Fresh Ice Page 10

  I can reinvent myself with her.

  They exchanged cell phone numbers the first weekend of the NHL season, when Quinn admitted that he had no emergency contact other than the radio station. It wasn’t something he liked admitting. In fact, he wasn’t even sure how she got that piece of information out of him.

  “What, there’s no one they call to sit by your hospital bed if you get hit in the face with a puck?” Her face was very serious, a rare expression for her.

  “Most of the time I sit in the booth way above the ice. Someone would have to be aiming for me, and firing a puck from a T-shirt cannon to get it up where I sit.”

  “Still,” she tore a check off her order pad and wrote her number on it. “Put this in your phone. That way, they can call me.”

  “You’ll sit by my hospital bed?” He immediately entered the number into his phone. “Even if I’m far away, like Vancouver or something?”

  “I’d have to update my passport, but sure. That’s what friends do.”

  He chose to ignore the part about being friends. “Well, I suppose you should have my number then, too.” He tried to be cool, but a surge of adrenalin rushed through him and his hand trembled as he wrote his number on a napkin. “In case you have any grit mishaps or something.”

  She pocketed the napkin and smiled. “You never know. Those college boys might come back.”

  “Not on my watch.”

  Her smile at his flip comment was angelic. “I believe you’re right. I believe I’m safe with you around.”

  While he hadn’t abused this new privilege of her phone number, Quinn had, in subsequent weeks, found little reasons to call her. He often used Vanderbilt’s volleyball schedule as an excuse, and as an excuse to see Izzy, who made as much time as she could to watch Jenna and Mikayla play.

  I didn’t watch this much college volleyball in college when I was trying to score.

  Isn’t that sort of how it is now?

  Quinn pictured Izzy, handing him a cup of coffee and a smile. No, this is completely different.

  Reaching his gate, Quinn set his traveling case down and looked around for Benny. It was his request that Benny work on the road this season. Benny’s loud personality covered Quinn’s own lack of interest in any conversation that wasn’t with or about Izzy.

  “Quinn! Over here man!” Benny waved to him.

  “Hey there, Benny. Bob. Sorry, I had to make a phone call and reception seemed spotty over here.”

  “What he means is that he had to call a lady friend and didn’t want us overhearing. Isn’t that right?” Benny nudged Quinn in the ribs.

  Like I’m going to admit to you that I call Izzy to ask her about Jenna’s volleyball games and what the flavor of the month is at the coffee shop just so I can talk to her for five minutes?

  “No Benny, you know he and the Boss Lady are exclusive. Nope, our friend here is getting older, slower, fatter.” Bob patted Quinn’s flat stomach. “Happens to the best of us, buddy.”

  “Now that you mention it, he has been coming in smelling less like a gym and more like a Waffle House.” Benny chuckled. “Here I thought finally getting on the road with Quinn Murray would mean the Benster would get some action. Just my luck, I’m on the road during his epic fast food phase.”

  Quinn joined in the laughter. “Benny, I swear, as long as you never call yourself the ‘Benster’ again, I will find you a woman.”

  Benny grew serious. “You’re not kidding? Really? You’ve got a woman for me?”

  The whole idea of picking up any woman for a one night stand, even for Benny, nauseated Quinn. Those days really are over. Quinn brushed his hair back and thought for a moment. “If I do, Benny, it won’t be a hook up. It’ll be something better.”

  Benny and Bob stared at him for a moment, and burst out laughing.

  “Oh that’s rich, Quinn. You, the world class womanizer, you’re going to bestow a grand romance on anyone, especially on Benny?” Bob laughed. “What on earth would you know about romance?”

  The image of Izzy, smiling at him in her Waffle House uniform, sprang to Quinn’s mind, and he smiled. Not much. But I’m learning.

  FOURTEEN

  Izzy poured what felt like her millionth cup of coffee of the night. An icy cold snap forced the area’s homeless indoors, and, by the looks of the packed booths, the shelters were full. She didn’t mind. Working nights for several weeks, Izzy realized she got a great sense of satisfaction in the simple things. A hot cup of coffee, a kind word, a pat on the back, these were the things that meant so much to people with so little. The realization made Izzy feel light in a way she hadn’t since her skating days.

  Not a lot in the way of money, true, but at least I feel like I’m contributing something.

  In spite of how busy she was, Izzy found herself thinking about Quinn. What started as a surprise meeting and a cup of coffee was now an easy friendship, one Izzy couldn’t picture living without.

  With Jenna and Mikayla so busy in school, and with Collier, who checked in by phone twice a week, on the road with his band all the time, Nashville was a lonely place for Izzy. Even though they really didn’t talk about anything serious, Izzy looked forward to seeing Quinn in his usual seat at the counter. In private moments, Izzy felt as if he was watching over her, like some self appointed guardian angel. And who wouldn’t want a ridiculously hot guardian angel?

  She valued this unexpected bond with the former hockey player. Sometimes she considered telling Quinn her whole story, but always thought the better of it. So many people look up to him and I’m the world’s big disappointment.

  Oddly enough, though the place was packed tonight, Quinn’s seat at the counter was empty. Waiting, like Izzy, for him to fill the space with his warmth.

  The door opened, letting some of the sharp air in. There was a general grumble from the assembled patrons, and Izzy quietly scolded the two men at the counter. “You don’t know who needs a warm spot tonight, so shush.”

  She set the coffee pot on the warmer and turned back to the counter. “What will it be? I’ll have fresh coffee in…Quinn!” She cheered, scooting around the end of the counter and hugging him. “When did you get home?”

  Quinn settled on the stool, his beautiful eyes tired, but smiling at her. “I dropped Benny at his place and came over here. I needed a cup of coffee from my favorite waitress.”

  “Well, give it a minute. I’ve got three fresh pots brewing.”

  “This place is packed. Are you alone here?” Quinn looked around and wrinkled his nose. “You’ve got some colorful folks in here tonight.”

  “One of the other girls couldn’t make it in, but I’m not alone, Carlo’s in back.” Izzy shrugged and picked up a coffee pot. “It’s cold out. Folks need a place to go.”

  “Yes, but,” Quinn eyed the man next to him with some disdain, “isn’t there a policy about loitering?”

  Izzy bit back a scolding retort. Quinn’s words were unkind, which surprised her. She knew not everyone shared her need to reach out to the rag tag group congregated around her. She was well aware, listening to Cat and others, that he did an enormous amount of charity work for children. There’s a good heart in there, don’t knock it if it doesn’t stretch to the homeless. “They’re nursing cups of coffee to avoid going outside. If that’s loitering, I know a few people with perfectly good homes who wouldn’t be able to kill a few hours in here.”

  She didn’t have to look over her shoulder to sense the surprised shame glowing in his eyes. Bending over a table to reach a cup, she smiled.

  ***

  Shell shocked from Izzy’s soft spoken reprimand, Quinn watched her move from table to table, the smile never leaving her face. I bet she doesn’t get five bucks in tips tonight. Which means, with the restaurant paying her $2.33 an hour, and taking their $3.00 from her for her dinner, she won’t make a dime after taxes for a long night of work.

  And she’s as happy as anyone I’ve ever seen.

  He drained his coffee, and w
atched her again. It’s so pure, and so simple, what she’s doing. I need to be part of something that pure.

  He hung his jacket on the wall hook. As Izzy passed by him, he caught her by the shoulder. “What can I do to help?”

  Izzy arched an eyebrow, a knowing smile on her lips. “I’m pretty sure we have a policy against civilians just helping out.”

  “Okay. I’m an ass. But I’m an ass who did time in diners in high school. Plus, I’ve eaten here so often in the past couple months, I have the menu memorized. So come on,” he held his arms open.

  “I won’t turn away help.” She handed him an apron. “Tend the counter, make sure the coffee is hot, and help Carlo if anyone orders food.” She looked past him to Carlo. “And Quinn?” She lowered her voice.

  “Yeah?” He bent down to hear her better.

  “Don’t write up any checks. Just tell Carlo the order. Got it?”

  Quinn nodded, more from shock than anything else. “Got it.”

  The Waffle House stayed packed all night. As the first light of dawn broke through the clouds and the weary guests started to shuffle outside, Izzy gave them each an order of fries and a cup of coffee to go. By the time the morning shift came to relieve them, Quinn felt like an official Waffle House employee, right down to the smell of fried food permeating his pours.

  He walked Izzy to her car. “You were good, tonight. Thanks.” She nudged his arm.

  Quinn scuffed his foot on the frosty pavement. “Call it penance for being a jerk.”

  “We can forget that. You did me a huge favor, staying. I owe you.”

  “I’m going to remember that,” Quinn leaned against her car and crossed his arms. “It’s not glamorous, what you do.”

  “And you’re back to being an ass.” She leaned next to him and grinned.

  “Let me finish. It’s not glamorous. But it’s important, isn’t it?”

  “Some wouldn’t think so.”

  Most wouldn’t think so. But those are the same people who think I’m worth a truckload of money. Quinn draped an arm around her, and gave her a quick hug. “Look, you’re beat, I’m beat. We both smell sort of funky. How about if I take you out for breakfast?”

  She leaned into his one armed hug. “I believe I’ll take you up on that. Got any place in mind?”

  “No offense to Waffle House, but I hear the Silver Screen offers up some decent bakery, and the dress code isn’t too tough.” Plus I’ll get a chance to spend more time in your world.

  “Okay. You’re on.” She climbed into her car and rolled down the window. “Hey Quinn?”

  He leaned on the car door. “Yeah?”

  “I really do owe you for tonight. Carlo and I would never have managed it by ourselves.”

  “That’s fine. I think I’ve got a way for you to pay me back.”

  “I’m intrigued. I’ll see you at the coffee shop.”

  Quinn watched her drive out of the parking lot before he got into his car. He stared at the Waffle House sign for a moment, the tiniest seed of an idea planting itself in his brain.

  ***

  Izzy waited for Quinn to park his car before walking into the coffee shop. The cold snap from the night before hadn’t stopped the Silver Screen faithful from their favorite Saturday morning breakfast spot.

  “Hey guys.” Cat greeted them with a smile, tray in hand. “Geez, you’re both a mess.”

  “Busy night. Quinn was a huge help.”

  “Whew! Is that you or did my coffee go bad?”

  Izzy rolled her eyes. “Okay, I get it. I stink.”

  Cat took a sniff near Quinn. “You’re not alone, Iz. Sorry, Quinn, but I have to ask, were you rolling in dead fish?”

  “Lots of street people came in because of the cold.” Quinn cast a wary glance at Izzy. “And I didn’t exactly smell like flowers when I got off the plane. But hey, counter duty is sweaty work.” He tried to grin, but Cat raised an eyebrow. “Okay, it’s my natural man-stink.”

  Cat broke down and laughed. “Okay, so not what I was expecting from Mr. Nashville Metro!”

  Izzy found Quinn’s blush charming.

  “I like being helpful more than smelling good all the time.”

  He’s definitely learning. I knew there was a good heart in there.

  “Well guys, I have a nice smelling bakery here, so you two can’t stay here smelling like that. Even if you are attractive,” Cat shot a lascivious grin at Quinn.

  “Yeah, we’re going upstairs to shower.” Izzy clapped her hands over her mouth and her face warmed. “I-I mean…” She tried to ignore Cat’s howls of laughter and the quirky smile on Quinn’s lips. “I mean, Quinn, if you’d like to clean up before breakfast, you’re welcome to use the bathroom in my apartment.”

  “Right. That’s exactly what she meant. And after you clean up I’ll bring you something delish as soon as I finish throwing baked goods at that group of idiots.” Cat nodded toward the group of college guys gathered around the TV, shouting at the screen. “Remind me never to agree to a Monty Python film fest on a Saturday morning. It brings out the strangest characters. Makes those ‘Rocky Horror’ drips look normal and productive.”

  “Sounds good. Don’t forget, decaf for me with ice.” Izzy took a step toward the stairs, her face still flaming. I’m an idiot.

  “Decaf for you, too, Quinn?”

  “No, I’ve got some stuff I have to attend to today.” If Quinn felt any discomfort, he didn’t show it. “I’ll grab my duffle out of the car. I’m pretty sure I still have something clean in there.”

  He ran outside. As soon as the screen door snapped closed, Cat set down her tray and put her hands on Izzy’s shoulders. “Tell me you have a clue what you’re doing.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I was afraid of that. Gads, you are so innocent.” Cat sighed and picked up her tray. “I wouldn’t mind climbing around on that tall playground, that’s for sure.” She wistfully gazed out the window. “Do me this one favor. Boxers or briefs. That’s all I want to know.”

  “Cat!” Izzy blushed again. “It’s not like that at all.”

  “Oh come on! You and he are going up to your apartment. There are only two things in your apartment; a bed and a shower.”

  “I’ve got more furniture than that now.”

  “Yes, but you are missing my point! You have a bed, and you have a shower, and you both are going to be naked at some point. Iz, I’m a lonely girl. My biggest thrill is when the delivery guy accidentally brushed my boob the other day. I’m not kidding. It’s so bad, I’m actually thinking of it as our first date. Just give me this one small crumb: boxers or briefs!”

  “Shush!” Izzy giggled. “It’s not like that at all.”

  “I bet you don’t even know he’s got it bad for you.”

  Izzy sobered. “What?”

  “Oh, you think he helped out all night at a Waffle House, serving coffee to the homeless because he’s a deep soul who can’t help giving back to the needy?”

  “Well he does a lot of…”

  “Oh stop!” Cat cuffed her upside her head. “Do not be that dense. There is one reason and one reason only that a guy as in demand as Quinn would allow himself to smell that foul; he wants to get into your shower, and I’m guessing that if you’re in there with him, he would not complain.”

  “I’m not listening to this.” Izzy held up a hand.

  “Fine. Fine. But if you don’t answer the door on the second knock, I’m going to just assume the best.” Cat grinned as Quinn returned, duffle bag in hand.

  “Whatever, Cat.” Izzy shook her head, hoping Quinn didn’t notice her blush. She lead him upstairs. Pausing at her door, she tried to remember if she’d cleaned up her apartment before leaving for work. Please, no underwear on the bed. No underwear on the bed. She opened the door. Oh good. I did manage to put the laundry away. I have to thank Jenna for forcing me to buy furniture. Dressers come in handy when trying to hide matronly undergarments.

  “So this is
home sweet home?”

  She set her purse on the table in the kitchenette. “It’s not huge, but it’s everything I need.” Her phone buzzed. “Hey, Quinn, it’s Jenna. I always talk to her after a shift. You wanna go first? Clean towels are in the closet.”

  Once she heard the hiss of water, Izzy dialed Jenna and tried to pretend there wasn’t a stunningly handsome man in her shower.

  ***

  Quinn dried off after his shower and studied the tiny bathroom. It was difficult for him to turn around without bumping into walls. There were no frilly towels or decorative soaps cluttering the shelves. There was little in the way of sprays, perfumes, and lotions. Everything was simple and tidy.

  I feel more comfortable here than at my own place. Even if I can practically touch both ends of the whole place by standing in the middle.

  Putting on his jeans was enough contortionism for him. Shirtless, he opened the door. “It’s all yours.” He set his duffle on the table and pulled out a pair of clean socks.

  Izzy ended her phone conversation and shook her head. “You didn’t have a shirt in your duffle?”

  Quinn studied her. She looked at the menu board downstairs with more enthusiasm. “Hey, don’t blame me. There isn’t room in there for me to put a shirt on.” Am I feeling unappreciated because she’s not falling into a pool of drool over my pecs?

  “Don’t get defensive.” She grabbed some clothes from the edge of her bed. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

  I’m ridiculous. He could not, however, deny the tiny flicker of relief he felt.

  His relief was short lived. She closed the bathroom door and the sounds of the shower didn’t drown out her giggles.

  “You don’t do much for a guy’s ego, you know,” he shouted at the bathroom door. Izzy’s giggles turned into full blown laughter.

  He pulled on his socks. He always loved the feel of clean socks after a shower. When he gave up drinking, he found smaller ways to make himself comfortable. Old jeans and new socks. Most comfortable things in life.

  Except for this apartment. A table, two chairs, two nightstands, a killer TV, and a big, soft bed. That’s all anyone really needs to be happy, as long as they have a life they like, right?