“Wasn’t it perfect? The distillery looked beautiful.”
“But no match for the bride. You looked stunning.”
Sarah grinned. “Thank you. Hey, come sit with us while you wait for your food.”
With a hand on her arm, Sarah didn’t wait for an answer before she dragged her to her table.
“Karl, look who’s here. And do you remember Anders from the wedding?”
Olivia’s heart dropped, bounced off the high-gloss floor, and resituated itself uncomfortably in her chest.
“Hey, Liv. Thanks again for such a great evening for our wedding.” Karl stood and hugged her, and Olivia responded mechanically. “Anders told us about the kitchen issue. I hope the caterers are okay.”
“They’re both great. Doria had a concussion and Anne needed surgery, but it’s all good. I’m glad you felt your experience wasn’t ruined by it.” She was rambling and knew it.
She looked at Anders, taking in his messy blond hair and intense stare. His navy sweater looked buttery soft and fit his frame to perfection.
“Hey, Anders.”
He nodded in her direction. It was polite.
It hurt.
She hadn’t expected him to stand and declare his undying love over a half-finished noodle bowl. But the cold indifference was painful.
“Anyway,” she said as brightly as she could muster. “I see my food’s ready. I’ll leave you to your dinner.”
Ignoring the slightly confused looks on Karl’s and Sarah’s faces, and the disregard in Anders’s, she hurried to the greeter to take her bag and leave.
Goddamn, this was why one-night stands didn’t work for her, even if the one night she and Anders had spent together had been nothing short of glorious.
She tugged her scarf up around her ears to keep out the cold as she furiously hammered the button for the light on the crosswalk.
Asshole.
He’d succeeded in ruining her memory of the wonderful night they’d spent together. A night that had reminded her she was human. That she was a woman with needs. That there were still parts of her that weren’t broken. He hadn’t treated her like she was fragile.
The events and memories of that night had already taken on a most wonderfully dreamlike quality.
Olivia shook her head to clear her thoughts. Why did it even bother her so much? It wasn’t like she wanted anything more from him. He was nothing more than a fantasy. He was the kind of guy that romance books were written about. Girl next door swept off her feet by brooding hockey hero. But the last thing she needed was to be swept into the media spotlight that swirled around hockey players like a snowstorm.
The lights changed and she stepped across the street. Another block and she’d be home with Charles’s awesome black cod and the first murder mystery she could find to watch.
A hand gripped her arm as she stepped onto the curb. Her mind flashed to the morning in the distillery parking lot when Robert Harding had grabbed her.
Without thought, she spun around, fist clenched.
Anders ducked, but her fist still glanced off the side of his jaw. “Steady there, kämpe.”
“Shit. Anders.” Olivia’s heart raced and she struggled to put the pieces together of how she’d gone from walking to fright to fight. She let Anders lead her farther onto the sidewalk. “I thought you were a mugger. Why would you scare me like that?”
“I’m sorry.” His blue eyes were filled with concern. “I didn’t mean to. That’s some right hook you’ve got.” He ran his fingers along the edge of his jaw.
Olivia placed a hand over her chest. “You don’t just walk up on a woman and grab her arm, Anders. Did nobody ever tell you that?”
“I called your name. I guess I just assumed you heard.”
She looked down at the food she’d been carrying. Thankfully, it survived the swing. “What does sham-peh mean, anyway?” she asked, attempting to sound out the obviously Swedish word.
“Kämpe? It’s short for slagskämpe . . .someone who is a champion fighter.”
“Funny,” Olivia said, not feeling all that amused. Whenever she was around him, the air always felt charged with energy. “What did you want?”
“Not a fist to the chin, for sure.”
Olivia turned and walked in the direction of her apartment.
“Liv,” Anders called out. “I’m sorry. Wait.”
She didn’t, she kept walking. It took a moment for Anders to realize she had no intention of stopping before he jogged to her side.
“Please. Let me at least walk you home. It’s late.”
“As you pointed out, I have a mean right hook and have walked by myself enough times to know what I’m doing.”
Anders dragged a hand through his hair. “Jävlar!”
She wasn’t sure what the word meant, but from the tone she was pretty sure it was an expletive. The idea that she had ruffled the feathers of the player who was nicknamed Iceberg made her smirk.
“Liv. You’re driving me crazy.”
She stopped and turned to face him. “You know what, Anders? I’m not doing too great, either. What happened at Christmas was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I’ve thought of that night fondly. It was a turning point for me, and you were the person who saw me. Saw me. Not the person everyone else was seeing. And now you’re back when you aren’t supposed to be, only now you’re this whole other person. Mercurial. Telling me you can’t do this. Did you chase me down the street to tell me all over again? Because I get it. So you can go back to the restaurant and finish your dinner and let me reconcile that you aren’t who I thought you were.”
Olivia’s words hit him harder than her fist had done. They knocked him off balance and he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Where was his cool demeanor, his ability to think under pressure, to see where every situation was headed? The skills he relied on in life and on the ice seemed to have deserted him. One minute in Olivia’s presence and he turned into an indecisive idiot who was as surly as he was expressive.
He wished he could take an eraser to every moment since he got back to Denver and start all over again with a bunch of fresh spring flowers and a smile.
Because, despite his best intentions to focus on hockey, his thoughts were on her anyway. And if he was already fucking distracted by her, he might as well be with her and enjoy the plus side of her company.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Shock filled Olivia’s eyes, her mouth opened to say something, but then closed quickly as if she thought better of it.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been clear with you. I’m the same guy, Liv. You aren’t the only one who was able to be the person they wanted to be that night. You didn’t see me as a hockey player, or a rich guy, or one of the Berg brothers. You saw me as a guy who could take care of you.”
“Walk with me and help me understand what happened.” Olivia turned and headed up the street away from the restaurant, where Karl and Sarah were probably wondering why the hell he upped and ran after the distillery event planner.
“You want the full version, or the summary?”
“The full version.”
“I’m at a turning point in my career. A big one. I was drafted first overall, but to a team I didn’t want to play for. It was full of veterans, so little room to grow. As a rookie, it was hard to influence the style and speed of play. It suited them, not me. But I worked hard, stayed healthy, outlasted many of them. But without the right investment in rebuilding and coaching staff, we were never going to win.”