It Had to Be You (Christiansen Family) (16 page)

He wiped his hands on his pants. “I get it. Not the best night for driving.” Indeed, they’d already spied a car in the ditch, the tracks spinning off the highway. He should be grateful she kept it below the speed limit, especially in a powerful machine like the Charger. But between the cold shoulder and the iron grip on the steering wheel, he was feeling a little helpless here.

As if, inexplicably, he’d been benched. He was used to controlling the game, the situation, the conversation. The relationship. But he couldn’t even figure out what game they might be playing, let alone finagle his way back into it. Eden hadn’t spoken a word for twenty miles after they’d picked up hot cocoa at a McDonald’s in Hinckley. The gal at the counter turned out to be a hockey fan and gave him a free drink.

Eden had nearly sprinted to the car as if wanting to leave him behind. Weird.

He could only conclude that, the farther they drove into the night, the more she wanted to turn this ship around.

Maybe it was his fault. Maybe she thought he wanted more out of this weekend than . . .

And then he got it. He’d returned home late from practice, shaved in the crazy hope that he might make a good impression on . . . whom? Her parents? He didn’t know really, but he’d just climbed out of the shower when he got the call from the doorman. Eden, right on schedule, and he’d barely had time to pull on a pair of sweatpants before she got to the door. At least he hadn’t answered in a towel.

He had no doubt he’d be channel surfing in his high-rise if he’d pulled that stunt.

So he’d answered the door half-clothed. Which sent an inadvertent message, apparently. What could he possibly say to fix it?
Eden, don’t read anything into that. I’m not interested in you.
Like that wouldn’t put a chill into their weekend?

Worse, he’d be lying.

He glanced at her. She still wore her parka, her hat, and even her mittens as she hunched forward. Only the glow of the radio and dash lit her face. And such a pretty face, even in profile
 
—that elegant nose, those high cheekbones, too-alluring lips, now pursed in concentration. Her blonde ponytail hung over her jacket, and he had the strangest urge to run his fingers through it.

It wasn’t the first time, either. The moment he’d opened the door, seen her standing there in her faded jeans, the open parka, a hoodie, he’d backtracked in time to his youth, his heart beating at the sight of a cute girl waiting for him after practice.

But not any girl.

Eden Christiansen,
the
girl. The one he’d spent way too much time thinking about over the past week: the way she smelled, sweet and floral, and her laughter, easy and full, finding his chest. The sight of her standing at his door had filled his throat and tasted like a tight and sharp shot on goal.

Like victory.

He’d had to right himself, make a dash out of the room before he did something stupid, like pull her into his arms.

But what if she’d seen it
 
—the desire pooling in his eyes? What if she figured out that she’d somehow gotten inside his skin and that he longed for this weekend more than he had a right to?

“I’m sorry, Eden. I’m just . . . I need air.” He cracked the window, and she glanced at him.

“Oh, Jace. I’m so sorry.”

“No
 
—it’s okay
 
—I . . .” He reached up, pulled his shirt away from his skin.

She turned down the heat. “I guess it is hot in here.” She smiled at him before gluing her eyes back to the road.

Yes. Hot. Very hot.

And now he couldn’t take his eyes off her, the way she watched the road, their lives in her hands. Solemn. Dedicated.

Eden Christiansen was everything he wanted to be, and she’d invited him into her world.

No wonder he couldn’t breathe. He hadn’t been this nervous since that first game. The game when he’d cemented his rep with the NHL. With the fans.

The game that destroyed one career and made another.

He refused to destroy this weekend. He had to get his head in the game. Figure out how to get out of this funk and back to that easy place with her, where he didn’t feel like he had to prove anything. He could just be himself.

“Nice of Owen to let you drive his car,” he said.

“He wasn’t happy, but he can’t drive with his eye, so . . .” She lifted a shoulder.

“I was thinking . . . he might not be so happy to see me.”

“Why not?”

Because Jace might be a reminder of everything he’d lost? And because last night Jace had managed another great game, with a goal and one assist.

Today he made the front page of the sports section. Owen’s spot.

Yes, everything about this weekend suddenly screamed
colossally bad idea
.

He should get out at the next rest area, call a taxi, and head back to his chilly apartment in St. Paul. Spend the weekend watching
extreme sports, maybe go over to the hospital and share Sam’s vigil. Shoot the puck around, kill a few hours in the weight room. Get back into the world he knew.

Jace let out a breath. Slowly. Deliberately. He was blowing the importance of this weekend way out of proportion. It wasn’t the Stanley Cup, for crying out loud.

“It’s my driving, isn’t it?”

“What are you talking about?”

She made a face. “You’re so . . . Well, I don’t blame you. I was in a car accident when I was sixteen. Was going too fast around a curve and hit a tree. I was fine, but it spooked me. I wasn’t comfortable driving for about six months after that. I still don’t like driving in the snow.”

He still didn’t
 
—

“It’ll be better north of Duluth. The lake always tames the storm. I promise to keep it on the road.”

Oh. She thought he was tense because of his accident. “I trust you, Eden. I know I’m in good hands.”

Funny
 
—he meant those words.

She seemed to relax. “I used to love driving home late at night. I’d come home from college and pull up around midnight, and my parents would be waiting for me in the kitchen with hot cocoa or maybe a cold lemonade.”

He could see it, Eden as a coed, looking very much like she did now, free of her austere newspaper attire.

“Casper, my younger brother, would usually wake me up early, make me go swimming or snowshoeing or on some kind of adventure with him. Owen would be coming in from practice by the time we got back
 
—he always had early morning ice times. We’d
all sit around the table while Mom and Grace cooked us waffles. Sometimes Darek would come over and we’d fight over Tiger.”

“Tiger?”

“His son
 
—he’s six now. Has us all wrapped around his little finger.”

“I just love your family.”

Had he said that out loud? He had, because she stiffened, glanced at him. “I mean
 
—it sounds like a family I’d love.”

Not much better, but
 
—

“I think they’ll love you too, Jace.”

Oh.

His chest tightened and he leaned his head against the window, trying not to physically gulp in the cool air.

Then, from Eden: “I . . . I am worried that people will be weird around you.”

Huh?

She was watching the road. “I mean, around us. Or . . . like, if we hang out in town. They’ll look at you and think . . . well, that we’re dating or something. I hadn’t really thought about it . . . but . . .”

Ah. No
wonder
she had turned cold and tight-lipped. He hadn’t thought about the fact that they might attract attention. “Do you often bring home guys
 
—?”

“No!”

“I didn’t mean it that way. Okay, fine, so I appear in town with you. Why would they think that we’re dating?”

She swallowed. “You’re right. Of course. Why would you be dating a girl like me?”

A girl like . . . ? “Eden, c’mon, don’t take it that way. Of course
I would date a girl like you
 
—” Oh, what was his problem that around her he hadn’t a lick of charm? “We could date . . .”

Now he
did
want to throw himself from the car. He nearly grabbed the handle. “I just really enjoy your friendship. I’ve never had a friend who is a girl and . . .”

He had turned into a fumbling high school kid trying to get the girl to like him. Except he couldn’t woo her with a few flimsy, slick words and recline the seats. Not Eden.

And he wasn’t that guy anymore, anyway. Which made this matter.
Put on your game face, J-Hammer.

“I think you tell them that we’re friends. Right? We are friends? Besides, it’s not like we’re going to draw any headlines. Who’s going to find us in Deep Haven?”

She must’ve seen the deer the same time he did because his foot slammed into the floorboards just as she jumped. But she didn’t hit the brake
 
—just let the animal clear the far side of the road.

“That was clo
 
—”

She sucked in her breath, and he glanced to the near side
 
—their lane.

The lights illuminated a second deer creeping out onto the pavement.

No.

“Hold on!”

Then she gunned it. And screamed. The sound reverberated through him as they surged forward.

The deer jumped into the middle of the lane. Eden kept screaming as she jerked the wheel to the left.

Jace had nothing
 
—no breath, no words, no heartbeat
 
—as they skimmed by the animal.

He thought he saw deer breath on the window.

And then, just like that, Eden righted the car into the lane.

Stopped screaming.

For a long moment they simply drove in silence. He pressed a hand over his heart, making sure it restarted.

Finally she tapped the brakes. Slowed to a stop on the side of the road.

They sat there, Jace wondering if his pulse might be audible. Then, slowly, she put out her hand, tucking it in his. The other she used to cover her mouth, as if reliving the moment.

He found his voice, lodged somewhere in his ribs. “Good job, Danica. You’ve earned pole position.”

She hiccuped a moment, then looked at him and . . . laughed. It bubbled out past her hand, delicious and robust and churning free of the horror of what could have been.

He couldn’t help but fall into the moment
 
—her sweet, ebullient laughter, the adrenaline rushing out of him as he huddled over, laughing, letting go.

She finally met his eyes, hers glistening. “Sorry. I just saw the deer, and when it looked at me, I thought,
No, this is not a good day to die. For either of us.
I knew if I hit the brakes, we’d spin out, so
 
—”

“So you gunned it.”

“And screamed.”

“And screamed. I think they heard you down in Tampa. You sure know how to throw a little excitement into a weekend.”

She smiled at him, and it unwound all the knots inside.

“Yeah. Maybe this weekend won’t be as normal as I promised. But I will give it my best effort not to kill you.”

“My team would appreciate that. Besides, maybe normal is totally overrated. How about we have fun?”

He leaned the side of his head against the seat and sighed, the tight knot gone from his chest. The cool air had tempered the heat in the car.

“We are friends, aren’t we?” Eden said.

He gave her a soft smile. “I think so. I hope so. I . . . want to be your friend.”

The heat flooded back into the car. Or maybe just into Jace. He hadn’t felt this naked since they took shirtless shots of him for the entire world to see on the pages of
Hockey Today
.

Her smile faded as she caught his gaze, and for a long, almost-unbearable moment, he nearly put his hand to her face, nearly wiped away the laugh tear tracing down her cheek. Nearly pressed his lips to hers.

He could almost taste the salt of her skin.

But he didn’t. Because friends didn’t do that. Friends didn’t let their mouths grow dry at the sight of her full lips, the bottom now tucked between her teeth. Didn’t let the too-heady taste of desire take over.

Friends didn’t leave their zone. Friends played their position. “Just friends, I promise.” He squeezed her hand.

She swallowed, the slightest play of a smile on her face. “Thanks for coming up this weekend. I’m glad you’re here.”

He grinned. “Me too. Even with the screaming. But as one friend to another . . . what do you say I drive?”

T
HE CLEAR BLUE SKIES,
the crystalline glitter of a fresh snowfall across the plane of the lake, the shaggy evergreen frosted with powder . . . the magic of the north shore of Minnesota seemed to clear away the shadows of last night’s drive.

Eden didn’t know how to interpret Jace’s weird behavior, except for the obvious
 
—until she’d nearly killed them by almost annihilating the deer, he’d entertained some crazy idea that she’d invited him home because she wanted more from him than friendship.

A thought he clearly wanted to set straight. And had, almost like an edict:
Just friends. I promise.

They’d practically shaken on it when he’d tightened his hand around hers.

Then she’d relinquished the driver’s seat, and he visibly relaxed.

Eden stared at the sloped ceiling of her bedroom, located on the
upper floor of the family lodge. Grace had already risen, her twin bed across the room neatly made, a hand-stitched quilt smoothed over the surface. She glanced over to Amelia’s bed, expecting to see her huddled under the covers, deep in her Saturday morning slumber. But it also lay empty.

Oh no. Eden could just imagine her taking pictures, posting them on her Facebook page with quippy captions.

Poor Jace. She hung on to the fragile hope that they’d all treat him like family. Nothing special.

Voices from the kitchen drifted up the wooden stairs, down the hallway, along with the irresistible smell of bacon. She listened hard, and her heart thumped when she heard Jace’s voice.

Low. Strong. Delicious. Not unlike his singing in the car. Winding through the house and wrapping around her.

Just friends.
Yes. Not that she wanted more. More would be . . . absurd. Guys like Jace didn’t go for girls like her. He’d even said it
 
—he’d never had a girl who was just a friend before. Which meant he didn’t put her in the potential-romance category.

But she hadn’t brought Jace Jacobsen to the woods for romance. They’d have a simple, easy,
fun
weekend.

Nothing more.

She heard Casper’s laughter and stilled. Last night, he’d waited up with her parents, looking for her headlights in the storm. No cocoa, but her parents had made up the pullout sofa in the study, and she’d winced when Casper offered his bed to Jace instead.

Casper was the last one she expected to go fan crazy on her.

She had to get downstairs and rescue Jace from an invitation to go snowmobiling or snowshoeing or
 
—knowing Casper
 
—play a pickup game of hockey.

She didn’t even want to consider what Owen might be doing.
She only hoped he wasn’t completely surly to Jace. After all, Jace was still his teammate. For now.

Poor Jace. She hadn’t considered what a full-on invasion of her family might do to him. Niceness
 
—the Christiansen family poured it over people until it could suffocate them. He wasn’t the kind of guy who needed special sleeping arrangements as if he were royalty.

Eden peeled back her covers, bracing herself for the chill. The frost had scrolled artwork on her window. She checked the floor for Butter before she set her feet down
 
—the dog had followed her upstairs last night, but apparently she’d already escaped.

Eden reached for her bathrobe and pulled it over her pajamas, then padded to the bathroom, relieved to find it empty.

She put her hair in a ponytail, debated, and decided that “just friends” didn’t require makeup, then returned to her room and changed into jeans, a tank, and a purple fleece.

She slid on her leather slippers and headed down for a rescue mission.

The sight stopped her on the landing.

Casper sat on a stool at the counter, leaning over a deluxe omelet, while Amelia was curled on the sofa, scrolling through her phone. Grace brandished a spatula over the stove, turning the bacon, while her mother stirred orange juice from concentrate.

Darek, Eden’s oldest brother, sat at the table, paging through a newspaper, their dad across from him, wearing his reading glasses as he did Sudoku. No sight of Owen, but there, in the middle of the room, sat Jace, cross-legged on the floor, Tiger propped in the well of his lap. Reading
The Little Engine That Could
. Making noises
 
—whistles and chugging and voices.

Jace wore jeans, a green-and-brown flannel shirt, and a blue
ski cap, with his dark hair curling out the back. Had he made a stop at Farm & Fleet on the way up that she’d missed? The man looked like a lumberjack, as if he might belong here. In the woods. In her family.

And no one even glanced at him.

“An omelet for you, Eden?” her mother asked, and she managed a nod even as she caught Jace’s glance toward her.

Act normal.

She slid onto a stool next to Casper. “Coffee first, please.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Jace return to his book.

Well, if no one was going to make a big deal out of him sitting in their living room on a Saturday morning, she wasn’t either. After all, she’d promised him normal.

Although she could admit this felt
too
normal. For pete’s sake, Jace “J-Hammer” Jacobsen was in the living room, reading aloud to her nephew. Did no one want to take note of that, turn and gape at him? Besides her, that was?

Her mother poured her a mug, and Eden added sweetener, creamer. Cupping her hands around the mug, she glanced again at Jace. He’d finished the book and was now diving into
Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel
. With noises again.

“That’s his fifth book,” Casper said under his breath. She wanted to hug her brother but didn’t move.

“Really?”

“Mmm-hmm. He was awake when I came down, gazing out the sliding-glass door to the lake. I wonder if he slept at all.”

How could he, cramped in the sofa bed? But she didn’t say that lest Casper suddenly decide to offer him his digs again. Awkward.

“I think it’s sweet,” Grace said quietly as she slid Eden a plate. “He’s not at all who I thought he’d be.”

Hmm. She barely tasted her omelet as Jace finished the book, then wrestled with Tiger on the carpet, tickling him before Tiger rolled away, laughing. Jace got up and took a seat at the table. John handed him the sports section without looking at him.

Eden could choke on her breakfast.

“I need someone to pick up some groceries in town,” Ingrid said, glancing at Eden. Like it might be a guess whom she wanted to volunteer.

“Uh, I will,” she said obediently.

“I’ll go with her,” Jace added, turning a page. He glanced at Eden, and for a second their eyes met.

She smiled. He smiled back, and everything inside her turned to fire.

Oh, boy. She got up and dumped the rest of her eggs in the sink. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“How about we clear the ice on the lake,” Casper said.

Here it came. The so-called impromptu hockey game where Casper invited the entire town to watch the amazing J-Hammer.

“I’d like to do some fishing,” Casper added.

Fishing? Ice fishing? What about
hockey
?

“The Blue Monkeys are playing at the VFW tomorrow night. I thought I’d babysit while Darek and Ivy got away,” Grace said.

“We can babysit,” Jace said, not looking up.

We
, as in . . . Eden and Jace? But didn’t he want to go out?

Casper glanced at her, and she realized she’d asked out loud.

“I mean, well, maybe we could go see the Blue Monkeys.” Her face burned.

“Who are the Blue Monkeys?”

“It’s a local band. Darek’s best friend plays in it along with his friend’s fiancée, Claire.” It wasn’t that she didn’t love Tiger, but
 
—

“Sounds fun.”

It did?

“Tiger and I have a big night planned anyway, right, sport?” Grace handed him a piece of bacon, and he grinned at her, his big brown eyes shiny.

“Right!”

“Then it’s a date,” Darek said. “You and Jace will join Ivy and me at the VFW. And tonight . . . tonight we whip you all in a game of Sorry!”

“Now Sorry! I know. Brace yourself.” Jace smiled, and she spied something sweetly diabolical in it. He looked at her, winked, and her heart did another annoying flutter.

Friends. Just friends.

“Are you ready to go to the store?” Eden asked.

See, nothing special here. No hockey, no wild fans, no awkward romance.

Jace rose from his chair, and boy, he did lumberjack in spades, the flannel shirt only accentuating his shoulders, his trim waist.

“You can wear my boots,” Casper said, sliding off his stool and retrieving his Sorels. “Your dress shoes are useless here.”

“Thanks,” Jace said and sat down in the entry, pulling on the boots. He added his leather jacket.

Who was this guy? Eden put on her parka, her hat, and felt dowdy next to his lumberjack glory.

“Do you want the keys to the Caravan?” her mother asked as she handed Eden the list.

“No. I’ll take the Charger.” Please. She had Jace Jacobsen with her. He couldn’t be seen in a Caravan.

Ingrid frowned at her, and she wondered if she’d spoken aloud again.

Jace stood in the drive of the lodge, surveying the destruction on this side of the lake. Beyond the lodge, as far as they could see, wood lay in charred ruin, the snow like a nuclear wasteland. Ash and the deadened remains of the trees evidenced the wildfire that had nearly taken out their property. “You mentioned a forest fire, but I had no idea. No wonder Casper isn’t going back to college this semester.”

He wasn’t? “What are you talking about?”

“He’s taking time off to finish a couple of the cabins.” Jace gestured to the framed-in shells of five new cabins, Darek’s handiwork from the fall.

“I didn’t know he was doing that.” She climbed into the car, and Jace squeezed himself into the passenger side without a suggestion to drive. Well, it was her town. He was just a guest.

“Yeah. Grace is against it, but having him here would make her feel better about going away to culinary school. She’s worried about leaving the family in the lurch.”

Grace was going to culinary school? Eden pulled out, glancing at him. Had she slept for a week while he hung out with her family? Why did she not know this?

“Although Amelia is surely in the mood to leave,” Jace continued. “She wants to do her first semester overseas. She was looking at Prague. I don’t know, though. It feels like she might be getting in over her head. She’s only eighteen.”

“Okay, who are you? And since when do you know so much about my family?”

“It’s not that hard. They’re really nice. I just listened. By the way, the local peewee team is having a game this morning, 11 a.m. at the arena. Wanna stop by? I love small-town games.”

Really?

They stopped at the Red Rooster, and he grabbed a cart, pushing it behind her like they might be an old married couple. Like he was a regular in her life, in Deep Haven. Indeed, no one even glanced their way as he trailed her through the store, adding green peppers, onions, potatoes, stew meat, and crusty French bread to the cart.

“I hope your mom is making stew,” he said. “I love stew.”

“It’ll probably be Grace, but . . . I read somewhere that you loved sushi.”

“Graham’s creation. I’m a meat-and-potatoes guy.”

She shook her head and stopped in front of the cooler. “My mom suggested ice cream.” She reached for the rocky road.

“How about Moose Tracks?” He picked up the carton, waggled it, giving her a smile.

“What, are you ten?” But she couldn’t help but smile as she put the container in the cart. “Do I need to spring for a quarter so you can ride the tractor outside?”

“They have a tractor ride? Swell!”

She laughed. Okay, whatever he’d done with cover boy Jace Jacobsen, she liked the lumberjack version too.

A little.

Okay, a lot. Even if he still seemed miles outside her league. Too charming as he unloaded the cart, flirting with the cashier. The girl didn’t recognize him
 
—and Eden tried not to acknowledge the strange twinge inside at that.

They headed over to the arena. More of a covered community center built for the curling team, the ice wasn’t big enough for a standard rink, so the peewees played outside, a cluster of them in red-and-white jerseys, the other team in teal and black. They chased the puck around the rink, the sound of sticks on ice
like firecrackers, dissipating in the cool, crisp air. Cars idled white breath just beyond the wooden fence as parents watched the game.

Jace led her to the rickety wooden stands. “That’s cheating, watching the game from the car.” He blew into his hands, curling them tight before he warmed them in his coat pockets. “That kid out there, number ten? He’s the team enforcer. See how he blocks for the other players or even zeroes in on one? And the coach only puts him out for a couple minutes, just to take out another player.”

She watched, her mouth open. “Seriously? I didn’t think they did that in peewees.”

Jace shook his head. “It’s technically not allowed, and they recently banned bodychecking, but they still check. And they don’t really call them enforcers. . . . But some coaches just . . . do it. It’s part of the game. It only escalates from here.”