Free Melting Ice by Jami Davenport Page A

He’d screwed Cooper Black’s soon-to-be sister-in-law, and now he was screwed . As soon as Black found out, Isaac would either be sent out of town or his lifeless body would be dumped in the woods somewhere, never to be found again, and he deserved it. His last chance to play pro hockey shot down because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. He was an absolute idiot.
    Maybe he could convince Avery it would be in their best interests not to tell anyone. It was probably already too late. Women loved to talk, and didn’t twins share everything?
    Isaac put his head down and pretended to be studying his blades.
    “Hey, he means well. It’s all about the team to him.” Blake Daniels sat down on the bench next to Isaac’s since their lockers were adjacent to each other. Blake didn’t talk much either, and Isaac appreciated that. He sensed a kindred spirt in the quiet man, who’d been with as many NHL teams this year as Isaac had, but for very different reasons. Blake was at the end of his career while Isaac was still in his athletic prime.
    Blake had joined the team yesterday after another injury left an immediate need for an experienced defenseman. Isaac glanced over at the man as he took off his shirt and hung it in his locker. On his arm was a tattoo of a broken heart surrounded by several names. Isaac frowned, as he remembered something about a plane crash that wiped out Daniels’s entire family a few years ago. Rumors said the guy had never recovered, and his game had suffered, but how did a guy recover from something like that? Isaac hadn’t recovered, and he hadn’t lost his entire family, not like that, even though essentially they were dead to him.
    Blake caught him staring and held out a hand. Isaac shook it. “I guess we’re the new guys.”
    “Yeah.” Isaac didn’t encourage conversation. He didn’t need friends. He didn’t need anyone. Besides he was a crappy friend so for their sakes he kept his distance. Blake seemed like a good guy. He didn’t deserve to be associated with a guy like Isaac.
    Isaac looked up as Coach moved to the center of the room and gave a pre-game speech quite unlike any Isaac had ever heard before. The guy actually told them to go out there and have fun, play their hearts out, and leave it all on the ice. You’d think they were playing for the Cup. Coach Gorst treated every game like a championship game, and his players ate it up. It was weird and juvenile, but Isaac kept his cynical thoughts to himself.
    Being an ass wouldn’t earn him any points with the coach or the team. He’d proven that time and time again.
    After Gorst talked, Cooper gave an equally rousing speech, and the guys hustled from the room shouting and yelling. Isaac hung back as did Blake. Blake arched a brow at him and pointed toward the door.
    “Let’s go,” he said.
    “Yeah, let’s go.”
    Isaac heard the cheers of the crowd as he walked through the tunnel, and adrenaline surged through his veins. He stepped onto the ice and did a few easy circles, getting used to the feel of his new arena’s home ice. As the guys paired up to do some stick drills, Blake joined him as if it were expected that the new guys would pair up.
    Isaac played a decent game with two assists, a block, and three hits, not to mention a stint in the penalty box for high-sticking. All in all, a good night. The team won, not that Isaac paid much attention to team wins and losses, unless they were in the playoffs. He just played his game and competed against himself and the high standards he’d set.
    After the game, he growled at the press, chasing them off with his one-syllable surly answers. He hated interviews, not giving a damn what the league said. It’d been one of many sore spots with his former teams. When Coach approached him, he expected to be lectured on fostering good relations with the media; instead he was pleasantly surprised.
    “When I said we want our players to be individuals, I meant it, Wolfe,” Coach