kid with a treasured toy. I’ll put in a standing order, now I know you’re doing this for real.

Thank you. I might even give you a friends and family discount.

Noah shook his head. Oh no. This is your business. Full price, I insist.

Dante barely resisted the urge to smack his friend. Flood can afford it, after that monster contract he signed last summer.

An elite, top-line forward who led the Dockers in scoring for the past three years—I think he earned a pay raise. Lily smiled wryly. If only making chocolates paid so well.

As she and Noah discussed her business, Dante couldn’t get her comment about his friend’s stats out of his mind. He’d known she was a lifelong hockey fan, but he’d figured after what had happened, the last thing she’d have done was follow the Dockers.

Had she kept tabs on me, too?

Unlikely.

I hate to break up the party. Flood didn’t sound the least bit sorry. But Fire-Man’s presence is required at the autograph table, where his ass will be handed to him.

You’re full of it. Dante walked around the front of the stall to join him. Catch you later, Lily? He hadn’t meant the casual goodbye to come out as a question. Still, his breath caught as he waited for her answer.

Maybe. I’m contracted to be here until five. Not exactly enthusiastic, but not no, either.

Dante didn’t push it. Okay. Well, if not, take care.

You, too. She smiled at someone behind him. Hey Gordie. I didn’t think you wanted to come today.

A sandy-haired man joined her behind the table, bussed her on the cheek, then laid a proprietorial hand on her shoulder. His pale eyes flicked to the two hockey players before dismissing them. I changed my mind. Thought I’d stop by and see how you were doing.

Dante said a quick goodbye, then strode off with Flood in his wake. He didn’t know why he cared, but he wasn’t sticking around to watch Lily canoodling with her…boyfriend, husband, or whatever the hell the thin, pasty-skinned guy was.

Man, what’s she doing with that stiff? Noah said, once they were out of earshot. And what’s with the freaking bow tie?

Wearing a camel-colored sports coat, a matching waistcoat and crisply pressed, pleated trousers, Gordie was as different from Dante as humanly possible.

That was probably the point.

Dante shrugged. Maybe he’s a professor or an art critic or something.

You okay, bro? Concern edged Noah’s voice.

Yeah, fine.

That can’t have been an easy hour, given your past.

We got through it. No big deal. Dante couldn’t help one last look at Lily.

Their gazes clashed. She raised her chin defiantly before turning away.

Masking his disappointment, he forced an easy smile. Time to get to our seats, so the master can win your money. I’m already way ahead of you, thanks to my stint at the Sweet Temptations stall.

Don’t count your winnings yet. I got my share of ladies at the hot dog stand. Flood went along with the change of subject. Are those people really all for Ingersson?

Nope, they’re waiting for Lawman. Mattie’s line is over there. He pointed out another group, which wasn’t much smaller.

Crap. I’m not going to be outdone by a netminder, no matter how pretty. Catch you later. Have your money ready.

Dream on. Dante walked over to his table and sat behind his nameplate. He smiled and