Melting Ice (13 page)

Probably lots of women, and most likely her.

That reality hit Avery as hard as the time she’d been tossed from a horse and body-slammed into the arena wall.

* * * *

On Monday afternoon, Isaac wandered around the big house, out of sorts and bored. He’d skated, worked out, watched game film, and now he faced a lonely night with nothing to do, at least nothing that appealed to him. They didn’t play until tomorrow night. If he had his way, they’d play every night. He hated the void in his days when there wasn’t a game.

For the first time in a very long time, he wished he had a friend or two to hang with. Instead he had a dog that hated him, memories that haunted him, and guilt which sat dormant in his gut like a cannon ball.

Isaac hated self-pity worse than he hated pity from others. Since he no longer dulled his pain with alcohol, he took off on another run, using exhaustion as his drug of choice. He’d rather use sex, but currently his sexual interests centered around one woman. Unless he favored castration by the team captain, he’d need to keep his dick in his pants.

So running it was.

He roused Hal from bed, receiving a snarl for his efforts. Isaac jogged out the door, the lazy-assed dog grumbling at his heels.

Isaac turned up a primitive logging road into the woods behind the pasture and up a steep hill. His body burned from exertion, as his feet pounded harder on the road. He liked the burn and pushed harder until all he thought about was the blood pounding in his ears, his lungs screaming for air, and his legs wobbling with exhaustion.

Hal waddled along behind, way behind, not overly thrilled at this enforced exercise. Isaac expected to find him lying in the road, waiting for him, when he turned back to the house.

As he rounded a bend in the road, a lone rider on a horse approached him. He slowed to a stop and leaned over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He glanced up as the rider halted her horse about ten feet away and gazed down at him.

Avery
.

She looked like a goddess, despite her messy hair, dirty sweatshirt, and riding pants stained with God knew what. His eyes drank her in, loving how her pants hugged her nice ass and trim thighs. His gaze traveled up her legs, lingered for a moment on her breasts, and settled on her face.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He frowned and swiped the sweat from his face. Could she read him that well? The concern in her voice almost undid him. People didn’t care about him for him, only for what he might be worth to them.

“I’m fine,” he managed to squeak out between panting breaths. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you were running as if the devil was on your heels.” Her brows knit together with worry and she pushed her hair off her face with a gloved hand—black leather gloves that made him fantasize about all kinds of naughty scenarios. She slid off her horse and took a few careful steps toward him, gazing at him as if she expected him to fall over from a heart attack any second.

“No devil, just Hal, and he’ll never catch me.” Isaac glanced over his shoulder but didn’t see Hal anywhere.

“Are you sure?” She peered at him, her skepticism visible even through the sweat running into his eyes.

“Yeah. I’m sure.” He straightened, still struggling to catch his breath.

“Didn’t you run already this morning?”

He managed a tired grin. “You noticed?”

Her face flamed red, and he liked that a lot. “It’s hard not to notice when you continually run by the barn and every lady there suddenly takes her horse out to graze near the road.”

“Including you?” He cocked his head and managed a tired lopsided grin.

She shrugged one shoulder and kicked at a rock with one foot.

“Do you want me to stop?” He was flirting with her, but he couldn’t help it.

“I—I don’t care what you do.”

She was damn cute when she was flustered. “Are you sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure.”

Her irritation amused him. “O—kay.” He snorted a laugh, loving how easy it was to get under her skin. Her big horse blinked at him with these huge brown eyes, as if it, too, saw right through him to the lonely, tortured guy he really was.

“As long as you don’t scare Tiff, or tell anyone about our mutual bad decision, I really don’t care.” She was protesting too much. He knew it, and she knew it.

Isaac took a few steps closer to her, keeping a wary eye on the horse, not certain if horses had protective instincts or not. “Is that all it was to you? A bad decision?”

“Well, it was,” she shot back, all defensive and bristly. “Knowing what we know now about each other, would you do it again?”

Isaac chewed on that for a moment. Sure, his body would do it again and again and again, but when it came to her, his body couldn’t cast a vote. “No, I wouldn’t.”

She looked disappointed, which didn’t surprise him one bit. Women never made sense. “Neither would I.” She avoided his gaze and patted her horse on the neck. The horse yawned, as if they were boring the hell out of him.

He felt the need to explain himself, not sure why it mattered. “The Sockeyes are my last shot in the NHL. I can’t screw this up.”

“You don’t think any other team would have you if the Sockeyes cut you?” she asked as they both started walking side by side back down the hill. The horse ambled next to her, and he kept Avery between the horse and him.

“No, I don’t. They were the only takers when my old team shopped me around.” His honest answer seemed to surprise her.

“Why?” She genuinely sounded as if she wanted to know the answer.

“Because I’m not a good teammate. I say the wrong things. I have a temper. I cause dissension in the locker room. I’m a selfish player. Guys don’t like me. All in all, I don’t blame them. I don’t like me either.”

“Why are you like that?” Her shoulder kept bumping his, and he liked keeping her sandwiched between him and the horse.

“Because I enjoy being a jerk,” he stated with the standard answer he gave anyone who asked that particular question.

“No, you don’t.” She glanced at him, briefly meeting his gaze and once again reminding him that she looked deeper than other people did, even his own family.

“What are you? An armchair shrink?” he shot back, a little irritated at her savvy assessment of him.

“Maybe. I think being an asshole keeps people from getting too close. Am I right?”

He shrugged. He should end this conversation right here and now, but he didn’t, even though she trod on sensitive ground. On some level, it felt good to talk to someone. He hadn’t had that in three years, not that he was talking much. Yet.

“I’ve been reading about you since that altercation with your brother Saturday night, trying to figure out what his problem is.”

“Wonderful,” he said sarcastically, but his sarcasm didn’t deter her.

“So answer me this. I don’t understand why your brother blames you for your sister’s death. She died in a car accident. You weren’t even there.”

Jesus
. Isaac ran his hands through his hair and sighed. Up ahead, Hal lay in the road panting; he’d barely travelled a hundred yards from Isaac’s house before he’d plopped down his lazy fat ass and waited for Isaac on his return trip.

They were almost back to the barn. If he stalled just a few minutes longer, he—

“Isaac,” Avery said with strained patience. “Talk to me.”

“Why should I talk to you?”

“Because you need to talk to someone, and I’m that someone.”

His gut clenched and his throat constricted at her words of concern and kindness. He could’ve turned toward his house and left her to walk back to the barn. Instead he stayed beside her, and they continued toward the barn as the sun set over the hills to the west.

“Isaac,” she said again, only this time her voice was soft and gentle. It pierced his armor, cracking it open, and compelled him to answer.

“Sometimes a person can do something that creates a chain reaction, and the end result is the same as if he were sitting in the driver’s seat of the car when it went off the road.” Isaac glued his eyes to the gravel road, finding it difficult to put one foot in front of the other.

“What did you do, Isaac, to start that chain reaction?” They bumped shoulders again, and she reached for his hand and squeezed it. Her small gesture of compassion burrowed a tunnel under his barriers and into his heart. People didn’t care about Isaac; the ones who tried were pushed away until they gave up on him. He’d push Avery away, too, but right now, she was still here, and he drew strength from her calm support.

Isaac chewed on the inside of his check, but the pain didn’t distract him from her question or the way she looked at him—not with disgust or accusation but with sadness and pity. Usually Isaac hated nothing more than being pitied, yet for some reason it didn’t bother him quite as much when it was Avery doing the pitying.

“You’re not going to answer me, are you?”

Her hand in his felt warm and secure, yet he ground his jaw so hard, his teeth should’ve been reduced to dust. “No, I’m not.”

That should’ve been his cue to leave, but he walked with her into the barn, unable to force his hand to let her go or his feet to take him home.

“Why not?” She halted in the aisle, still holding his hand and turning to face him. Her eyes searched his, and he feared she saw too much and probably wouldn’t like what she saw.

“I—I just can’t.” He pulled his hand from hers and ducked from her dissecting gaze, faking interest in the big black horse in the nearest stall. The creature sulked in the corner and kicked out at the wooden boards on the wall with a loud thwack. Isaac leaned closer and the crazy animal whirled around, teeth bared, and lunged at him. Isaac leapt back several steps as the angry creature ran his teeth up and down the metal bars separating Isaac from life and death.

“Jesus,” he muttered. The black monster was Isaac in a horse suit.

Avery didn’t look amused. “You’re not distracting me that easily.”

“You think I incited this attack on purpose?”

“You, Mr. Wolfe, are capable of anything.” Avery raised an eyebrow, and her borderline amusement broke the tension between them.

He chuckled. “What’s his name?” He pointed at the black horse pacing his stall as if he were plotting his next attempt at a world takeover.

“Onyx.” She pointed at the other horse, the one she’d been riding. “And he’s Riot.”

“Onyx seems to hate the world and everyone in it.”

Avery raised an eyebrow. “I’m impressed. You’re right, he does.”

“And Riot—that name doesn’t fit him by the way—doesn’t seem to give a shit about anything.”

Avery smiled a huge smile, and Isaac smiled back. Her smile was damn contagious. “Right again. Horses aren’t like people. They’re open books; they don’t hide their emotions, but it’s up to their riders to interpret what’s going on because they can’t talk.”

“What made them like that?” Isaac genuinely wanted to know, which shocked him. Since when did he care about anyone, especially horses?

“Abuse at the hands of their owners all in the name of blue ribbons. They’re both talented horses who were forced, maybe even beaten, to perform.”

Isaac peered into Onyx’s stall, careful to keep a safe distance. “Is that why he has those bare patches on his sides?”

Avery didn’t answer. Isaac turned around. She was biting on her lower lip, as if she were going to cry. A strangled sob escaped from her throat. She shoved her fist in her mouth blinked several times.

“Avery? Are you okay?”

She nodded, her huge blue eyes liquid with unshed tears. This time he did the comforting. He grabbed both hands and held them tight.

“Yes, from spurs. I just hate to see what happens to horses at the hands of some people. Sam likes to take on horses everyone else has given up on and give them a new life. We specialize in reclamation projects here. From what we were told, Onyx was beaten with a whip and cut with sharp spurs. He fought back, and the more he fought, the more they abused him. At one point in time, they tied his head as high as they could to the rafters and left him like that for hours. To this day, you can’t tie him. He completely freaks out.”

Anger coursed through Isaac at the thought of someone doing such an awful thing to this noble animal. “How does anyone even handle him?”

“Sam is the best at what she does. Calm. Quiet. Gentle yet firm.”

“You love these horses, don’t you?”

“With everything I have.” Avery nodded. Isaac got it. He understood having a passion to the exclusion of anything else. That’s how he felt about hockey.

“Do you have a horse of your own?”

“No, I can’t afford one. I have to be content with riding the training horses. Once I get them going well, they’re either sold out from underneath me or their owners start riding them.” She sighed and stared at their clasped hands.

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, it does,” she admitted.

Isaac never made small talk with women except to get them into bed. Only with Avery, this wasn’t small talk, and it wasn’t to get her into bed, even though he wanted her so badly he ached for her. This was out of genuine interest in her as a person, and it felt good to get to know her.

And it felt right.

Chapter 9—Not Really a Date

Avery unsaddled Riot, groomed him, and put him away. All the while, Isaac hung out with her, asking questions about the horses and her riding as if he was interested in her answers. Even her own family never cared enough about her passion for horses to ask her about them.

But Isaac did.

She took her time just to keep him around. She’d discovered that not only did she lust after his hot body, but she enjoyed his company. Once he dropped the asshole act, he could be a really nice, sweet guy. He’d probably be appalled if she ever called him sweet to his face.

“Are you done for the evening?” he asked as she shut Riot’s stall door.

“Yeah. I’m finished up. Monday is my day off from teaching. Normally I teach students until eight, sometimes nine, at night.”

“You must work a lot of hours.”

She laughed. “It’s probably like hockey. Even on my days off, I don’t get a day off. I start riding horses at eight in the morning until after lunch, then I teach. Usually I ride and teach six days a week. Wedged in between, I hold horses for horse shoers and vets, treat wounds, administer medications, etc. You name it, I do it. Sometimes if the barn help calls in sick, I clean stalls and turnout horses, too.”