Risk on Ice Read online

  Boys of Winter #11

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Books by S.R. Grey

  Chapter One: Against My Better Judgment

  Chapter Two: A New Start

  Chapter Three: Fallout

  Chapter Four: Yes, He’s Hot, but He’s Clearly Trouble

  Chapter Five: New Living Arrangements

  Chapter Six: Surprise!

  Chapter Seven: Off-Limits

  Chapter Eight: Caught With my Pants Off

  Chapter Nine: I Am So F*cked

  Chapter Ten: Catching Some Rays and Some Feels

  Chapter Eleven: It’s Getting Hot Out Here

  Chapter Twelve: Are We Busted?

  Chapter Thirteen: Highs and Lows

  Chapter Fourteen: Truce

  Chapter Fifteen: Dinner

  Chapter Sixteen: Feeling Feisty

  Chapter Seventeen: Flirty as F*ck

  Chapter Eighteen: Taking A Chance

  Chapter Nineteen: All Through the Night

  Chapter Twenty: Brutal Honesty

  Chapter Twenty-One: Growing Closer

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Laid Bare

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Did I Really Just Text That?

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Here We Go

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Just Don’t Hurt Her

  Chapter Twenty-Six: A House of Cards

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: Something Is Up

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: Tying Up Loose Ends

  Chapter Twenty-Nine: A Decision Made

  Chapter Thirty: I Didn’t See That One Coming

  Chapter Thirty-One: Why Not?

  Chapter Thirty-Two: The Next Move

  Epilogue: Our Best Life

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Destiny on Ice

  Copyright

  Boys of Winter series

  Destiny on Ice

  Resistance on Ice

  Complications on Ice

  Caution on Ice

  Player on Ice

  Vows on Ice

  Illusion on Ice

  Forbidden on Ice

  Bet on Ice

  Dare on Ice

  Men of Fall series

  Forward Progress

  Fair Catch

  Eligible Receiver

  Down by Contact

  Hard Count

  Judge Me Not series

  I Stand Before You

  Never Doubt Me

  Just Let Me Love You

  The After of Us

  Inevitability duology

  Inevitable Detour

  Inevitable Circumstances

  Promises series

  Tomorrow’s Lies

  Today’s Promises

  A Harbour Falls Mystery trilogy

  Harbour Falls

  Willow Point

  Wickingham Way

  Laid Bare novella series

  Exposed: Laid Bare 1

  Unveiled: Laid Bare 2

  Spellbound: Laid Bare 3

  Sacrifice: Laid Bare 4

  Against My Better Judgment

  “Just one little selfie with us?” Viv whines as she flips her long, shimmery platinum hair over one shoulder. “Please, Alex, please. This may be the last one for a while.”

  Hmm, she’s got that right. I was just traded from the Florida Panthers hockey team to the Las Vegas Wolves. They need a good, solid defenseman who can score, and I am that.

  Anyway, I found out only a day ago. Training camp had just wrapped up when the news came through. I was in the locker room when my agent called, and my teammates, listening in when I switched over to speakerphone so they’d know what was going on, insisted afterward that we go out for one final night of partying.

  So here I am, in a private room in the back of an upscale bar in downtown Fort Lauderdale, seated at a table with two very busty, very blonde puck bunny twins who I may or may not have had flings with once upon a time.

  Hey, I plead the fifth.

  No sense in dwelling on the past, right?

  Right.

  At twenty-five, my wild days are behind me.

  Well, mostly.

  With that in mind and to keep my ass on the straight and narrow this fine night, I decide I should probably hit the road.

  Not only do I have an early flight to Las Vegas tomorrow, but the guys who were here with me earlier left a while ago.

  I would’ve taken off, too, and I was about to. But then I detoured to the restrooms to take a leak before leaving and I ran into the twins.

  They insisted I spend some time with them, especially since I’m leaving Florida for good.

  So back to the private party room we strode.

  And here we are.

  Sighing, I survey the large round table, strewn with empty beer bottles and an assortment of shot glasses.

  Man, what a fun time tonight was.

  I’m going to miss my teammates, but at least I know one guy on my new team—Sebastian Alderman. We played together with the Panthers till he was traded last season.

  We’ve kept in touch, and I already have plans to have dinner over at his house tomorrow night.

  That’ll be good.

  Catching up in person is always nice, and I’ll finally get to meet his girlfriend, Bettina. She just recently moved in with him.

  Man, I can’t believe Sebastian found love in just a few short months.

  Some guys have all the luck.

  Shaking my head, I take a quick sip from my glass of ginger ale. Yeah, that’s all I’ve been drinking tonight.

  I’m with the Wolves now, and I want to start out on the right foot with my new team. Word is they don’t take too kindly to bad behavior. Hell, they assigned a life coach to their star player, Brent Oliver, his first season.

  Talk about tough!

  With their hard stance on partying like a rock star forefront in my mind, I turn to Viv and state firmly, “No selfies. Not tonight.”

  Her twin sister, Vee, seated on the other side of me, huffs and murmurs something indecipherable. Still, I catch the disappointment in her tone.

  Twisting in my chair to face her, I say, “Come again?”

  Batting her sad blue eyes and puffing her plump lips out to a full-blown pout, she says, “I was just saying, Alexander Hartwell, that you’re no fun anymore.”

  “Sure I am,” I protest. “But, guys, come on.” I wave my hand at their phones on the table. “You two post everything on social media, multiple platforms even. I can’t risk my reputation like that. Not anymore.”

  “What does that even mean?” Viv snaps.

  She’s clearly offended, but I have an answer. “It’s simple, ladies. I can’t have pictures out there circulating of me seated at a table covered in empty beer bottles and shot glasses.” I nod to their voluptuous bodies, clad in matching low-cut bubblegum-pink halters that leave almost nothing to the imagination, not to mention the white micro minis they have on. Scoffing, I add, “Worse yet, a selfie of me posing in some risqué way with the two of you would not go over well with my new team.”

  “Our selfie won’t be risqué,” Vee retorts, scrunching her pert nose in distaste. “We’ll keep it clean.”

  I snort. “Ha! Like you have with all our other photos from the past?”

  I shudder at the thought of some of the images these two have captured.

  Reaching over, Viv smacks my jean-clad thigh. “Oh, stop,” she says. “Those pics were taken a long, long time ago. I’m sure they’ve been forgotten.”

  Vee, leaning in close to me, chimes in, “Yeah, and we took all those images down when you asked, dear Alex.”

  “Pfft, after the damage was done,” I mumble.

  As I rake my fingers through my messy, coppery brown hair and scoot my chair out a bit so they’ll stop crowding me, I ple
ad with my green eyes for the twins to just let this go.

  But damn, they are nothing if not persistent.

  Downcast eyes, sighs of disappointment, murmurs of how much I’ve changed—it finally all gets to me.

  “Ah, hell.” I throw my hands up in the air, and, against my better judgment, say, “If you promise not to post our selfie anywhere—like, just keep it for yourselves—then maybe one little pic of the three of us will be okay.”

  “It will be,” Vee insists, smiling triumphantly.

  There’s mischief in Viv’s big blue eyes as she adds, “And of course we’ll keep it private.”

  Oh, hell, I should back out and call this thing off.

  But I wait too long and it’s too late.

  The twins descend on me, crawling onto my lap, hugging me, kissing my cheeks, pulling up my black tech tee, and rubbing my abs.

  Shit, this is exactly what I was worried about.

  I’m just too damn nice.

  Or maybe I’m having fun too. It’s like one final “what the fuck.”

  Giving in completely, I roll with the situation.

  And somewhere along the line, a selfie of the three of us mugging for the camera is taken.

  A New Start

  A long time ago, my brother Sebastian told me if I ever needed a place to stay, his home, no matter where he’s living, would always be open.

  “I sure hope that offer applies to his new Las Vegas house,” I mutter to myself as I cruise down I-15 in Utah.

  Blowing out a breath, I lower the driver-side window of my alpine green Volvo SUV and breathe in the cool night desert air.

  I love September, with that hint of a change of season in the air. It reminds me that I’m changing too.

  “Yes, I am,” I declare as I tap the steering wheel. “I, Kelsi Alderman, am starting anew.”

  I’ve been driving for a while now, but I feel more refreshed than I have in a long, long time. I guess leaving your old life behind in Salt Lake City has a way of doing that to a person.

  It sure has for me.

  And another thing—this new version of me is in no rush. That was my old life, always running around, working too hard, staying busy, busy, busy.

  Hell with that.

  My new life is about slowing down and taking time to enjoy the little things.

  I’ve adopted this new philosophy on this trip even, having stopped several times already. Not just for bathroom breaks and grabbing food.

  No, I’ve made a point to pull over at several observation pull-outs along the way, simply to take in the pretty scenery.

  Even the views from the road have been breathtaking—towering red rocks, snow-capped mountains in the distance, blue skies. There’s just so much beauty in the state.

  The sunset also was magnificent.

  And the black-velvet sky above me now, flecked with millions of twinkling stars, holds its own certain kind of charm.

  I sigh deeply.

  Yeah, I am definitely going to keep enjoying these things.

  I’ve been on the other side, and that left me unhappy and bereft.

  I had a high-powered job as a corporate attorney back in Salt Lake City.

  I had a husband.

  I had a house.

  And then everything fell apart.

  I found out my shitty husband was cheating on me.

  So we got a divorce and sold our home.

  I was just about to move into an apartment when I decided I’d had enough. It was time for a new start.

  I took an extended leave of absence from my job, packed up my essential belongings in this SUV, put the rest of my things in storage, and hit the road.

  I’m hoping to sort my life out. But in order to achieve that I need to spend some time with family.

  And by that I mean my younger brother, Sebastian.

  We’ve always been close.

  That’s why I think he’ll be okay with me spending some time at his house to regroup. I recall him mentioning that he has a separate apartment above his multicar garage.

  That would be perfect.

  Seb and I are three years apart. I’m older and was always the one looking out for him when we were kids.

  Our only other sibling, a brother named Drew, is years older than us. He was a teen when Sebastian and I were still children.

  I guess that’s why Seb and I bonded from the start.

  Drew is great, but there’s just not that super-strong connection like there is with Seb.

  For example, when Sebastian first started playing hockey, at about the age of four, I was his first, and biggest, fan.

  Now that he’s a hotshot forward in the National Hockey League, I’m still his cheerleader.

  I feel bad, though, as I haven’t seen him play in such a long time.

  Come to think of it, I haven’t really seen him at all for ages.

  Yeah, it’s been too damn long.

  I mean, we talk and text all the time, sure. But that’s not the same.

  Like, he knows about my divorce, but he has no idea I’m doing this—starting over.

  He also has no clue that I’m on my way to his house.

  Boy, is he going to be surprised!

  As I close in on Nevada, readying to cross the state line, I decide now is as good a time as any to take a short break. There’s a rest stop up ahead, where I can freshen up and hopefully grab a bottled water from a vending machine.

  Once I stop and do exactly that, I hop back into my vehicle.

  But before I hit the road once more, I lower the visor and peer into the mirror.

  My big caramel-brown eyes stare back at me.

  I smile.

  I feel good and I look happier than I have in what feels like forever.

  Damn, I am happier.

  My eyes are bright and full of hope for my future, whatever it may hold.

  Lifting my water bottle, I take a sip and think about how I want to define that new future.

  Apart from just slowing down and enjoying everything, which is already established as a must, I’d like to have a family.

  I’m thirty-three now. I don’t have another decade or more to waste.

  My ex-husband didn’t want kids. And I was fine with that…until I wasn’t.

  Yet another nail in the coffin of our relationship.

  Sighing and flipping my chestnut-brown hair over one shoulder, I tap the visor back into place.

  “Someday you’ll meet the man for you,” I whisper, like maybe the fates will hear me and make it happen.

  But after a moment of thought, I add, “But he’s going to have to be mature and have his shit together.”

  Yeah, no doubt.

  Determined and brimming with hope, I start the SUV and head out of the rest stop, ready and excited to embark on this new life of mine.

  Fallout

  “Aw, hell. What the fuck is up now?” I murmur when I wake up on my first morning in Las Vegas to find my phone is blowing up.

  This is the last thing I need.

  Hell, I just flew in yesterday and had a really nice dinner last night with Sebastian and Bettina.

  So why are things going crazy now?

  Guess I’m about to find out.

  Raking my fingers through my auburn hair, I groan and reluctantly sit up in the king-size bed in the hotel room the team has put me up in.

  Bare from the waist up, I scratch my smooth chest and start scrolling through the texts…

  Dude, are you crazy? What were you thinking?

  Way to make a first impression, Hartwell.

  Did you learn nothing from your past?

  Those are just a few of the messages, all from my now-former Panthers teammates.

  There are many more just like those from other people as well.

  And, just a few minutes ago, Sebastian texted, Call me, man. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from the Wolves’ management today. We need to talk before then. I have an idea on how to get ahead of this and tamp this shit down quickl
y.

  “Wait, what shit? Get ahead of what?” I grumble. “Seriously, what the fuck is going on?”

  I do a little research, and after checking some of the latest hockey news, I discover pretty quickly what all the fuss is about.

  It’s not good.

  “Damn it! Viv and Vee sold me out!” I bellow.

  I’m about to toss my phone across the room, but then I decide a busted-up electronic device won’t help the situation.

  Letting out a long sigh, I glance down at the post I just pulled up from a very popular and well-known hockey blog.

  The title glares at me: “Alex Hartwell, Still Up to His Old Tricks.”

  “Great, just great.” I stare down at the accompanying picture of me, sandwiched between Viv and Vee.

  My hair is a hot mess, in need of a trim, and my abs are exposed. Their long nails are scratching down my torso, boobs smashed into either side of me. And, to make matters worse, all our tongues are out.

  Closing my eyes and sighing, I lower my phone.

  Shit, what was I thinking?

  I knew that selfie was a bad idea.

  Why did I give in?

  Why did I ham it up?

  I wasn’t even drinking.

  Fuck!

  My phone dings and my eyes fly open, breaking me from my reverie.

  It’s another text, and man, do I ever pay attention to this one.

  Just as Sebastian predicted, it’s from the Wolves’ management—the director of player operations, to be specific.

  The message is curt and simple. He and some others want to talk to me at the corporate office—pronto.

  I text back, When should I come in?

  He replies, Noon.

  Shit, it’s not even a question.

  It’s a command.

  I quickly check the time and see it’s nine already.

  Damn it, I only have three fucking hours to get myself—and a solid story—together.

  Flopping back down on the pillows and running my hand down my stubbled face, I mutter, “I am so fucked.”

  But then I remember the text from Sebastian.

  Maybe there is a way to get ahead of this crap.

  Hey, I’m up for anything at this point.

  Fluffing the pillows up behind my head, I lean back and call Sebastian.