Page 10 of Ice Cold, Red Hot (Coldwater Firehawks Hockey #1)

SHEPHERD

There was one benefit to the confusion and sheer rage I felt whenever I thought about Celeste dating limpdick PhD Ethan: my game was intense.

I always brought it when I was on the ice—in practice and at games.

But now? I couldn’t stop thinking about the way she’d looked bent over the pool table, while talking to him.

Her perfect round ass in my face while she promised him another date…

it infuriated me. It turned me on. It made me want to go complete caveman and haul her out of there on my shoulder, lock her in my room and never let her out.

She was mine.

Only… she wasn’t.

And she couldn’t be.

But I was having a difficult time with reality.

So I funneled it into the game.

“Renshaw!” Coach’s voice cracked through the rink like a whip. I skated to the boards, chest heaving, adrenaline still riding me high. He didn’t even look up from his clipboard.

“You’re skating like you're being chased.” He finally glanced at me, brows lifted. “Everything okay?”

I shrugged, tugged at the collar of my jersey. “Yeah. Just dialed in.”

He squinted. “Dialed in’s good. But you’re two strides away from charging someone into next week just for breathing near the puck. Remember, we have an enforcer. And it’s not you.”

I didn’t answer, just met his stare. He waited.

After a beat, he nodded, the edge of his mouth twitching. “Whatever’s driving you right now, use it. Don’t let it use you.”

Coach let me off the leash during our away game at Essex, and I made them bleed for it.

I was faster than I’d ever been—tighter, meaner. Every shift, I hit the ice like it owed me something. Like I could take all the frustration boiling in my chest and carve it into the ice with my blades.

Two goals. One assist. A bone-rattling hit in the second period that got their captain pulled off the ice and the Essex crowd foaming at the mouth.

Coach called it my cleanest, dirtiest game of the season.

Reporters tried to talk to me afterward. My teammates patted my back and called me a monster.

I showered in silence, stared at my own reflection in the cracked mirror of a grimy locker room bathroom, and felt... nothing.

She was so deep in my head I couldn’t think of anything else, even then. The crowd roared, the bench exploded when I scored, but the one person I wanted to see it—wasn’t in the damn building.

And that did something to me.

Because I was winning.

And now that I’d met her? It didn’t feel like enough.

I didn’t go to section that week—I couldn’t take seeing her there. I knew I’d do something stupid, or say something stupid… and when Friday night rolled around, I made sure I was far away from the building at seven when I knew Ethan was due to pick her up for their date.

Griff, Burns, and Tucker went with me to the Burger Bunk and then we had a couple pints at MacDougals, but I was terrible company. Naturally, they were kind enough to point it out.

“Dude. You’re playing like you’ve got something to prove—in a good way, I mean. But you’re a huge pain in the ass off the ice. What the fuck?” Griff was shaking his head at me as I downed my second beer and ordered a third.

“It’s nothing.” I was finding it hard to look him in the eye.

“It’s her.” Griff didn’t ask. He knew, and that pissed me off even more. When I didn’t answer, but pounded half of the third pint, he stilled my hand, forcing me to look at him. “What is the deal with this girl? Why is this different?”

Could I tell him? Dudes didn’t really share the kinds of words that came to mind when I thought about Celeste. Soulmate. Meant to be. Mine .

“I met her this summer,” I finally said. “We spent some time together.”

Griff’s eyes grew wide as he processed this. He knew exactly what “spending time” meant in this context.

“And when she showed up here, you pretended not to know her. Interesting.” Griff sipped his own beer, looking exceptionally pleased with this new information.

“Quit smiling.”

“Sorry, I’m just processing.” He took another slow swallow and then faced me. “So why don’t you just take her out? Tell her how you feel?”

The frustration that had been eating a hole inside me grew hungrier, meaner. “She’s a TA in my department. I can’t touch her.”

Griff blew out a breath, dismissing this. “Rules are made to be broken.”

“No. They’re not. Not when your grandfather’s name is on the damned rink.

Not when your brother’s a fucking NHL legend.

Not when everyone’s expecting you to be next.

” It rushed out of me like I was mad at Griff, but he didn’t flinch.

And I wasn’t mad at him. I was mad at the circumstances.

And a little mad at myself for the way I was handling them.

“Sure those aren’t just the expectations you’re putting on yourself, man?”

“You’ve heard my dad on the phone.”

Griff’s eyebrows rose. “True. The guy’s pretty terrifying.” He signaled the bartender and pointed to a bag of chips behind the counter. As he opened them, he looked back up at me. “There’s gotta be a way around it. If it’s worth it. ”

I had no doubt it would be worth it. But I didn’t agree that rules didn’t matter.

Or that they could be bent. Not for me. Maybe for other people, but if I tried to bend rules, it would reek of privilege.

Of me taking advantage of the things I’d been given that others had to work for.

My whole life it was like I’d been trying to prove myself worthy of the Renshaw name. Or worthy despite it.

Still… I couldn’t take the constant churn eating me up. I had to do something.

“I gotta go,” I told Griff, throwing forty bucks on the bar. “See you at home.”

He was still asking questions as I walked away, headed up the hill to the apartment building.

I did my best not to think. I’d had just enough to drink that I could let the gentle buzz soothe some of the sharp edges of my concerns, and by the time I was in front of Celeste’s door, I felt almost calm.

I knocked.

Nat appeared. “Hey Ren, what’s up?”

This wasn’t the plan, and Nat answering the door—hair mussed and lipstick smeared—threw me off. I’d clearly interrupted something.

“Um. Celeste home? I had a question about the lab.”

Nat laughed. “At ten on a Friday night?” She shook her head. “Anyway, your ‘question’ will have to wait. She’s not here.”

“Oh.” I didn’t have any other words as it registered that Celeste was still out with Ethan. “Thanks.” I backed away from the door, and Nat pushed it shut with a giggle.

I stood in the hallway staring at the oatmeal paint peeling from the top edge of the apartment door .

The minutes ticked by.

I stayed.

I knew I should go inside and go to bed. I didn’t need any of this. I needed to focus.

I turned to my apartment, but I couldn’t make myself go through the door. Instead, I leaned against the wall next to it, my back supported by the cool wall, my arms crossed over my chest.

This was good. It was quiet. I could think.

A half-hour later, I was still there, and when I heard the hum of the elevator and the grind of the doors opening on our floor, every muscle inside me tensed.

Celeste walked toward me, a little smile playing on her lips as she looked down into her bag, removing her keys. When she looked up, caught sight of me, the smile dropped. “Seriously?”

I pushed off the wall, stepped in front of her. It was like my body was following commands from some part of my brain I didn’t fully control. “How was it?” I heard the sneer in my voice, wished I could wipe it away.

“None of your business,” she hissed, pushing past me to unlock her door.

I got in her space again, leaning in close enough to smell the sweet floral scent of her mixed with a hint of wine. “Did he kiss you?”

Suddenly her eyes were on mine—dark, angry. “Why do you even care?”

Fuck. I didn’t. I couldn’t care. I needed to walk away. “I don’t care.”

Celeste made a scoffing noise in the back of her throat. She didn’t believe me either. “Then go away, Shepherd.” She pushed past me into her apartment, and I followed her in, glancing around to make sure Nat wasn’t in the living room.

Celeste dumped her bag onto the round table near the window and then looked up, realizing I was standing there immobile in the center of the living room.

“You don’t get to do this,” she said, her voice lowering and the vaguest hint of … what? Defeat? Exhaustion creeping in.

I moved closer, desperate to be near her, to keep her close to me, even if it was just to fight. She was inches away. “Do what?”

“This.” Her voice shook. “You don’t want me, but you don’t want me with anyone else either. It’s not fair.”

I blew out a breath. Almost a laugh. “You think I don’t want you?”

Celeste’s chin lifted as she looked me in the eye. “You ghosted me.”

My voice was practically a growl. “I had to.”

“No. You chose to.” She said this like the words broke her heart, and took a step back, turning away.

I reached for her, grabbed her wrist. Again.

She froze.

This time I didn’t pull her to me. I didn’t hold her wrist like it was something I owned, something I could break. I held it like it was the most delicate and beautiful thing in the world.

Because it was.

Because she was.

It was as if neither of us breathed .

Silence spread out like a living thing between us, crouching, waiting.

My voice was hoarse when I said, “Say you don’t want me.”

I could feel her pulse hammering beneath my fingers. I waited.

“Say it.”

Celeste didn’t speak, but she didn’t pull away, either. I took a step closer, leaning down to let my bottom lip brush the shell of her ear. A ragged breath ripped from her throat.

“That’s what I thought,” I said.

She moved so suddenly I had to steady myself as her lips crashed into mine, her arms wrapping around my neck, and her body crushed hard against me.

All my defenses crumbled, all the reasons why I couldn’t touch her, couldn’t have her scattered like ashes as Celeste’s hands pushed up under my shirt, skimmed the skin of my back like fire.

I held her to me like a prized possession I was terrified to lose, like a dying man clutching his one chance at life. Our tongues fought a battle, pushing and circling, our lips and teeth clashing for dominance as our breaths came hot and furious.

My hand slipped down to cup Celeste’s ass, and I groaned at the perfect way it filled my palm as her leg lifted, wrapping mine. I dropped my mouth to her jaw, biting, tasting, kissing every bit of her skin from the curve of her mouth to her clavicle. When she moaned softly, I almost lost it.

I’d been imagining her since the first time I’d met her, reliving every breath, every touch since the first time I’d been lucky enough to have her in my bed. And now? Having her again? Being this close to her, every part of her saying “yes” to me? I was struggling for control.

“Bedroom,” she whispered, making not a single move to break away from my vise grip on her body. I complied, lifting her and holding her against me as I turned us to the door across the living room. Her legs wrapped my waist, and I could feel the heat of her against my stomach.

Inside her room, I shut the door with my foot and then leaned back against it as Celeste kissed me like I was the only man she’d ever dreamed of.