Page 10 of At the Edge with You (Beer League Belles #1)

CHAPTER

TEN

Jett

“Well, hot damn, is that Fable Winthrop?”

I glance over at my buddy Liam Cutler and then follow his gaze to where Fable sits with the Belles. My girls and Kitty have their cross-stitching projects out in front of them as they all stare at me. Even Fable is watching me. Heat courses through my body, and I stand a bit taller. I don’t know why they’re staring at me, but I sure do enjoy my ice princess’s eyes on me. Her fingers are picking at the label of her beer as she watches me thoughtfully.

What the hell are you thinking, ice princess?

And why do I have the need to yank off my jersey, have her wear it while I play shirtless?

Would she like that?

God, she drives me insane.

Swallowing hard, I tear my gaze from my fan club to look at Liam. He’s been my buddy for years; we went to school together and always kept in touch. He went off to play for Alabama but didn’t make it to the NHL. Instead, he came home and took a job with the Ice Thistle as our AAA manager and the 16U coach. He’s been working for us for over ten years, and I’m proud of how hard he works to make our teams successful.

He’s a good dude, around 6’2” and built like an ox. He’s good-looking, I guess, and a catch, but he hasn’t been in a relationship since Chelsea’s mom. Jaime, his ex, is a great co-parent, and I always wonder if he regrets breaking it off with her. They got pregnant with Chelsea at sixteen, and thankfully, Jaime was super supportive of his dream to play hockey and moved with him to Alabama. While he got his degree in sport management, Jaime got hers in accounting at night school, so someone was always with Chelsea. They tried to make it work, but they were too young and ended up parting ways when Chelsea was around ten. Jaime is happily married, while Liam is happily coaching and living his best life.

“She’s fucking hot. Did you see her flash everyone at the funeral? I’m pretty sure she had no panties on,” he says, waggling his brows, and my face twists in confusion but also anger.

I’ve never heard him talk like he’s interested in anyone.

And I sure as fuck don’t like him finding her attractive.

What the hell?

Dean Moore leans in and nods. He is the youngest fire chief in town history. He went to school with us, played hockey for a D2 school, and came home when he was done. While he is a firefighter, he subs a lot for us since he stays back at the firehouse while his buddies all play for their team, the Hat Trick Heroes. Thistlebrook doesn’t have much crime or even many fires. The fire department is usually busy during travel hockey season, though, so he plays a lot more during their off times. He has a daughter, Skyye, who’s fourteen. He never loved her mom—they’re better as friends—but he sure loves Skyye.

With a glint I sure as hell don’t like, he says, “So hot. Is she single?”

I blink, completely caught off guard. Sure, we’ve discussed women we find attractive, but they don’t get to talk about Fable like that.

Hell, I don’t even want them looking at her.

I try to control the confusing fury that is coursing through me. I don’t understand it. I’m pissed that she owns half of the Thistle now, that once more, my dreams are being controlled by the Winthrops. I am thankful she is staying since I don’t want it to go to Richie, but fuck, it’s supposed to be mine. I don’t want to run it with her. I want to run it by myself and prove that I am worthy of doing so. I should hate her; I should want to make her leave, but I know I can’t.

And not because the Ice Thistle will go to Richie.

No. Because I want her here.

But I don’t want anyone talking about her. Or asking if she’s single.

What the hell is wrong with me?

The fury is almost crushing as I grit out, “She’s off-limits.”

I feel their gazes, but I don’t look at them. Dean scoffs. “Is that right?”

“Why?” Liam asks, leaning on the boards as everyone warms up. We should be doing the same since our hips aren’t what they used to be, but none of us moves. “Finally going to shoot your shot?”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t know if I’m believable. “Not at all. She’s working here for a year. She has no interest in getting attached.”

My statement isn’t all lies.

Dean grins. “Hey, no one said that hooking up leads to getting attached.”

I can’t punch my friend and teammate, can I?

“You never know. She may need someone to help her pass the time,” Liam teases, his eyes just as playful as his grin. “I have no problem helping out.”

“She’s your boss now. That’s not happening,” I spit, and his eyes widen.

“Wait, for real?”

“Yeah. She owns half the Thistle for the next year. It was Phillip’s way of getting her to stay here to be with Kitty.”

Dean’s jaw drops open a bit as Liam whistles. “That man and his love for that woman. He never cared who he stepped on to give her what she wanted.”

Liam isn’t wrong. I never understood Phillip’s love for his wife. His obsession. I didn’t get to see Bea with her husband, but apparently it was a lot like Kitty and Phillip’s relationship. Hazel’s relationship with Willie was decent, but he was a druggie and overdosed before I was old enough to remember them together. Then my parents’ relationship was so toxic, it was hard to believe that a man could love a woman the way Phillip loved Kitty, but I witnessed it. At times, I was in awe of it. Now, I’m being affected by it.

“She needs Fable,” I say softly, watching as Kitty shows Fable what she’s working on. I hope it’s not something new for my office. Those women and their cross-stitching are a key decorating factor in my office, and it’s really embarrassing. Especially when they make things that are highly inappropriate but speak to my soul.

My newest framed piece is a bag that obviously has dicks in it, and along the top, it reads, Eat a bag of dicks.

Bea made it, and she just loved how red I got when she gave it to me.

Crazy woman. I shake my head, exhaling. “While I hate it, and I’m pissed, I get it.”

Dean doesn’t seem to agree but nods, nonetheless. “It’ll go quick. The Ice Thistle is yours, dude. No doubt about it.”

“Yeah, I doubt she’ll give you much pushback,” Liam says, and I scoff at that.

No one knows Fable the way I do. She doesn’t back down for anyone. She can focus on something like no other and make it everything she wants. It’s her superpower. No way can I forget the welts and blisters I had from the long nights when she wouldn’t give up until we landed whatever skill we were working on. How many times I saw her eat the ice, but she’d get right back up on her skates. She never let up, never gave up, and I admired that about her. I wanted to be like her.

Before I can tell him my thoughts, Liam growls as he squeezes his stick in his hand. We follow his gaze to find Chelsea standing at center ice with Jackson Shepard, an officer who usually plays for the Blue Line Bandits but must be subbing tonight. He’s a good kid, just moved here to be with his dad, who has been battling COPD. I haven’t had much interaction with him, but it’s obvious Chelsea is interested. She grins coyly at him, her cheeks flushed, and not from the chill of the ice, as she leans on her stick in his direction. I’ve known this girl since she was a baby, and I’ve never seen her look at a guy like that. Jackson is eating it up, grinning from ear to ear, a smitten look on his face as he moves the puck around her blade playfully.

“Didn’t I tell you to kick him from the league?” Liam asks me, and I snort.

“I can’t do that, and you know it.”

Liam doesn’t like my answer. “I don’t want him near my daughter. He comes from batshit-crazy parents.”

Being in a town this small, everyone knows everyone, and he may be right, but I fucking hate when people use people’s families against them. “He’s a good kid.”

“Not good enough for my baby.”

Dean nods. “No one is good enough for our girls.” Dean slaps his hand on Liam’s back, and my heart squeezes. I don’t know what they mean because I don’t have kids.

Sometimes I wish I did.

My gaze moves to where Fable sits with the Belles. She throws her head back, laughing at something Bea said, and jealousy eats at me.

I remember when I used to make her laugh like that.

So much has changed, and now that she’s my partner again, I really don’t know how to navigate the feelings that evokes in me.

It’s as if I’m toeing the blue line, and I’m unsure if I’ll be called for offside once I let myself feel what I want. It’s fucking frustrating, but I don’t have the opportunity to dwell.

The whistle blows, and it’s time for us to fucking annihilate the Pucklic Officials.

The Beer League Belles win by four over the Pucklic Officials, and my girls are waiting for me when I come out of the locker room, fresh from a shower. Usually, I’d wait till I got upstairs, but knowing that Fable was with them, I didn’t want to stink. The girls have a table right outside the locker rooms, against the boards. Many times, a guy has knocked into just the right spot on the boards to knock over their beers, but they love it. Phillip built the spot for them about eighteen years ago, and no one else is allowed to sit there.

There is a sign with pink and gold lettering saying just that.

I’m met with hugs and kisses from everyone but Fable, and I hate how much that disappoints me. What’s a guy gotta do to get a hug from her? Not that I deserve one. I was a pure ass the other day at Phillip’s will-reading. The girls have let me know that countless times, but I just don’t know how to feel. I don’t want to be mad, but I feel like the rug has been pulled out from under me. It doesn’t help that my feelings about seeing her are riding me really hard.

I’m all-around fucking confused and unsure how to handle myself.

That’s nothing new when it comes to the ice princess.

One thing I do know is that Fable is here, and she’s just as beautiful as she was when we were younger.

She has on a Belles jersey, but it isn’t my number. It’s her grandpa’s, and I know it makes me a dick for wanting to rip it off her, but I do. Especially with how her hair is in her face. She has a few pieces pulled back with little pink bow clips, and I want to muss her up. When she walked into the rink, with her jeans basically painted on her body, my mouth went dry. It’s ridiculous how hot seeing her in jeans makes me. I’ve seen this girl with bare legs, in tights, and everything else, but it’s the jeans that get me going.

I know why.

She never wore them when we were younger. Elena always made Fable wear dresses or slacks to keep up appearances. It was insane, and I know she hated it. When she’d sneak and wear jeans, the joyful look on her face would leave me grinning for days. Fable has a rebel streak that I thoroughly enjoy. She was a sight to behold, but nothing like she is now, her legs crossed, her knee bouncing as she looks down at her beer. I can tell she’s nervous around me as she continues to pick at the label of the beer I saw her get midway through the game, and I don’t like that I’m causing her stress.

We have a concession stand that serves beer, and I guess she isn’t a fan of the Michelob Ultra Bea brings. I don’t blame her; that shit tastes like piss. But that doesn’t mean I won’t drink it as Bea passes me one. I bring it to my lips just as Fable looks up to find me watching her. I should be embarrassed that I’m so openly staring at her, but I’m not.

I need to say something, so I tip my beer at her. “Ice princess.”

Her lips quirk, and I love how the nickname brings a little heat to her eyes. “Pretty boy.”

The Belles cackle, and I smirk behind my beer before taking a long pull. “Enjoy the game?” I ask, and she nods.

“I forgot how much fun these games are.”

“It was a little chippy tonight,” I agree, leaning into the table. “Those guys try to act like they’re the best, but they can’t touch us.”

She fights back a grin. “I hear the play-offs are coming up.”

I nod. “They are, and since you own the place with me, I hope you’ll come.”

I can’t identify the look on her face, but I don’t miss the way she tries to hide that smile I love.

“We’re here every Saturday, Fable,” Mom says, stealing her attention from me. I watch as she grins at my mom. “You should join us.”

Kitty pats her hand before she’s able to answer. “She is. She just doesn’t know it yet. I’m turning her into a Belle. I just gotta get her to cross-stitch.”

The horror on Fable's face makes me smirk as I look down to hide how my mouth turns up around her. If the girls catch wind, they’ll meddle, and my feelings are confusing enough. “I will come to games, but I’m not cross-stitching. Could you imagine? My house will be full of all the things I make…until I hate them and then set them on fire.”

I snort at her outburst, while everyone else looks at her in horror.

Needing to change the subject, I guess, Kitty looks at me. “Jett dear, I tried to show Fable around when we got here, but we were a bit late. Can you show her?”

I look up, a frown on my face. “She knows this place.”

“Sure,” she says, a mischievous glint to her gaze. “But she hasn’t seen the new offices or the new apartments.”

“Apartments,” Fable repeats, and once more, like magnets, our eyes meet. “There are apartments?”

“Yeah,” I say roughly, loving the green of her eyes. “Phillip built them about six years ago since we didn’t need all the space for offices. We still have four offices, but now, we also have three apartments. He wanted to have someone on property at all times, and when we have coaches come in from out of town, they have a place.”

I watch as Fable’s lips curve up. “I told him to do that.” Her voice is beyond a whisper as she looks over at Kitty. “After I worked up in New York, where one of the rinks had a place for out-of-town coaches, I suggested he do that for our rink.”

Why does her saying “our rink” cause my body to vibrate?

Kitty threads her fingers with her granddaughter’s, love in her eyes. “Even though you weren’t here, you inspired a lot, my darling.”

Her words hit me right in the gut because I hadn’t realized that to be true. I remember when Phillip would come in or get off the phone and unload ideas on me. I thought he was a genius, but I should have known it was Fable.

Her brain never stops.

Before I can help myself, I say, “I can show you around.”

Fable inhales sharply before her eyes meet mine, her lips parting ever so slightly. “We can wait till Monday. I wanted to sit down and have a meeting too.”

I shrug, pushing off the table. “I’m not busy now. I can show you around, and then we can do business on Monday.”

All eyes fall on her, but her eyes stay locked with mine. “Are you really going to sit down with me, or would you rather throw a fit?”

Little sassy ass. I fight back the smile, crossing my arms over my chest. “I was caught off guard, just as you were.”

“Doesn’t mean your behavior was acceptable.”

I swallow, licking my lips. “Want an apology, ice princess?”

“No,” she says. “I want a chance to make something great. With you.”

With you.

Her words are like a pinball bouncing around in my head as I hold her gaze. I don’t think her something great and mine align, but fuck me sideways if I don’t wish they did.

Damn it, am I really thinking I want to ask for my something great?

What would she say if I just came clean and told her how badly I want her?

A lump forms in my throat as I nod, brushing my fingers along the hair on my jaw to keep from grinning at her like a fool. “I can make that happen.”

Fable doesn’t hide her excitement. It’s all over her face, her eyes bright and sparkling as she wiggles out of her chair. She grabs her beer before coming up beside me. She has her head tipped back, looking up at me, and I can’t help but take in every single one of her curves and wish like hell I could grab ahold of them.

Thankfully, before I do something stupid like that, she says, “Good. Then show me around, pretty boy.”

And just like that, I’m reminded how much I love being her pretty boy.