Skirting the Ice (The Bannister Brothers #3) Read online

  And the only place she truly felt safe.

  Chapter Two

  Later that afternoon, Jack walked into the ice arena where the Colorado Summit practiced. The smell always hit him first—a mixture of sweat, ice, and stale popcorn.

  He used to love coming to the arena, loved coming to games with his brothers, loved playing and skating with them. But once his asthma got worse, his mom kept him home and off the ice. His twin brother, Nate, often stayed home with him, spending his time getting more into music and less into hockey.

  Jack peered into the arena area and spotted his brother sitting in the bleachers several rows up from the ice. He waved and headed down the steps.

  “Hey, O,” he said.

  “Hey, brother.” Owen stood and clapped him affectionately on the shoulder. “Thanks for coming down here. I know I need to get that stuff signed today, and there was no way I would have had time to make it over to Mom and Dad’s.”

  Thanks to his brother’s connections, Jack took care of the finances for several of the Summit’s players. They paid him well and kept him busy enough that he didn’t need many other clients, and he could work from an office in his apartment. His schedule gave him more flexibility, and he often drove to the arena to meet with his brothers or the other players.

  “It’s fine,” he said. “I needed to meet one of the other guys too, plus I had some other errands to run anyway.” He wanted to stop by the hardware store and get a few painting supplies to bring over to Murphy’s this weekend. He wasn’t that handy with tools, but he knew he could paint without making too much of a fool of himself.

  He hadn’t stopped thinking about her all day.

  “I just need you to sign a couple of things.” He handed his brother a pen from his front pocket, then pulled a stack of papers from his messenger bag.

  Owen scribbled his signature in the appropriate boxes.

  He took the pages back. “I’ll get all of this sent in tomorrow.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate you taking care of all this stuff.”

  “No worries. It’s my job.” He grinned. “But I’ll let you pick up the tab for dinner next time we go out.”

  His brother chuckled. “Done.”

  “All right.” He stuffed the papers back in his bag. “I’m gonna take off.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll probably see you this weekend. I think Mom said she was making meatloaf for lunch on Saturday.”

  He knew Owen wouldn’t miss their mom’s meatloaf. But he wasn’t thinking about what he was eating this weekend, all he could think about was spending time with Murphy.

  But maybe he should be thinking about food. That was something he could do. He might not be much for handy work, but he could at least feed her. He was great at ordering pizza.

  The door opened on the other side of the ice rink, and a group of hockey players skated out. They circled the rink, the air filling with the sounds of their skates cutting the ice and pucks being dropped.

  Several of the players had braids or ponytails coming out of their helmets and curves under their hockey jerseys.

  “What’s up with this?” Jack asked his brother. “I didn’t know you had a women’s league practicing here.”

  “They just arrived,” Owen explained, turning to watch the players. “They’re a new team that the Summit is sponsoring, and they’re trying to get into the Women’s National Hockey League. The league only has four teams so far, but there’s a push to add more. I think it’s more the president of our team’s wife that’s sponsoring them, but it’s good publicity for us as well. They’ve got us scheduled to practice with them a few times, and we’re doing an exhibition game with them later in the season.”

  Jack watched as they set up a roundhouse drill and alternately took shots at the goalie. “They’re pretty good.”

  “Yeah. I haven’t seen them practice, but I’ve heard they’ve got some real talent.”

  “Hey Bannister!” one of the women yelled and waved then skated across the ice to where they stood.

  Both brothers waved back.

  “Who the hell is that?” Owen said out of the corner of his mouth.

  “I have no idea,” Jack answered. “I assume it’s one of your many legions of fans.” Between his fame on the ice and his handsome good looks, Owen was often stopped when they were out in public and asked for autographs, or more often than not, handed phone numbers by beautiful women.

  This woman pulled off her helmet, spilling a long blond ponytail as she tipped her head up to look at them over the glass.

  What the hell?

  “Murphy?” Jack’s heart sank with a perceivable thud.

  What was she doing here? And why was she playing hockey? He groaned inwardly. This was just freaking great. He could not get away from this sport.

  “Nice suit, Jack,” she called, a grin spreading across her face. “You clean up good.”

  Even though he worked from home, he often put on a coat and tie when he made an appearance at the rink. He felt it gave the players more confidence in him when he looked more professional for their meetings. But right now he just felt like a dork.

  “Thanks,” he answered, feeling the heat of embarrassment warm his neck. Every time he was around her, he felt like that nerdy kid in high school again.

  “Hey, Owen.” She waved to his brother.

  Jack pointed to the woman on the ice. “Owen, you remember Murphy Ryan?”

  “Murphy Ryan? Holy shit. What are you doing here?”

  “Skating. What does it look like?”

  “I didn’t know you played hockey.” He took a few steps down the bleachers so he could talk to her better over the top of the glass, and Jack followed along.

  “I learned from the best. After spending all that time playing with you guys, I fell in love with the sport and joined a league when my dad moved us out east. I played in college too, and when I heard about the team forming in Colorado, I jumped at the chance.”

  “You didn’t say anything about playing when I saw you this morning,” Jack said, still stunned at this new development. This was one more thing she would have in common with his brother. He could not catch a break with this girl.

  “I didn’t get a chance. I was too busy trying to keep you from stealing my dog,” she teased.

  Owen’s eyes widened. “You stole her dog? Dude.”

  “No. I mean sort of. I didn’t mean to. I saw her dog in the yard next door and thought it was Maggie. They look almost identical.”

  “Next door? At her grandpa’s?”

  “Yeah, she just moved back in. John left her the house,” Jack explained.

  Owen turned back to Murphy. “Sorry to hear about your grandpa. I always liked him. It’ll be good to have you back in the neighborhood. Although the house is not quite the same as when John lived there. Some of the renters haven’t taken very good care of it.”

  “Tell me about it. I’m pretty much gutting the place and starting over.” Murphy grinned up at Jack. “Your brother offered to help me this weekend, so I’m putting him to work.”

  Owen turned to him, his eyes wide. “You? You’re gonna help gut a house?”

  “Yeah? So what?”

  Owen chuckled and called down to Murphy. “You sure you know what you’re getting into? Jack knows more about power cords than power tools.”

  His face burned with humiliation. Especially because what Owen was saying was true.

  “I don’t care,” Murphy answered. “I’ll take all the help I can get right now.”

  “I’ll be over at my folks’ house at some point this weekend,” Owen said. “I can stop by and help out too if you need another hand.”

  What? No, they did not need another hand. His brother was screwing up the time he’d planned to spend alone with Murphy.

  “Yeah, sure. Like I said, I need all the help I can get,” she said.

  Wait. Maybe this was what she was hoping for all along. Maybe she thought if she could get Jack to come over, then lat
er she could wheedle him into bringing Owen along.

  A whistle blew, and Murphy raised a gloved hand. “I gotta get back. Good seeing you, Owen. I’ll see you both this weekend.”

  “See ya,” Jack mumbled, his heart aching as he watched her skate away.

  Owen shook his head. “Wow. Murphy Ryan—I haven’t thought about her in ages.”

  “Yeah, me either.” If by ages, he meant in the last three minutes. “Listen, I gotta get going. I’ll see you later.” He turned and trudged up the arena steps.

  His brother waved, still shaking his head as he watched Murphy skate across the ice.

  Murphy pulled off another T-shirt and tossed it on the floor. It landed in the pile with the other three shirts she’d tried on and decided against.

  They were just painting and working on the house, she reminded herself. It’s not like this was a date or anything.

  So why had she gotten up early that Saturday morning so she’d have time to shower and get ready before Jack arrived? And why had she spent the last hour doing her hair and makeup and trying to pick out the perfect shirt that said “I’m fun and casual” while at the same time saying “But I’m also cute and sexy”?

  The doorbell rang.

  Shit. He’s here.

  She grabbed the pink V-neck that was next in her drawer and pulled it over her head. It was one of her favorites and probably not the best choice for working on the house, but she loved it and felt good in it.

  “I’ll be right there,” she yelled, as she slipped her feet into a pair of worn running shoes and then hurried to open the front door.

  Jack stood on her doorstep, juggling a paint roller handle, a box of donuts, a tray of coffees, and a bag from the local hardware store. He grinned sheepishly. “I brought supplies.”

  His grin did funny things to her insides, and a battalion of butterflies raced through her belly. He was still so cute.

  He had on khaki shorts, sneakers, and a crisp white T-shirt, and his thick dark hair curled a little on the ends where it was still damp from his shower.

  She stepped back, and he walked into the house, leaving her surrounded with the scent of coffee, donuts, and his amazing aftershave.

  Oh. My. Gawd. She didn’t know which she was hungrier for—the donuts or him. Maybe she could just smear a little icing on his chest and have both. She’d already seen him with his shirt off, and the thought of his toned abs was making her mouth water more than the aroma wafting from the bakery box.

  Down girl.

  Start with coffee.

  Yeah, coffee would be good.

  She needed to engage her brain, not her libido. She was back in Colorado to focus on her career and getting this new hockey league going. Not to get involved with the first hot guy who brought her donuts.

  Although she knew Jack was more than just some hot guy. Much more.

  “Murphy?”

  “Wha—?” She looked up, startled out of her memories of those summers long ago.

  Jack was holding out a cup. “I asked you if you wanted anything with your coffee.”

  She blinked. Yes, a side of donut icing smeared across your chest. She shook her head and took the cup. “No, I’m good. Coffee’s good.”

  He opened the box of donuts and offered it to her. “I hope this is okay. I remember you always used to like the maple iced ones when we were kids, so I got a few of those and then had them do a mix of the rest.”

  “You remembered that I liked maple iced donuts?” Her heart did a tumble. How could he remember such a small detail?

  Although she remembered so many details about him—like the way his forehead wrinkled in concentration when he was trying to solve a math problem and the small white line of scar tissue that ran across his thumb from where his skin had been split open by the force of a flying puck.

  Her gaze went to the scar as he held the box out to her, and she was tempted to run her finger along the white line of scar tissue. Instead she pointed to the mark as she grabbed a donut. “I remember when you got that scar. Your mom was so mad.”

  He pulled his hand back, and the tips of his ears turned pink. “Yeah, my brothers still give me a hard time for trying to catch that puck with my hand.”

  She laughed. “They might give you a hard time, but they felt terrible. You should have seen them after your mom took you to Urgent Care for stitches. Nathan went with you, but the rest of us felt awful, then your dad spent thirty minutes railing us about safety and wearing the proper equipment.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of Jack’s mouth, and her stomach pitched at the way he looked when he grinned. He was so dang cute. “Yeah, I remember he went out and bought us all new pads and gloves the next day.”

  “Including me. I couldn’t believe it. That was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for me. I still have those gloves. I wear them for practice.”

  “Wow. That’s cool. You know my dad loved you. He was always telling us to give you respect as a fellow player, but also to be careful not to hurt you.”

  Good advice. She wished a few other people would have heeded that advice.

  “Your dad is a good man. In fact, I think all of the Bannister men seem like good men. You all were a good influence on me—you and my grandfather—during a time when I needed some good influence. I mean, my dad tried, but he was gone so much, and I’ll be the first to admit that not having a female role model in your life can really mess up a teenager. Your mother was the closest thing I ever had to a mom, and that was only for a few summers.”

  “She would love it that you think that.”

  “Geez, I don’t know why I’m getting all mushy all of a sudden. I guess it’s this house. Being here brings back a lot of memories.” She stuffed a donut in her mouth to keep down the emotions that were welling in her throat.

  Jack nodded—just a tiny bob of his head. He understood. He’d always understood what she needed. He looked around the room. “Yeah, we had a lot of good times here. But you’re right, this place needs a lot of work. What do you want to work on first?”

  “Let’s start in the kitchen and living room, then we can move to the bedroom.”

  Oh crap—that wasn’t what she meant to say.

  His eyes widened, then he grinned. “Okay, but usually a woman buys me dinner first.” He was teasing her, acting cool, but the pink tinges on his ears gave him away.

  “You know what I meant.” She tossed the final bite of her donut at him. It glanced off his hand and hit the floor.

  Like a donut-seeking beacon, her dog, Winston, raced into the room and gobbled up the tiny bite of pastry.

  Jack chuckled. “How about you just show me around?”

  “Good idea.” She led him into the kitchen and told him her ideas for replacing the cabinets and creating a half-wall that opened up the kitchen and the living room.

  “The majority of the work is in the kitchen. The living room mainly needs paint and new carpet,” she said over her shoulder, aware that he could be watching her butt as she walked up the stairs in front of him. “Same with upstairs. I’m not doing a lot of remodeling up here, just painting and new floors. And I want to update the master bathroom—make it more modern.”

  The house was a two-story with the garage and kitchen on one end, the living room in the center, and a small office and bath on the main level. The upstairs had the master bedroom with its own bath and two other bedrooms. A door at the end of the hall led to the attic.

  The carpet was as old as the house, and she didn’t think her grandfather had painted any of the rooms since she’d spent the summers there. “The house has some great structure, but it’s outdated and the renters ruined the carpet and put holes in the walls.”

  “I agree,” Jack said, patting the wall as they walked back down the stairs. “The house has good bones, and it sounds like you have some great ideas.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not very good at this. But I know what I don’t like. And the green shag carpet has got to go
.”

  He chuckled. “True.”

  She pointed at the ladder leaning on the wall. “I figured we could work on the living room and the kitchen this weekend. Maybe get this room painted and some of the demolition done in the kitchen.”

  “Sounds good.” He held up the supplies he’d brought. “I got my own roller handle and some extra rollers. I wasn’t sure if you had two.”

  “That’s awesome. You always were the organized one.” She nodded at the row of paint cans and bin of supplies lined up on the kitchen counter. “I bought some paint and brushes. I picked a buttery yellow for the living room. We might as well start with that.”

  “Buttery yellow?”

  “What? That’s what the can says. What do you want to call it? Sunny yellow? Lemony? Banana? What do you think of when you think of yellow?”

  He stroked his chin. “Minions.”

  She burst out laughing. “Minions? Seriously?” She nudged his shoulder, trying to ignore the zing of heat that ran down her spine from the contact with him. “Fine. We’ll paint this room a light Minion Yellow. Now grab that ladder and quit giving me a hard time.”

  He set up the ladder and unwrapped a new paint brush to cut in the trim while she opened and stirred the paint.

  Crossing to the ladder, she handed him the paint can, and he balanced it on the top step as he climbed up a few rungs.

  He started above the hallway door, drawing a line of paint across the top edge of the wall.

  Murphy stood below him, watching him work. “So, um, I was just wondering if you currently have anyone that is buying you dinner.”

  “Dinner?” he asked absently as he seemed focused on holding the paintbrush steady.

  “Yeah, you know, you said earlier that usually a woman buys you dinner first. I was just wondering if anyone was currently doing that—the buying you dinner thing.”

  The paintbrush slipped, leaving a mar of yellow paint smeared down the wall, and his eyes widened as he tipped his head toward her. “Are you asking me if I’m seeing anyone? Like a girlfriend?”