Find Me on the Ice: Hockey Romance (Nighthawks Book 2)

Take a deep breath, Nikki.

I can’t believe that I almost ghosted this date. I know the risks are insane, too high. But don’t I deserve at least one night out a year to just be? Don’t get me wrong; the ever-living fear still beats with every thump of my heart.

But I should be able to have time like this for myself once in a blue moon. And every other day of the year, I will live under my usual rock.

I honestly had no expectations for this date, other than the undeniable sexual tension and little touches. So, I thought that was how this entire night would go.

By the way he’s dressed and how incredible he looks, I can’t say I would’ve been too disappointed if the only conversations we had lacked any depth.

When I walked in and saw him, I almost fainted, knowing that he was who I was meeting. He looked like he was heading to a cover shoot for GQ. He’s wearing a black button-down with his cuffs rolled, exposing the black ink on his arms. His shirt is tucked into black slacks that hug every inch of him.

What shocked me the most? His honesty. He could have sat here all night, using every move in his book. But instead, he wants to play a game of truth or lie, and he has come across really genuine. But then again, maybe my judgment isn’t very accurate.

I knew my latest one would push him over the edge, and I would be lying if I said that watching him adjust in his seat, knowing he was hard because of me, didn’t feel so fucking powerful.

What else is enjoyable? Watching him try to get rid of the waiter as fast as he can.

“I hope you enjoy—”

Cam cuts him off, “Thank you very much. We will let you know if we need anything.” He shoots a quick smile his way, and then his attention finds me once again.

The waiter smiles and nods to us, then walks away without another word. I’m glad he didn’t take Cam’s shortness as being rude to him. He genuinely seemed fine when he left.

I totally judge people by how they treat anyone in the service industry. But I know that this probably isn’t Cam’s usual predicament when dealing with waitstaff. At least, I hope it’s not.

His eyes are darker than I have seen them. And I can feel the desire in his stare dance over every inch of my body that he can see above the table.

But as fun as this back-and-forth is, he is one hundred percent losing my attention to this eggplant Parmesan that was just placed in front of me.

“This looks incredible,” I say as I pick my fork and knife up, readying myself to dive in.

Taking the first bite, I start to think that the people in love with inanimate objects on that one crazy addiction show maybe aren’t that crazy after all. Because this is the most delicious bite of food I have ever tasted.

“Mmm,” I close my eyes and moan before I swallow, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

When my eyes open, Cam is looking at me with the sweetest, most endearing stare.

“What?” I say with the biggest smile on my face.

“Nothing. I just wish you’d look at me the way you do that eggplant Parm.” He chuckles.

Why is that the greatest pickup line that I have ever heard?

“Because only food that tastes this good deserves that look. Sorry, Cameron,” I say sarcastically.

“How do you know I don’t taste that good?” He smirks. “You haven’t even tried.”

The bite I just swallowed catches in my throat at his words. And now, I’m coughing like an idiot, and he is beaming like he won the damn lottery.

“Are you okay over there?” he asks mockingly. “Maybe you need mouth-to-mouth? I will totally volunteer,” he says so much louder than I would like. He smiles, then takes a sip of his water.

I almost hate how much fun I am having, how easy and natural this feels. I hate that this is going to have to end. But I will enjoy it until then.

“Do you want to be covered in red sauce in five seconds?” I raise my eyebrows.

“You embarrassed, Little Dove?” Cam asks as he takes another bite of his ravioli.

“Shut up and eat your damn pasta.” I motion to his bowl with my fork.

With his eyebrows raised, he points to his mouth that is currently chewing.

“Yeah, well, just keep doing that.” I can’t help the laugh that breaks my character.

We continue to eat and make smart-ass comments to one another, and before I know it, two hours have passed, our dishes have been cleared, and the restaurant is emptying out.

Cam pays for our meal, which I certainly wasn’t waiting around for him to do. But the second the bill was brought, he handed the waiter his Black Card without even looking at the ticket.

This is what I have learned so far about Cam Costello.

His star sign is Cancer, and his birthdate is July 1.

He has so much more to him than what meets the eye. It’s in the little things he probably doesn’t even realize he’s revealing.

When he mentioned his family, I noticed he avoided talking about his dad. And the one time that he did, his fist was clenched on the table—probably an involuntary reaction.

He spoke of his mom with such kindness and respect that I wanted to cry. And when he told me that she had passed away, I reached across the table and held his hand while he continued to share about her. I also noticed he never mentioned how she had died. But that she was cremated and he has her ashes in an urn at his house so that she can always be with him.

He loves hockey more than anything—that is clear as day with how his eyes and face light up at the mention of ice or a puck. I could honestly listen to him talk about hockey all day long, and I barely understood a single thing he described. He lives with one of his teammates and is practically on the ice all day, every day.

His open communication is probably what shocks me the most. But the haunting look that I have caught in his eyes time and time again is a close second. It felt familiar as soon as I saw it.

I want to know what caused it, who caused it. But I also know it’s none of my damn business unless he wants to tell me.

The walls around my mind and heart are shifting, crumbling, and being rebuilt, all at once. It’s fucking aggravating. I want to just go on a date that is this incredible and pursue it. I want to be able to do whatever the fuck I want. But most of all, I want to be able to tell the truth.

I want to be able to introduce myself with my real name, tell people about my real past, my parents, my life, me. But instead, as Cam opens up about his life, I feed him lies, born from twisted truths. And that feels like a sucker punch to the gut.

In the bits of myself that I did reveal, woven perfectly in the untruths, it felt refreshing. It was one of the first real conversations I’d had in a long time. Well, with someone other than Chloe. I love her and am so thankful for her, but I needed this.

On top of learning about some of the big things in his life, I learned little things. His favorite color is blue. His comfort movie is Thor: Ragnarok. His favorite TV show right now is Stranger Things.

He has a soft spot for kids. He spoke of Laura and Alec’s son, Jack, like he was the proudest uncle in the world.

He enjoys reading, although he doesn’t get to do it much with his schedule. I would like to see how many hours he spends scrolling on social media. Probably enough time to read a book a week, I bet.

Everything I have learned about him makes me hate that this inevitably has to come to an end. I could talk to him forever. But he also informed me that they will leave tomorrow morning. It’s for the best. For him and for me.

I work in the morning. And it’s already after ten, and I still have a full face of makeup to clean and to do my routine for bed.

“I should get going soon. I’ve gotta be up at five tomorrow,” I say, trying to hide any sadness in my voice that this is coming to a close.

The second I say that, the energy shifts. All happiness seems to drain from us.

“Yeah. I have to leave early tomorrow with Alec, Laura, and Jack. We have to return the rental and fly back, and then I have practice tomorrow night. I should try to get some sleep,” he says, but doesn’t make a move to leave.

Which means I get to be the bad guy.

I scoot my chair out and quickly text Chloe to come get me. She only lives about two blocks over, so it shouldn’t take her long.

Cam joins me at my side, handing me my roses, which I immediately take a deep inhale of. That is one of the greatest smells on earth. With each step we take towards the door, my like for Cam grows, as well as the desire to never leave this date.

“Thank you for the roses, for dinner, for one of the best nights that I’ve had in a long time,” I say honestly.

He opens the door for me, and I step outside, instantly scanning the surroundings for anything suspicious. All while also looking for Chloe’s car, which is nowhere in sight. I quickly check my phone—no new messages. I’m trying not to have a damn anxiety attack at the thought that I’m going to have to walk the two blocks to Chloe’s house.

Cam turns, somehow noticing my shift in mood. “Is everything okay?”

I scan the street once more, hoping that I’ll spot her Porsche any second. But I don’t see her anywhere.

I keep my voice even and calm. “Oh, Chloe is probably just running a few minutes late. Don’t worry.”

Without a second of hesitation, he says, “I’m going to worry. And there’s no way in hell that I’m leaving you out here with no ride home, Little Dove. I’m waiting with you.”

I smile up at him as heavy silence falls on us, and questions flutter through my mind. What happens now? Who should start this conversation? Who should end it?

I incessantly check my phone over the next minute or so as we wait for Chloe to show up, but she hasn’t texted back or called.

Shit. She probably fell asleep. She was supposed to pick me up at nine thirty, and now, it’s almost eleven.

“Just let me give you a ride. It’s getting chilly, and not to sound like a total dad, but I would blame myself if you got sick from this when my car is nice and warm,” Cam says with that impeccably smooth tone.

My heart is fucking melting, but I’m much too aware of the reality of our situation to become a puddle at his feet.

“That’s sweet, Cameron, but I’m sure she’ll be here soon,” I say as my chest feels tighter than usual.

He rocks back and forth a few times before saying, “How long are we going to wait out here before you stop being so stubborn and let me drive you?”

I playfully glare at him. “I am not that stubborn.”

“I’m sorry, did you not discuss your stubbornness when we were talking about star signs earlier, you little Taurus?” He smirks.

My chest flutters at the details he remembers from that conversation. I’m about to say some smart-ass remark back, but it really is starting to get cold, and Chloe has yet to respond.

“Where’d you park?”

He laughs and points to a black Nissan Altima that Laura has rented while she is here. She was happy to hand the keys over to Cam for this date. Something she usually doesn’t support so blatantly, he told me. I guess I’m just special that way.

I step off of the curb, leading the way, and say, “Don’t think for one second that you’re getting invited inside, by the way.” I bite my cheek to control the laugh and smile trying to break free.

He throws his hand on his chest, seemingly pained at my comment. “I’m a virgin, I’ll have you know. I’m saving myself for marriage.”

This time, the laugh bellows out of me. “Ha! If you’re a virgin, then I’m the fucking Pope.”

“I’m pretty sure the Pope isn’t supposed to say fucking,” he says jokingly.

“Yeah, well, you’re definitely not a virgin, so I can say whatever I want,” I say smugly as he opens the passenger door for me.

I go to sit in the car, but he grabs my waist before I can. He pulls me back against his chest with my ass pressed firmly against him. And, dear mother of God, does my body respond to his touch.

Pressing his warm lips against my ear, he whispers, “Oh, Little Dove, I am the furthest thing there is from a virgin.”

He takes a breath. When the hot air hits my skin and his fingers tighten on my waist, my breath quickens as I anticipate his next move or word.

He runs the tip of his tongue up the shell of my ear, and warm shivers run down my neck.

“One day, Nikki, I want to show you the stars, the ones that only exist in the darkness of your closed eyes, that only form because of how good I make you feel.”

Hearing my name, even my fake one, coming from his lips feels like being bathed in sunlight.

“With every flick of my tongue”—he sucks on my earlobe—“across every single inch of your skin, I want to watch you completely unravel from my touch.”

Pushing back into him, I feel exactly how much he is enjoying this and how much he would enjoy everything he is promising.

He slowly releases my waist without a word and walks around to the driver’s door with a smile stretched on his lips.

We each slide into our seats before I say, “As much as I want that and would love that, you live in New York, and I live here, Cameron. Anything romantic or sexual would just end in pain. And I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime.”

I point to go straight, and he puts the car in drive, taking off.

I pause for a moment before smirking and saying, “But it’s a nice thought. I will certainly revisit that moment in the future—probably under my sheets at night,” I say, blatantly showing my intentions.

Cam rolls his eyes and licks his lips. “Nikki, you cannot friend-zone me and tell me you are going to get yourself off while thinking of me in the same sentence.”

I hold my finger up. “Technically, it wasn’t the same sentence.” I purse my lips, stifling bubbling laughter.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head for a second before glancing at me, waiting for directions.

“Take a left up here. I’m going to my shop.”

He glances at the clock on the display. “This late?”

Wondering how much I should reveal, I think that this might be one whole truth that I can give him tonight. “I live in a loft in the back of the building. A one-stop shop for me.” I laugh.

He smiles softly and chuckles.

When he pulls onto my street, I can see the shop about two blocks down. My heart sinks, as I know this will end in mere seconds.

Cam pulls up next to my shop and puts the car in park, looking at me sheepishly. “Um, so this is very foreign territory for me, but how serious is that friend zone?”

I smile at him, but it almost immediately turns to a frown. “Cameron, we would never see each other. And our lives look quite different. You being here is like stepping out of your life and coming into mine. But I don’t think that transition would be quite so smooth the other way around.”

He won’t meet my eyes and is staring at the floor with an empty look. The pain that erupts in my chest is so very unexpected. I know he’s cute and kind and a lot of other amazing things. But nothing could have prepared me for the locked-up feelings that are breaking free from their cage tonight.

I continue before he can interrupt, “I like my life here. It’s quiet, peaceful.” I’m going to hate myself for saying this because it is such a dick thing to say. “Even though we have lines we can’t cross, I don’t want you out of my life completely—”

He cuts me off, looking at me with such ferocious passion in his eyes, “Nikki, please don’t use the phrase that we can still be friends—unless friends to you means kissing, cuddling, watching late-night movies, and having sex … lots of sex. I will be your friend, Little Dove, but you will be more to me.”

I want to say so much right now. I want to say, Fuck Trey; let him find me, and take the risk. I want to let myself have one goddamn good thing in my life for once. I want so much in life that I can’t have, and I don’t know that I ever will be able to have them.

But instead, I reach across the console, grab his face in my hands, pull him over to me, and kiss his cheek, holding it for longer than I probably should. “Thank you for everything, Cam.” I offer the best smile I can, although I know it resembles more of a frown.

His eyes light up for only a second. “You called me Cam.”

I have to leave before I do anything reckless. “Good night, Cam. I hope you have a safe flight.”

As I close the door, I smile genuinely for the moments we did share. Ones that I will certainly cherish.