Home Ice (4 page)

“You don’t need to explain.”

I glanced over at him and locked on to his blue-gray eyes, which seemed to see straight into my soul, but that was enough to convince me to take him at his word. I seemed to put so much effort into explaining things, because most of the world didn’t really understand what Down syndrome was, that it was second nature. It was nice to be around someone who simply understood. I smiled. I couldn’t help it.

“I promise I won’t offer your girls anything else without talking to you first,” Mattias said. The way he looked at me when he said it left me breathless, almost trembling. He might as well have told me I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, because that was what his eyes were saying to me. Those words had a decidedly more profound effect on me than anything he could have said about my appearance might have, anyway.

“Thank you for that.” Belatedly, I realized I was staring down at my hands in my lap, my sudden shyness similar to Zoe’s when she’d seen her crush across the concourse, and I forced myself to meet his gaze again. Good grief. I was thirty-nine years old. I should be able to look in a man’s eyes without falling apart like my teenaged daughter at my age, and I’d be damned if I wouldn’t manage it.

He smiled. Heaven help me, he had the most amazing smile. It was bold and confident but nowhere close to being cocky.

“I thought hockey players were supposed to be missing half their teeth,” I joked. But then I remembered that he was the coach, not one of the players, and I wished I could take it back. Not that you could tell he wasn’t a player based on his size.

He was every inch as big and strong as the three younger men seated in front of us. Maybe even bigger. There was no hiding the muscle filling out his frame, not even under the impeccable suit he wore, and their builds were closer to those of teenaged boys. It took years to build up the kind of muscle mass Mattias had. I knew muscles as well as I knew the back of my hand. I worked with them every day. Even with my eyes closed, I could tell so many things about a person just using my sense of touch.

But Mattias winked. “Now that I’m not playing anymore, I got permanent bridges put in.” Then he flashed that smile at me again, not that I could tell the difference between the real teeth or the fake ones.

Yeah. That was a panty-melting smile if ever there was one. Poof! My panties might as well be gone. Which meant my brain had already all but disappeared.

If I had to spend too much time in this man’s presence, I was due for some serious trouble.

“So you played before you coached?” I asked, trying to bring everything internal back under control.

“Nearly two decades in the National Hockey League. I grew up playing hockey in Stockholm. My grandparents made a lot of sacrifices so I could play, especially once my sister came into the picture. She needed so much of my parents’ time and their resources, it was the only way I would have been able to play.”

I didn’t know what social services were like in Sweden, but I knew all too well what they were like here. Dan and I put every penny we could into Sophie’s trust. She’d be able to get a job someday, but it wouldn’t be the sort of job that would support her. At least she would have her sisters once the two of us were gone, but the more we could have already in place for her, the better.

But, as tempting as it was to talk to him more about his sister, I ended up putting my foot in my mouth again.

“How many teeth did you lose?”

“A dozen?” He gave me an odd look, as if he thought I could confirm or deny his response. “No, maybe it was thirteen.”

“That’s a lot of teeth to lose.”

“Yes, but it was a small price to pay to be able to build the career I had. Actually, the one I have,” he corrected himself.

“I suppose you must love hockey. It’s nice to be able to make a career out of doing something you love.”

“You sound like someone who has experience doing exactly that.”

I arched a brow. “Do I?”

“Like recognizes like,” he replied, a knowing tone coloring his words.

And he was right. I did love my work. Massage therapy was physically exhausting work but as rewarding as anything I’d ever done outside of being a mother. “I suppose you’re right,” I finally conceded after he continued to eye me with a hint of a smirk.

“So, tell me, Paige,” he said. “Is it all right if I call you Paige?”

“Yes.” At the moment, I was fine with him calling me anything, as long as he would keep talking. He had a smooth, rich voice, and the hint of his Swedish accent was just enough to present some spice, like chocolate with a hint of cinnamon.

“Paige. I like that name. You can call me Matti if you want.”

“Matti? Is that what everyone calls you?”

“Not everyone,” he said. “Just my sister. But you can call me that if it fits for you.”

“Oh.” The word came out sounding soft and dreamy. Sitting here and talking with him made me
feel
soft and dreamy. But he didn’t look like a Matti to me. He seemed much too dignified for that. Too hot. “I think I’ll stick with Mattias, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. It didn’t make him look old, just insanely handsome. “Tell me what it is you love to do, Paige.”

I didn’t even pause to think. Before I could stop myself, I said, “To look at you.” I could have shot myself for blurting that out, but there was no taking it back.

And there was no deluding myself into thinking he might have missed it, either. Not with the way he chuckled. “I love to look at you, too,” Mattias said. “I think I’m enjoying it a lot more than I should.”

I should have kept my mouth shut. I should have turned to check on my girls, or looked to see what was happening down on the ice, or done any number of things other than what I did next. But, just like the teenager in a thirty-nine-year-old’s body I’d apparently become, I did the exact opposite of what I should do; I let my hormones win.

“Why shouldn’t you enjoy looking?” I asked, sounding much saucier than I felt. Inside, everything was roiling and jumbling and taut, like Izzy’s bowstring during archery practice.

Mattias angled his head, taking me in more fully. Not to mention appreciatively. “Well, if you put it that way.”

Not only had I put it that way but I didn’t want to take it back, as long as he was going to continue looking at me that way.

It had been too damn long since anyone had flirted with me. I wasn’t fooling myself. This wasn’t going to last any longer than just today, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy myself for a little while.

It wouldn’t mean the world was ending.

No harm would come to my girls just because I decided to let myself feel like a woman for a few hours.

Maybe a little flirtation was exactly what the doctor ordered. After today, life could go back to normal. But for now? A sexy-as-sin man was looking at me like there was nothing else he would rather be doing, nowhere else he would rather be, and I was determined to let myself enjoy it.

I COULDN’T SEEM
to help myself. I’d initially been drawn to Sophie, but now that she was happily latched on to 501 for the foreseeable future, her mother was drawing all my focus.

She was blinking at me. I couldn’t decide if she was wishing she hadn’t returned my flirtation or surprised that she had. Either way, I didn’t mind. I liked the effect I seemed to be having on Paige. In fact, I might like it a bit too much. Wedding ring or no, she probably didn’t have time to get involved with someone, let alone a man as married to his work as me. It had always been my biggest flaw. I couldn’t keep track of how many times Linnea had told me to
Loosen up, Matti
. I worked so hard in order to be sure she never went without anything and everything she needed, of course, but Linnea never saw that. She only knew she rarely got to see me other than on a TV screen and for a few weeks in the summer, which wasn’t nearly enough.

I’d thought about bringing her to the US with me. In fact, I’d talked it over with our parents multiple times, but we’d always concluded it was best to keep her in Sweden. While she was there, she had our parents, she had her friends, she knew the language, and she was receiving excellent social services. If I brought her to live with me, we would have to go through a mountain of paperwork and red tape to get her the same benefits, and then what would happen if I ended up working for a team in Canada instead of the States? It was a definite possibility, so we’d decided to keep Linnea in Sweden as long as our parents were able to continue giving her the aid she needed. After that, I’d have some tough decisions to make.

That was yet another reason for me to avoid getting involved with someone. In fact, I’d sworn off starting up new relationships with women years ago. I’d dated a few women back in my playing days, but it had never lasted long. They didn’t understand why I chose to live modestly, driving a Toyota instead of a Mercedes and living in a reasonable house instead of buying a multimillion-dollar house. They were gold diggers, plain and simple. They wanted me to spend lavishly on them, and when I refused—stating I had other, more important uses for my money—things came crashing to a halt. After a few repetitions of this same pattern, I’d decided it wasn’t worth my while to keep putting myself through it, and it definitely wasn’t worth potentially losing anything I intended to set aside for Linnea’s future.

Something told me Paige would more than understand where I was coming from, which only encouraged me to keep up the flirtation we’d already started. This might not be my brightest move ever, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

The blaring music from the opening of the event finally came to an end, and they brought up the lights again. The team was split in half, one group wearing the home colors and the other group wearing road whites. As captain, Babs had made the executive decision as to who would be coaching each of the two teams today. He’d brought in kids from some of the local peewee teams to take over that job, giving me and the rest of the coaches the day off, essentially. Tim Whitlock, the Storm’s in-arena entertainment director, came over the PA system to announce the first event would be the fastest skater competition.

“Fastest skater,” Paige murmured. “Any chance this would have been your event?”

“Not in this lifetime. Skating was never my strength.” I’d been lucky to make it into the NHL at all, actually, but I’d found ways to make my shortcomings work for me. “I would have been in the hardest shot competition.”

She passed appraising eyes over me, letting them hold longer than necessary on my biceps. “I suppose I can see that.”

“This should be interesting, though. The whole team right now is built on speed and skill, other than a couple of the older veteran players. There are a few guys who are faster than others, of course, but I think the winner could surprise some people.”

“My money’s on Jens,” 501 said, looking over his shoulder at us.

“Jens?” Jo-Jo said incredulously. “Not a chance. It’s Koz all the way.”

Devo let out a cross between a snort and a chuckle. “Coop young and fast. Too big energy. He leave them in dust.” His English was broken and heavy with his Eastern European accent, but there he got his point across well enough.

The three they named were certainly among the top contenders, but I had someone else in mind who could potentially run away with it. I thought Nate “Ghost” Golston had an opportunity to make a big impression today.

Paige’s daughters tittered and giggled, each of them naming a player she thought was the fastest. They still hadn’t settled down by the time the competition began.

After the two goalies raced each other in full pads—which was a complete debacle but got the fans involved when Nicky just barely beat Bobby by a skate blade—they ran five heats of regular skaters. In the end, it was Ghost for the white team and Koz for the purple team who turned in the fastest times. They were all set to race each other to determine the winner when Paige leaned over.

“You don’t seem at all surprised,” she said quietly in my ear. Her breath tickled my neck, turning my thoughts entirely away from the action down below.

“Ghost was my pick from the beginning,” I said.

“Ghost was? Really?” 501 gave me a look of pure skepticism.

“Yeah, Ghost. Maybe you should think about why that is.” Ghost was easily the smallest guy on the team, so a lot of times he got overlooked by guys like 501 and other defensemen like him. They thought that because they had longer legs and weighed more, they would have the upper hand. I knew from experience, though, that the smallest guys out there were also the best at evading the big guys like me, and it had a lot to do with speed. When Ghost wanted to turn on his jets, he could really fly across the ice. I hoped he would choose to do so today, actually. I wanted to use it to convince him he could give more than he’d been giving in games in order to be a more effective player.

I’d never been the kind of teacher who would spell everything out for someone, though. I liked letting my players learn things on their own, only giving them a nudge in the right direction when necessary. That was what I hoped to do with 501. He let out a grunting sort of sound and turned his attention back to the ice, while the crew changed the setup for the next event.