Reflections on Ice Ch. 01

Here's something brand new, in a brand new city, with a brand new team. The main guy isn't based on anyone in particular, but you may recognize some of his teammates. (Note: I started this story before trade deadline earlier this year, and alas, a couple have been traded, but for the purposes of this story, I left them in.)

I hope you enjoy, and don't forget to leave feedback. It's what I love. ;)

Take care, and happy reading!

M.

****

Dylan looked around the bar and lifted his bottle of beer to his lips. He had to remind himself not to down the entire bottle in one go. It was going to be a long night and he didn't need to be falling down drunk. He eyed the tables lined up in a neat row, and the men and women milling around the open space next to them. They looked as nervous and uncomfortable as he did. He was also still hovering in a state of disbelief.

What am I doing here?

A man in a suit stepped forward and the music blasting out of the speakers dropped in volume.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen." The man grinned at the gathered crowd. "Welcome to Tapley's Night of First Impressions."

Dylan wanted to die. He had finally reached the low point in his social life.

"Some of you may be familiar with the process here, some of you may not." The man - Dylan assumed he was the event host - continued to speak. "We call it First Impressions, but it's more widely known as speed dating."

Dylan squeezed his eyes shut. Yup. He had reached a new low. He thought he'd hit it with his on-line profiles, the ones that never got any responses, but now...

Fucking speed dating.

He took another long draw on his beer. He'd gone to a great college, earning a degree in English literature and another in history, all while playing hockey well enough to be drafted in the second round. He was smart enough to have figured out a better way to meet women, and yet, here he was.

"All right, let's get started." The host clapped his hands together. "Ladies, please have a seat. The men will be the ones to change seats each round, and at the end of the night, if there are any mutual matches, you'll get each other's phone numbers. Any questions?"

A few people shook their heads. Most looked like Dylan felt, as if they wanted to leave and never come back. But he was here now. He'd already signed in, paid the fee, and he'd told himself he'd give it a try. At this point, he had nothing to lose. Patting the sticker on his chest, scrawled with his assigned number, nineteen, he moved towards one of the tables.

As the music started up again, at a lower register than before, Dylan slid into a chair, across from a woman with short brown hair. She smiled at him, and he smiled back, or hoped he did.

"I'm Betty."

Dylan held his hand out towards her, not sure if they were supposed to shake hands, and she looked a little surprised, but did it anyway. "I'm Teddy."

"Nice to meet you, Teddy."

He'd decided to go with a fake name, though Theodore was his middle name, so it wasn't an all-out fabrication. Still, he thought with his line of work, if anyone went home from here and tried to Google him, they'd come up empty-handed. He really didn't want his name plastered over the internet for attending a speed dating event. What kind of hockey player can't get his own dates?

An awkward silence fell over the table, and Dylan couldn't think of a single thing he wanted to say to Betty.

Eventually, she spoke up. "Is this your first time here?"

"Yes."

"Have you done speed dating anywhere else?"

"No." He shook his head.

She pursed her lips, clearly put out that he wasn't offering more than one-word answers. "Um... Well, I've been here once before."

Dylan nodded. "And?"

"It was all right." She shrugged.

Another awkward silence descended.

Dylan started to sweat. God, this was worse than he thought it would be. He just couldn't talk to women. His mother, yes. His sisters, sure. Friends he'd known forever, or old ladies he helped at the grocery store, fine. But this? One-on-one? With someone attractive who smelled nice? He felt like an ogre. All his education and years of training couldn't help him hold a simple conversation.

A few minutes later, a bell rang, and there was a collective scraping of chairs and shuffling feet. Dylan couldn't help but notice the sigh of relief that lifted Betty's shoulders as he moved on to the next table.

And so it went for the next hour. There were six more women he met, and after that, there was a break for everyone to hit the restrooms, refresh their drinks, or flee, which is what Dylan longed to do. He stuck with it though, knowing he couldn't just leave. He'd told his roommate, Tristen, what he was doing tonight and he'd never hear the end of it if he ducked out early. He knew he could lie, but he'd never been good at that either, so he sat through another fifteen minutes of excruciating small talk.

The bell rang and he offered a smile of apology to the blond woman he'd been seated across from. She wasn't even looking in his direction.

Stifling a sigh, Dylan shifted into the chair at the next table and looked up into a pair of startling grey-green eyes. Under those, a smattering of freckles across round cheeks and all surrounded by dark red hair that slid back over her shoulders as she straightened in her seat.

"Hi." Dylan found himself speaking first. "I'm Teddy."

She met his smile with a tentative one of her own, but as their eyes met, hers narrowed. She studied his face in silence for a long moment, and Dylan started to wonder if he had a booger hanging out of his nose or something.

"Nice to meet you." She met his eyes again. "Teddy."

He heard the hesitation before she said his name and shifted on his chair, feeling even more uncomfortable.

"I'm Cassia."

"It's nice to meet you, Cassia." It was the most Dylan had said at once all night. Lowering his eyes, he turned his bottle of beer around in a circle on the table, thinking of what he could ask her. "Is this your first time here?"

She didn't answer right away and when he looked up again, she was frowning. "Yes. And yourself?"

He nodded. "Yeah. First time." He was pretty sure it was the last, as well. "What do you think about the whole speed dating scene?"

She shrugged, her frown smoothing somewhat. "I suppose it's no worse than some methods of meeting people."

Again, he nodded. "I agree. On-line dating just wasn't working for me."

She said nothing and he was beginning to feel a little unnerved by her scrutiny.

Clearing his throat, he scrambled for something else to say. What were some of the things other women had asked him?

"Uh... So, Cassia, what do you do?"

"I'm a mechanic."

Dylan blinked. She didn't look like a mechanic. Then he chastised himself. Don't be that guy who stereotypes. "Really? I wish I knew about cars. I hate having to take mine in every time I hear a funny noise."

A tiny smile curved the corners of her mouth, and Dylan found himself staring at her lips. They looked soft.

"And what do you do, Teddy?"

He dragged his eyes back to hers, feeling a little hot under the collar when he saw the amused look she was giving him.

"I... manage a restaurant." It was the second time he'd given that answer so far. He thought it would be easier to lie about than if he'd said he was a lawyer or financier or something.

"Really?" Cassia's eyebrows lifted. "A restaurant?"

Dylan nodded. "Nothing fancy, just a family place in University Park."

Cassia stared at him, saying nothing, a frown forming on her face again. "University Park? Sure. Why not."

Now it was Dylan's turn to frown. He didn't know why she was so disbelieving. Then again, he knew he wasn't a good liar. Maintaining a false identity wasn't his forté.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment, and Dylan took a sip of his beer, wondering if he should cut his losses and bolt after the next bell.

Then Cassia shook her head and leaned forward. "I'm sorry, but you can't be serious."

"What?" Dylan set his bottle down with a clink.

"A restaurant manager?" Her voice was pitched low, and Dylan felt himself leaning forward as well. "And Teddy?"

Dylan scowled. "What's wrong with my name?"

"For starters, it's not your name." Cassia's eyes narrowed. "And we both know you're not a restaurant manager."

The bottom dropped out of Dylan's stomach. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I don't know why you're lying about who you are tonight. Maybe you're bored or maybe you get off on lying to unsuspecting women, but can you please drop the act?"

Dylan didn't know what to say. He cleared his throat and looked around, praying for that damn bell. "I'm not acting." And he wasn't, for the most part. Sure, he'd fudged his name, and lied about what he did for a living but he never thought in a million years that anyone would recognize him.

The look on Cassia's face told him she didn't believe him. "I've been watching hockey since I was a kid. What's the deal, Samuels?"

Dylan felt his face heat up and sweat prickled all along his hairline. Jesus, she really did know who he was. Humiliation seeped through every pore and he found himself unable to meet her eye. "Please don't say anything to anyone."

Some, or all, of his anxiety must have shown because when he met her gaze again, she'd sat back and her expression had changed.

He leaned forward, his voice low. "Please. I'm not doing this to mess with anyone, I swear."

She still looked incredulous but the bell rang. For a long moment, he stayed where he was, searching her face, begging silently for her to keep his secret.

"Excuse me, buddy?"

Dylan looked up at the man standing next to the table. "Yeah, sorry." He shoved his chair back and stood up, looking over his shoulder at Cassia, who stared back at him as he moved on to the next table and the next woman.

For the rest of the evening, Dylan couldn't focus. He tried to answer the women's questions and tried to ask some in turn, but his gaze kept straying across the room to Cassia's table. When the last bell sounded, Dylan wanted to run and never look back, but he stood up from the last table and managed to thank the last woman he'd met.

Then he turned, seeking out that dark, red head. He didn't know what he intended to do until he saw her making a beeline for the door. Dylan was moving across the room before he realized it. He deposited his empty bottle on the end of the bar and hurried after her. He didn't know what he could possibly have to say to her, but he just knew he needed to talk to her.

****

As she stalked away from Tapley's, Cassia jerked the open sides of her jacket closed in front of her. It was late January in Dallas, when the weather could be really good or really bad. At the moment, it was pretty good, so she wasn't cold, but she did feel the need to wrap herself up after that disastrous evening.

What had she been thinking? Speed dating? She shoved a hand through her hair when a breeze brushed it in her face.

Mostly, she'd been shocked to even find a speed dating night. She'd thought for sure that it had been edged out long ago by dating websites and apps, but she'd figured it would be the quickest and safest way to possibly find a date for her friend's wedding in March. Then the night had started, and she'd known after the first conversation that it wouldn't work.

With a sigh, she slid her hands into her pockets and stopped at the corner of the intersection to wait for the light to change.

"Cassia!"

She turned at the sound of his voice and frowned to see Dylan Samuels jogging up to her. "Why are you following me?"

He looked surprised by her sharp tone. "I'm not following you."

"I was in the bar, and now I'm here, and you just came running up to me. That's following." She turned back around as the light changed. Starting across, she didn't look back to see if he stayed or left. At the other corner, she stopped, and looked over her shoulder. There was Dylan, striding up to her again.

"Now you're just being weird."

"Look, I'm not following you." At her pointed look, he scowled. "I'm trying to apologize for back there."

"For what? Lying about who you are?" Cassia shrugged and shoved her hands deeper into her pockets. "I don't care what little games you were playing."

"I wasn't playing a game."

"Look, you don't owe me an apology." Cassia faced the pedestrian sign across the street, willing it to change. "I wouldn't have given you my number anyway."

His laugh was strained. "Oh really? You knew who I was but wouldn't have give me a chance?"

She shook her head. "I don't date athletes." Which was a bald-faced lie. She'd dated football and baseball players all her life. You couldn't throw a rock in Texas without hitting someone who'd played something in their life, or was still playing.

"That seems awfully judgmental."

She met his eyes, saw the smirk on his face, and wanted to kick him in the shins to make him leave her alone. She didn't need this. The whole night had been a disaster, and she wanted to get to the Lone Star Diner across the street for a slice of pie and some coffee.

"I suppose it is. So why are you still here?"

He shrugged, looking uncertain. "Maybe I wanted an excuse to get the hell out of there."

When she glanced his way, he wasn't looking at her. He was eyeing the bar half a block back, frowning, his mouth pursed tight. While he was distracted with his own anxiety, Cassia studied his profile, and decided he was even more attractive in person than on TV, with his short brown hair, and bright blue eyes, the late-day stubble on his cheeks and chin, and the way he towered over her five-foot six inch frame by a good eight inches. Her curiosity was growing, the longer they stood there, waiting for the light. What was a hot-shot hockey player doing at a speed-dating night? And why was he looking so upset over the whole thing?

I'm going to regret this. But then again, it wasn't the first time she'd taken pity on someone who looked so down in the dumps. She pushed out a breath. "Do you like pie?"

He gave her a startled look. "Pie?"

She pointed across the road at the twenty-four hour diner. "I'm going there. You want to join me?"

"I thought you wouldn't have given me your number."

The light changed. "I'm still not, but you look like you had about as much fun as I did at Tapley's. I know pie is the only thing that'll salvage this night for me now."

When he didn't respond, she shrugged and started across the street. A few seconds later, she heard his lengthy stride catch up and hid a smile when he walked with her up the diner steps. He held the door open for her, and she thanked him as she walked in.

She sat at the end of the counter, on her usual stool, and he perched on the one next to her.

An older lady, her hair in a grey ponytail, walked down to the end of the counter. "How y'all doin' tonight, darlin'?"

Cassia smiled as the woman poured her a hot cup of coffee. "Oh, don't ask, Sally."

Sally clucked her tongue and turned her smile on Dylan. "And you, sugar? You want a coffee?"

"Yes, please."

She nodded and poured him a mug as well. Then she set down a menu for him, and touched Cassia's hand. "I'll get your pie, darlin'."

"Thanks, Sall."

Dylan glanced at her as he reached for the sugar canister on the counter between them. "So you come here often."

"Is that a question?" She sipped her coffee. Black, strong, and hot. She loved it.

"An observation."

They didn't speak until Sally returned with a slice of pie. "It's cherry today, darlin'."

"Thank you, Sally. You're a life saver." Cassia grabbed the fork and dug in, ignoring Dylan's look.

"And you, sugar? What can I get you?"

Dylan looked at the pie, quickly disappearing from Cassia's plate. "I think I'd like to try the pie, ma'am."

"Sure thing." She returned in a minute with another slice of pie. "Enjoy."

For several minutes, the only sounds between Cassia and Dylan were the clinking of forks on plates, and the sloshing of coffee in their mugs.

"That was possibly the best piece of pie I've ever had."

Cassia smiled at Dylan's assessment. "Sally is an excellent cook. I've been coming here since I was a kid."

"Did you grow up in this neighborhood?"

Cassia nodded, and watched as he added a bit more sugar to his coffee. "Gross. How can you drink it like that?"

He shrugged and sipped some more. "I like it."

She shuddered. She liked her sweets but coffee was meant to taste like coffee.

"Listen." Dylan swiveled on his stool to look her in the eye. "I want to apologize for before. I didn't mean to lie about who I am."

"You don't owe me an apology."

"I do." He let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't want you to think that this is something I do, trolling bars and telling lies to the women I meet."

She lifted her eyebrows. She may have accused him of that, but that was because she'd been so thrown by the sight of him sitting across the table from her. She had a tendency to blurt out her thoughts without always giving them a proper vetting.

He started to speak again, but Cassia cut him off. "Look, Dylan, I'm sorry if I was rude before, but you really don't owe me an explanation."

"You weren't rude." He let out a short laugh and his eyes darted away. "I honestly didn't think anyone would recognize me."

She believed him. He wasn't what you'd call a superstar, like Tristen Sturgess, or the captain, Jake Brown. As a defenseman, Dylan Samuels probably enjoyed a lot more anonymity than his teammates. If Cassia hadn't been a lifelong hockey fan, and a fan of the Dallas Stars, she wouldn't have known who he was either. It was his bad luck that she did.

"I'm sorry if I ruined your night."

He brought his eyes back to her face and shuddered. "God, no. The night was terrible before I met you."

She let out a short laugh and nodded. "It was awful, wasn't it?"

He looked startled by her laugh but smiled anyway. "I couldn't wait to get out of there."

"Is that why you chased me down?"

"No." His smile disappeared. "No, I didn't mean to chase you."

"It's fine. I'm just giving you a hard time."

He nodded but his face was lined with a frown and he had his shoulders hunched up. As she watched him, he glanced her way, eyes widening, before his gaze darted away again.

What is his deal? Cassia sipped her coffee, her eyes narrowed. In her experience, professional athletes were confident, talkative. Womanizing. She shook the thought from her head and turned to face him. She was still curious, more so now that she'd spent more than ten minutes with him, and she let her thoughts free.

"So, Samuels. What's the deal?"

"What?"

"What's a guy like you doing at a speed dating event?"

His expression closed up even more and the tips of his ears turned pink. "Uh... would you believe me if I said it was a dare?"

Cassia studied his face for a moment before shaking her head. "No."

He blew out a breath. "Well, I can't think of anything else. So let's move on."

"Are you kidding?" Cassia let out a short laugh. "You're going to explain why you were there and why you were lying about who you are."

He met her narrowed eyes with his own and she smiled to see some of the confidence creep back into his face. "You first."

She was about to refuse. To tell him to take a hike. But she'd been the curious one and had only invited him to the diner to pry. Tit-for-tat, she supposed. "Fine. I'll tell you and then you're going to fess up."

"Deal."

"I need a date for my friend's wedding." She said it in a rush, hoping he wouldn't notice the blush on her cheeks. Damn her fair complexion. "I can't seem to meet any eligible men anywhere else, so I thought I'd try Tapley's First Impressions."