Hard as Ice: Heart's Ease, #2

A NOTE ON TIME

This book takes place during the same summer as

Play Me, Book Three in the Heart’s Ease series.

ONE

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Tink. Tink. Tink.

It was funny how such a little sound could ricochet off one’s head so that it felt more like a mallet walloping thunk thunk thunk.

Daphne Scott scrunched her face in agony as she tried to tune out the sound that had permeated her slumber. How much time had passed since she’d laid her head down on the sofa to rest a little in her drunken state?

Her atypical condition paired perfectly with the events that had led to it. After all, the marriage of her bold, big brother, Campbell Scott to petite and perfect Elsie Walsh was anything but typical. From their whirlwind engagement and wedding on the same day to the impromptu concert by superstar musician Asher Corbin for the entire community of Heart’s Ease, population two hundred and thirty-three (thirty-four if you now added Cam to the mix), the day was a combination of all things unexpected. Which was why she, a self-styled big city gal and socialite, wasn’t all that shocked to find herself in the middle of a drinking contest with not one, but four women she’d never met until sometime in the wee hours of the seemingly never-ending party that was the wedding reception.

Through the pounding of her head, she recalled with horror the way her increased drinking had made her Scottish accent thicker. Of course, the more her new-found lady friends drank, the harder their Newfoundland dialect was to understand. To an outsider the conversation must have been unintelligible. Suffice it to say there was a lot of boasting about drinking, nationalities, and men.

At one point in the evening Daphne’s mother, who had a strict three dram of Scotch limit, had tried to get her daughter to follow her up the stairs of the luxurious Heart’s Ease Inn and go to sleep, but Daphne had proclaimed with a waggling finger, I am thirty years old, Mum. You are not the boss of me. Her mother might have protested if her husband hadn’t led her away.

She didn’t think anyone had noticed when she’d accepted the invitation of Elsie’s third cousin Violet for the small group to head back to her house for a night cap. Two hours later, as the sun rose above the wide harbour of Heart’s Ease, Daphne’s last thought before she fell asleep on Violet Walsh’s sofa was that she could indeed drink more than the girls.

Tink. Tink. Tink.

Damn it. She was going to have to open her eyes and put an end to the infernal racket. The evil sun beaming through a nearby window was also conspiring against her slumber. She blinked a little to try to focus, while her head immediately began to violently protest the light.  She found the source of the noise in the kitchen, which was open to the living room. A Greek god was sitting at the table, stirring his cup of tea while looking at a tablet of some sort. It wasn’t the sort of thing she’d ever imagined Greek gods doing, but this one seemed to be quite relaxed.

She shifted on the sofa, aware that her dress had ridden well up past her knees. The god looked up.

Sorry. I tried to be quiet, he said. You looked pretty solidly asleep there, so I thought I could grab a bit of breakfast without waking you.

Daphne rubbed one hand over her eyes and down her face, trying to wake up.

What time is it, she said, shocked that her voice croaked. Just how much had she drunk the night before?

A little past ten. You want a cup of tea?

She stretched. No thanks. I better find my way back to the inn before my parents call in the troops.

You want a ride?

She felt like asking if he had a chariot pulled by Pegasus tucked out back, but figured he wouldn’t understand. This blond-haired, bluish-grey-eyed Adonis of a man looked as if he’d been chiseled on an urn somewhere.

I think the walk would do me good, she said, as she searched around for her coat and shoes. She couldn’t help notice that he was staring at her as she pulled on the four-inch heels. So what if she was five foot ten without shoes. She loved heels and didn’t care how tall they made her. They made her legs look good, and that was all that mattered.

You won’t be walking far in those this morning. There was nothing subtle about his slow survey of her body from toe to head. Or in that dress. He stood and grabbed a thick plaid jacket. It looked like something a lumberjack would wear. Not that she’d even seen a lumberjack, but she was a die-hard Monty Python fan.

She was about to demand why he thought her unable to walk when she looked outside. Snow covered the ground. She would swear that it hadn’t been snowing when she left the inn.

As he walked past her she realized he was taller than she’d initially thought. He towered over her. No one towered over her, not even Cam who was by all accounts pretty tall.

Watch your step, he said, heading outside. It might be a little slippery. He left the door open and disappeared from sight.

As Daphne reached the door she was assailed by the cold wind. The sun was shining, but the snow was dancing in little sweeping drifts as the wind blew. Her unidentified chauffeur was starting a large black pickup truck that looked as if it had seen better days. Her first step nearly landed her on her rear. Her saving grace was the door frame, which she just managed to grab.

Jesus, I’m sorry, he shouted as he got out of the truck. Don’t move. He hopped over the fence that separated the walkway from the parallel driveway. You alright?

She shivered, but whether it was from the cold or the thrill that shot through her arm when he touched her, she couldn’t be sure.

Those shoes are not Heart’s Ease friendly, he said as he ushered her to the truck. You women and your fancy shoes.

Well, it’s good that I’m not going to be here any longer than I must, isn’t it, she said, riled by his comment. She knew her voice was clipped.

Woah, lady. He raised his hands in the air. I come in peace. I was just saying—

I know exactly what you were saying. Men always think whatever a woman wants must be frivolous.

She waited for his response but he was silent. Instead he turned up the radio and backed out of the driveway.

Daphne felt like turning it down and saying more, but she didn’t have the wherewithal. She was tired, hungover, and now cold. There was no point getting into an argument with this man, regardless of how good looking he was. In fact, that was likely his problem. He wasn’t used to a woman talking back to him. Bet he was the sort that women just went along with because he was so damn delicious looking. Well, Daphne had known plenty of hot men in her life, and she’d never minced her words. She prided herself on speaking her mind and not bottling up her emotions. It was just a good mental health practice.

The drive from the house where she’d woken to the inn may have taken two minutes. If the town road hadn’t been covered in snow, she could have managed. The long driveway up the hill to the inn was clear of snow and the path to the door was immaculate.

Thanks, she said as got out of the truck.

No problem. Enjoy your shoes.

She stopped. Turned. Stared at him.

He had a wide grin on his face. And then he winked. See ya around, Mary.

My name is Daphne. Her hands were on her hips.

He leaned over to the passenger side and reached out to grab the door handle. God, his arms were long! Watch your step, Mary. And he closed the door.

——

That had been five months ago. Before she’d walked into the Heart’s Ease Inn worried she’d have to explain herself, only to find everyone still asleep. Before she’d lost her job when the publishing firm she’d worked her fingers to the nib for had folded. And definitely before she’d agreed to escort Elsie’s Aunt Ida home from her trip to Scotland.

Daphne frantically searched the area around gate seventeen at the Toronto airport, hoping against hope to see the tight grey curls of the world’s most wily nonagenarian. She’d foolishly thought there couldn’t be any mistaking the intent of a simple phrase such as Ida, stay here and don’t move. I’ll be back in five minutes.

To make matters worse, Daphne hadn’t even been gone five minutes. Three, tops. She’d learned her lesson about leaving Ida Walsh unsupervised in Heathrow. You wouldn’t think a nearly hundred-year-old woman could cause such a fuss with just a pair of eyebrow tweezers. And you’d think wrong. Two hours in an interrogation room with British officials and a missed flight later and Daphne had come to regret her decision.

When Elsie had asked if Daphne would mind flying back to Newfoundland with Ida, it had seemed like a great idea. She was told May in Newfoundland was beautiful, and although she’d seen Cam and Elsie a month ago when they’d flown over with Ida for a quick visit, she missed her brother. And if she were to be perfectly honest with herself, it wasn’t like there was anything holding her back in London or Glasgow. No, there was absolutely no reason not to go back to the beautiful little town of Heart’s Ease.

She scanned the crowd again, but there was still no sign of her charge. With a sigh, she heaved Ida’s insanely heavy carry-on bag—minus the offending set of tweezers—over her shoulder and headed in search of the woman.

In about five steps she just about tripped over her size ten heels. Not because she’d found Ida—which she had—but because of what Ida was doing. Or rather, with whom she was doing it.

The tiny woman was walking toward her holding hands with none other than a very familiar looking, blond-haired god. Daphne may have been hungover the last time she’d laid eyes on him, but it was hard to forget that face. Or body.

Daphne, there you are, my love, Ida said, dragging the man-beast along with her.

Ida, where did you go? She tried her best to focus her attention on the woman and not gape wide-mouthed at the man before her.

The old woman nearly cackled in glee. Look what I found, she said, patting the man’s hand.

Sweet God. Fate was cruel.

Before she could say anything at all—which was likely for the best because Daphne wasn’t sure what she could say at this point—he spoke.

Aunt Ida, I have to go. But I’ll see you on the plane, alright?

And without a by your leave, or how do you do, he walked away without a glance. Daphne tried not to feel slighted by such obvious disregard, but it stung a little. He clearly didn’t remember her.

She found herself sizing him up as he walked away. The difference between this man and the one she’d met that snowy morning was huge. Gone were the lumberjack coat, jeans and ball hat. Instead, he was snugly wrapped in a black suit, white shirt and black tie. Classic and simple, with no pretense. And full of arrogance, she decided.

Did you meet my great-nephew Jack during the wedding?

Um, at the wedding? I don’t think so. Daphne didn’t want to lie to the woman. But she also didn’t want to acknowledge that they’d met and he’d forgotten her.

He was probably hiding in a corner somewhere. He’s too shy for his own good. You’d think he’d be different, what with his big career and everything.

Big career? This wasn’t jiving with Daphne’s impression. Ida, however, wasn’t paying a whit of attention to her.

Jack’s a hockey player. Plays in the National Hockey League. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I looked up and saw him, so I had to go say hello. Oh my, he was some shocked to see me.

Not as shocked as I was to see him.

He’s single, you know, Ida said, wrapping her arm in Daphne’s and heading back towards their gate.

He’s a professional athlete, of course he’s single. I’ve known enough footballers in my day to know how that goes.

She bit her tongue so she didn’t insult Ida’s relative, but she also knew that being single didn’t really count for much with those guys. Daphne didn’t really do relationships, but she had perhaps a little too much experience in her past with doing inappropriate men.

Regardless, Ida gave Daphne a sharp look. Jack is a good Heart’s Ease boy. He was brought up proper. He had a girlfriend for quite some time. She was the one who left him.

Ida may have said it with conviction, but Daphne didn’t buy it. The girl likely fled because she’d had enough. Either way, Daphne had spent way too much energy thinking about the hockey god.

As they boarded the plane, she was surprised to find that Ida had been upgraded to first class. The three-hour flight from Toronto to St. John’s would be much more comfortable for her, and for the first time Daphne had a favourable thought about the Canadian airline. She still couldn’t understand how an airline could fly straight over one’s final destination, forcing their passengers to land some two thousand miles away before packing them on another plane and flying them right back again.

Ida tried to give Daphne the upgrade. Those long legs of yours could use the extra space, she’d said. But in the end, Daphne happily settled into her seat in the rear of the plane. She planned on sleeping her way back to Newfoundland. She kicked off her heels, and wiggled her toes. She adjusted her headrest and closed her eyes.

Not much room here for long legs, is there, Mary? The voice was deep and masculine with a rich Newfoundland lilt. Whatever warm fuzzies she’d started to feel when she heard that voice were extinguished when she heard him call her Mary.

My name is Daphne, she said. Although I’m surprised you remember me.

Mary suits you better. He shoved a small piece of luggage into the overhead bin and slid into the seat that should have been Ida’s. Realization dawned on her.

You gave Ida your seat, she mused.

If I hadn’t, my father would have smacked me up the side of the head. He shifted awkwardly, trying to fit his large frame into the small seat.

Still, that was very nice of you.

I’m nice all the time, Mary he said, a moment before the magic that was his smile took over.

It’s Daphne.

Mary. Queen of Scots. Defender of shoes. I might have my history a little mixed up there. He squirmed again in his seat, his legs more jammed than hers were. She could see his thigh muscles through his pants. And for the record, you’re pretty hard to forget.

She felt her face flush. She wanted to know why. Burned to ask the question. She normally would. But she just couldn’t seem to get the words out. All rational thought was gone. She wanted to hate him. She truly did. Although she couldn’t quite put her finger on why she felt that way. This was a new feeling for her.

Silence loomed between them. Another foreign concept. He casually pulled the safety card out of the pocket of the seat and started thumbing through it.

Her mind was blank. She couldn’t come up with one single word to say to him. Several times she felt her mouth open to fill the silence but she just couldn’t get a word out.

This is ridiculous! People tell me I talk too much!

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him if the safety card had anything interesting on it when a young boy popped over the headrest of the seat in front of Daphne.

Hey, are you Jack Walsh?

Daphne was surprised to see Jack blush. Yea. The smile he offered looked a little sheepish.

Told ya, the boy said to someone out of sight. Are you alright?

I’m okay, Jack replied.

Got any stitches?

A few.

Stitches? He was hurt?

Can I see?

Uh, I’d...

An arm reached up and tugged the boy down. A second later and he was back.

That was some smack you took. When are you going to play again?

I’m fine, Jack said. Just need to take a few weeks to rest up and I’ll be back.

Bet they lose every game without you. The boy was clearly a fan.

I hope not. I’d like to get back to the playoffs.

Right. Well, they won’t win as good then.

One autograph and a few more comments later and the flight attendant made the boy sit and prepare for departure.

Bet you wish you’d kept your first class seat now, she said.

Not at all. I love kids.

So you’re injured? Finally, a safe topic.

Just took a smack to the head. It’s nothing.

Daphne felt like the kid. She wanted to see.

You can’t see a thing. She scoured his head for signs of damage. You look perfect.

He blushed again. Thanks.

I mean, you’d never tell you’re hurt. I don’t mean you’re perfect. God. No one’s perfect. Might think you’re perfect, but you’re not. I mean, I don’t mean you think you’re perfect. I just mean some people might think you are.

Shut up shut up shut up!!!!!

She grabbed her purse and started rooting through it, desperate to look anywhere but at him.

Gum? She held out the pack she found in her purse.

Thanks.

She was never so relieved in her life to hear the safety message of a flight begin. She put on her headphones and looked out the window, hoping she could magically fall asleep and this flight would be over. She didn’t know Jack Walsh at all, but the effect he was having on her was akin to when she was a gangly teenager sitting next to the most popular boy at school. Before she became comfortable in her skin, and transformed from awkward girl to self-assured woman. This blast from the past was not comfortable.

TWO

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The woman was an ice queen, no two ways about it. He’d tried his best to talk to her, jumping far out of his comfort zone. And still nothing. It was too bad, because she was hot as hell. He’d thought so ever since he’d first spotted her stretched out on the sofa, her silky black dress caressing those long elegant legs. He’d had to do a double-take that morning because one look at the sleeping beauty and it was clear she wasn’t from anywhere near Heart’s Ease. When she’d opened that lush wide mouth and her Scottish accent had come out, he’d just about lost it.

Jack knew he was peculiar when it came to women. Growing up he’d just never been interested in the local girls. When he was a teenager he’d moved away to Ontario to go to high school and play in the Ontario Hockey League, a well-known breeding ground for professional hockey players. The girls there were much like the girls at home. Interested in him only because he had the potential to be a pro. And they all looked and dressed the same. If you saw one girl in a pair of tight jeans and tighter