Breaking the Ice

Chapter 12

12

Nick eagerly awaited Samantha’s arrival the next morning, undecided if he wanted the date to have been good or another of her comical disasters.

He’d known Paul for years. He was a nice guy and nice was apparently Samantha’s catnip. But he wondered if nice could be a bit much to take on a permanent basis? The more Rita Summers he read, the more he was convinced that what Sam really needed was a hero of that ilk. Someone who would drive her to distraction with passion while also stimulating her with whip-smart banter and worldly knowledge.

Rita never did nice.

Sitting opposite her at the restaurant two nights ago with her looking sexy and sultry, like Nigella freaking Lawson, all curvy and soft, had only cemented his conviction. Samantha in work clothes was distracting enough, Samantha dressed to kill had been a sight to behold. And the fact she really didn’t have a clue about her appeal added to her allure.

That she seemed destined to settle for nice was a travesty.

But it really wasn’t any of his business, so he hoped, for her sake, she’d had a better date than him. In an effort to distract himself from thinking about his employee and her personal life, he’d gone out with Angie.

Young, cute, perky Angie.

There was one advantage to working in a romance bookshop – it was a great place to pick up. Most of the customer base were women and, thanks to Samantha who had insisted he become familiar with his market, he was reading widely in the genre now. The women who came into Birdie’s who weren’t aware of his NHL pedigree were thoroughly impressed by his knowledge and it was a really great conversation starter.

Not that Nick had ever needed an icebreaker.

Angie had been aware of his pedigree and had dropped in most days since she’d first come by looking for Colleen Hoover’s backlist. She’d flirted outrageously with him from the get-go but, well versed in how to handle that, Nick had kept her at arm’s length. But then Sam had come in the store looking all dreamy and Angie had seemed like a good distraction.

Wrong . Angie had been a handful. Which, given his motives, was what he’d deserved.

More than aware of her sexual power, she was in full flirt mode from the beginning, making a lackluster conversation even more difficult to navigate. She talked for two hours about the latest Bachelorette news and the rumored Kardashian feud and some influencer with a million TikTok followers and Samantha expressing concern about her age came back to him.

Twenty-four as it turned out. A very confident twenty-four. Very versed in body language and eye-fucking. Which should have been a turn-on except he found himself wishing she’d quote figures or stick a Post-it note to him instead.

She asked him back to her apartment and he almost declined but hadn’t it been the whole point of the night? He needed to get laid and Angie was clearly up for it. So, he went to her apartment and she didn’t waste any time getting down to business.

Which should also have been a turn-on but… the sensations were all wrong. She straddled his lap and he could feel the bones of her butt pressing against his thighs, her small breasts disappeared from view when she flattened them against his chest and her hips felt like handles beneath his palms.

All he could think about was how soft and round Samantha was. How her cleavage would spill up and out if she was squashed close to him and he’d only have to look down to cop an eyeful of her lushness.

In the end, Nick had called a halt which Angie did not take well. Not that he blamed her. He’d tried to let her down gently but it was a perfectly horrible thing to do to someone and he didn’t blame her for not understanding his it’s-not-you-it’s-me explanation.

The door dinged and Nick looked up to find Samantha walking through it. She was in her regulation jeans and black T-shirt and he knew instantly that she had what Angie lacked. She was all curvy and lush. Not angles and points.

He also knew instantly that things hadn’t gone well with her either.

“Did you know he’d had a vasectomy?” she demanded the second she spied him. “I swear if you did Nick, I’m going to kill you.”

Nick knew he shouldn’t laugh but then he pictured her eggs sobbing and burst into raucous laughter.

“This is not funny,” she snapped, storming past him to the back room.

“It kinda is,” he called after her.

She reappeared a minute later glaring at him and Nick pressed his lips together to stop himself from grinning. “What the hell am I going to do with two hundred condoms in my apartment?”

Nick’s smile faded. After spending these last weeks with her, he knew she was an overachiever but… what the hell? “You bought two hundred condoms?”

“There was so much choice.” She shrugged. “I just got a box of each.”

The dejection in her voice sobered him further. “I swear on this Rita Summers’” – he put his hand on the cover of the book he’d been reading – “I didn’t know about the vasectomy.”

“ Nick …” She huffed out a breath. “It was your job to screen them.”

“I thought I was vetting them for two heads not sperm count.”

“I want to have a baby . Those things are kind of important.”

“Right. Next time I’ll be sure to ask their fertility stats.”

“Thank you,” she said waspishly. “How did your date go?”

He shrugged. “It was okay. I think she’s a little too young for me.”

“ Ya think? ”

“Yes, okay, Miss Smarty Pants. You were right. You can vet all my dates in future, too.”

“Well for damn sure, I’ll do a better job than you, Nick Hawke.”

Samantha left the shop mid-morning to grab their regular hit of Martha’s orange friands. Nick usually undertook the pilgrimage, citing his need for exercise, but she hadn’t given him the chance today. Last night’s disaster played over and over in her head and the mutinous noises from her eggs were making her restless.

A young mother pushed a pram toward her and Samantha caught a glimpse of a smooth bald scalp and a pink bow as they hurried past. She tracked their progress down the street, a funny pain in her chest as the overwhelming desire to be that woman took hold.

Would she ever know the joy of holding her child in her arms?

She rounded a corner and the mock Tudor facade of Martha’s Teahouse that had remained unchanged for a century , came into sight. Unfortunately, not even it managed to lift her out of the funk caused by the glimpse of that little bald head.

“The usual?” Wanda asked.

Wanda was a bookshop regular. She adored vintage Mills & Boon and early bodice-rippers. “Yes thanks,” Samantha said and watched Wanda bustle off to fill the order.

The place was jumping as usual, but the infamous brisk service saw her heading back to Birdie’s inside of one minute. The tangy citrus aroma wafting from the brown paper packet was mighty tempting on the return trip and Samantha was grateful for the distraction from the vexed issue of her empty womb.

“Friands!” she exclaimed, holding up the packet as she opened the shop door.

Nick pointed to the two plates he’d already laid out near the cash register and within seconds they were taking their first bites. The sugar rush, even if only temporarily, improved Samantha’s mood tenfold.

“God, these are good. I may have to take a supply with me to New Brunswick.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Surely you can afford to have them flown in fresh each day?”

“Hmm,” he said around a mouthful. “Good point.”

“I mean, who knows how your hockey might suffer from friand withdrawals.”

“Better point.”

And then they were grinning at each other and Samantha’s heart was suddenly light again. Light enough to float away had the bell not dinged.

“You were supposed to flip the sign,” Nick mouthed.

Samantha rolled her eyes as she stuffed in the last morsel of her friand and wiped at the crumbs around her mouth. “Can I help you?” she asked as she turned to greet their customer.

The smile that had been forming died as Ray stood before her, his expression smug.

“So it is true. You are slumming it.” He laughed then. A laugh that would have done a wicked stepmother from a fairy tale proud.

She bristled internally but refused to rise to the bait. “It’s called biding my time,” she said with what she hoped was a menacing smile.

Samantha was aware of Nick tensing in her peripheral vision as Ray strolled over to the closest bookshelf and appraised the spines disparagingly. He pulled one out, turned it over and read the title, a sneer lifting his lip. “ The Pirate’s Mistress ?” He shook his head and replaced the book like it had fouled his hand.

She smiled sweetly. “I didn’t realize you could read, Ray.”

If the jab landed, she couldn’t see as Ray continued along the shelf. “When they told me at the office you were working here, I didn’t believe them. How the mighty have fallen.”

“Keeping my chair warm, Ray?” she asked, ignoring his taunt.

He laughed. “Your chair’s gone, Sammy. It was too basic for my liking.”

“It was functional.”

“Yes. Functional. Like the rest of your office. Don’t worry, I completely redecorated.”

Samantha wondered how much that had cost tight-fisted Bob and knew for sure that Ray’s days were numbered. “Did you come for a particular reason? You know, we don’t sell how-to books here.”

Ray appeared from behind the shelves. He frowned. “How-to books?”

“Yes, you know, How-To-Bluff-Your-Way-Through-A-Job-You-Know-Nothing-About . Or maybe you’re after something like Accountancy for Morons ?”

His smile slipped slightly. “Just came to let you know Uncle Bob has promised me the corner office.”

It took all of Samantha’s willpower not to flinch. Ray knew – hell, everyone in the building knew – she’d been gunning for that corner office. And there was no fucking way it’d be his. She’d hadn’t worked her butt off for the last five years to hand it over to Ray.

“You need to be able to count past ten for that.”

It was Ray’s turn to flinch as Samantha hit her mark. He took a step toward her, barely concealed fury smoldering in his eyes. “You underestimating me again, Sammy ?”

“Hey.” Nick’s voice rumbled around the bookshop. It wasn’t loud, but it was menacing, something she imagined his opponents knew only too well. “Don’t take another fucking step.”

Samantha turned to find Nick eyeing Ray, his eyes as frigid as resurfaced ice. Her eggs swooned. And then something even stranger than cheering eggs happened. Her heart did a mad little flop in her chest.

“Buy a book. Or leave.”

Confused but bolstered by Nick’s support, she turned back to Ray. “You heard the man.”

Ray looked from Samantha to Nick then back to Samantha again. “I’ll call you from my new office,” he muttered, backing away several paces before turning and letting himself out.

Samantha stared at the door for long silent moments. “I want that office, damn it.”

“You definitely can’t let that son of a bitch win.”

Turning, Samantha beamed. Nick looked pissed . And hell, if that wasn’t ringing every one of her bells. “My sentiments exactly.”