Expose on the Ice (Sparks on the Ice #1)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

LILY

N otebook in hand, I settle into my seat in the press box, ready to observe the Frost Giants’ pre-game routine. The arena buzzes with energy, but my focus is solely on the ice below. As the players file out for warm-ups, I can’t help but zero in on Knox.

Our run-in at the hotel still plays on repeat in my mind. The way his eyes had flashed with anger, the tension crackling between us in that narrow hallway. But there had been something else there too – a heat that wasn’t just from frustration. I’d seen the way his gaze had flickered down to my lips, how his breath had caught when I called him out for staring at me.

I shake my head, trying to clear those thoughts. I’m here to do a job, not get caught up in whatever this thing is between Knox and me. Still, a small part of me can’t deny the thrill of our verbal sparring, the way he gets under my skin like no one else.

And the way my three-pronged plan to break down his defenses – spend a lot of time with the team, butter up his teammates, and be always watching – has got under his skin. It couldn’t have gone better, succeeding beyond my wildest dreams.

I also can’t deny how good the last few days have been for my confidence. I’d started this job meekly, knowing I’d got my big shot yet feeling like an imposter, but in the heat of Carter’s resistance and the anger it sparked in me, a new Lily has been forged.

Lily 2.0.

Assertive.

Confident.

Sexy.

“You’re the terminator, bitch,” Jess had said, when I’d told her everything that had happened during a late-night phone call after my run-in with Knox in the hallway.

The thought brings a smile to my face as I watch the team go through their warm-up drills. I notice the intricate web of relationships on the ice, like watching a complex dance, with each player filling a specific role. Some gravitate towards each other naturally, while others maintain a respectful distance.

And then there’s Knox.

Despite the obvious friction between him and some of his teammates – the result of his recent poor performances and my efforts to get closer to them and under his skin, no doubt – there’s an undeniable air of respect surrounding him. When he speaks, others listen. When he moves, eyes follow.

He’s their alpha. Their top dog.

I scribble furiously in my notebook, trying to capture every nuance, hyper-conscious that my first story is due soon. I’d been looking for an angle, and I think I’ve found it. The way Tank defers to Knox on a particular drill. How the younger players watch him out of the corners of their eyes, mimicking his movements. Even Coach Carson seems to value his input.

It’s fascinating to watch. Here’s a man who’s been nothing but hostile towards me, who’s made it clear he wants nothing to do with me. And, at times, it seems he’s that brash and aggressive with his teammates. Yet, on the ice, he has an authority that’s impossible to ignore. Nobody works harder, and nobody cares more.

As the team finishes their warm-ups and heads back to the locker room, I return to my notes. There’s a story here, about Knox and the team dynamics. It isn’t the story I’d planned to tell: an all-singing, all-dancing expose of the man himself, sharing his deepest hopes, dreams, fears, and secrets. But it will be enough to entice the readers and get Frank off my back for a while.

I spend the time between the warm-up and the start of the game typing out my story. When I’m done, I’m happy. This series is far from over, and I have a feeling the most interesting stories are yet to come, but what I have is a damn good start. I’ve painted Carter Knox as the eye of the storm, around which swirls a tempest that is much of his own doing.

And God, do I want to fight my way through it and get to the core of him.

CARTER

My skates cut through the ice with a crunch as I step onto the arena. The roar of the crowd fades to a dull hum as I focus on the game ahead. But even as I take my position for the face-off, I don’t feel right. The ice is usually my place of focus, where I can channel my anger and pain in one direction, and escape for a few hours.

But it doesn’t feel right. Not now.

I can’t shake the prickling sensation at the back of my neck. I glance towards the press box, my eyes locking onto Lily’s for a split second. She’s scribbling furiously in that damn notebook of hers, probably dissecting my every move, the words flowing as easily as my sweat will be in a little while. The thought makes my blood boil.

She’s watching. Always watching.

I grit my teeth, trying to focus on the game ahead, but my mind keeps drifting back to that damn hotel corridor. To her piercing green eyes and sharp tongue, getting right up in my face. The way she’d called me out on staring at her…

Christ. I’d wanted to do more than that. I’d–

No. I shake my head, trying to clear the image. This is precisely what I don’t need right now. Back in my room, alone, frustrated, and yeah, turned on, I’d thought getting myself off would help clear my head. Instead, it had just complicated everything.

Because now, along with the anger and the fear of her digging too deep, there’s… attraction. This heat that I can’t quite shake. My fantasies had been vivid, to say the least. Us, pressed together. Her lips on mine, fierce and demanding. My hands in her hair, her curves, her everywhere. I–

The referee’s whistle pierces the air, and my thoughts, and I snap back to attention. As the puck drops, I channel all my frustration into my play. I’m a force of nature on the ice, my passes sharper, my shots more precise. But with each shift, each rush down the ice, I feel her eyes on me.

Damn it.

This is precisely what I’d been afraid of. She’s getting to me, and I know that’s exactly how she wants it. She’d changed tactics when I’d refused to open up to her, and I’d failed to adjust. But I need to focus. To remember why I’m here.

And why I can’t let her or anyone else get too close.

Sarah’s face flashes in my mind, and with it comes the familiar wave of guilt and pain. The accident, the cover-up, the lies… It’s all still there, just beneath the surface. And Lily, with her probing questions and her too-perceptive gaze, is threatening to crack that carefully constructed facade.

I can’t let that happen. No matter how attractive she is, no matter how much a part of me wants to give in to this… whatever it is between us. The stakes are too high. Lily might think she has me figured out, but she doesn’t know shit, and won’t unless I let her win this little game of hers.

I’ll keep my secrets locked up tight, no matter what.

Because the alternative… well, that isn’t an option.

Not for me, not for my family, not for anyone.

The thought brings clarity to my game, and I see an opening. Their star defender has the puck, his head down for a split second too long. I don’t hesitate. I slam into him, the sound of our bodies colliding echoing through the arena. The crowd erupts, but I barely hear them over the rush of adrenaline. I grin, feeling powerful and in control once again.

Untouchable.

Suddenly, I’m surrounded. Helmets hit the ice and opponents converge on me, fists flying. I give as good as I get, but am badly outnumbered. Then I feel a presence at my back – Tank. He’s jumped into the fray, followed closely by Echo and Daze. At that moment, all the tension that had been simmering in the locker room disappears. We’re a unit, protecting our own.

The refs finally break it up, but not before I’ve taken an elbow to the face and dropped to the ice. The others are mostly fine, and have surrounded me like a praetorian guard. As I get up, I thank them, and they pat me on the back. The crowd’s boos rain down, but I don’t give a shit. For the first time in weeks, I feel alive.

As I skate towards the penalty box, I can feel warm blood trickling from my nose. I drop onto the bench, grabbing a towel to stem the blood flow. That’s when I feel that prickling sensation again. I look up, my eyes immediately finding Lily’s. What I see there catches me off guard. Gone is the cool, professional mask she usually wears.

For a split second, I see genuine concern etched on her face.

Our gazes lock, and something shifts in the air between us. It’s like she’s seeing me – really seeing me – for the first time. Not the hockey star, not the asshole who’s been giving her the cold shoulder, but just… me. The moment stretches, heavy with unspoken words. Then, as quickly as it appears, the look vanishes. Lily’s face smooths back into its usual neutral expression, her pen poised over her notebook.

It seems like we’ve found our level again.

I’ve regained some control over myself and the situation.

She’s given a little of it up as well.

As the penalty clock ticks down, I try to shake off the memory of her concerned gaze, curiosity about what she’s writing, and questions of what Lily has seen in that split second – and why it matters so damn much. I step back onto the ice, feeling more sense of purpose than I have in days, so badly shaken had I been since meeting her.

I have a game to finish, a team to lead, and a past to keep buried.

LILY

The locker room is a cacophony of celebration, the air thick with the mingled scents of sweat, victory, and beer. I lean against the far wall, my notebook clutched to my chest like a shield, trying to blend into the background as much as possible.

It isn’t easy. I stick out like a sore thumb amidst the sea of hulking, half-naked hockey players. And hoo… boy… are some of them easy on the eye.

But, for once, no one seems to care about my presence, either positively or negatively. The Frost Giants have just pulled off a stunning comeback win, and the euphoria is infectious. Even I can’t help but feel a little caught up in it all.

My eyes scan the room, taking mental notes. Echo and Daze are in the middle of it all, leading a raucous chant that I can’t quite make out over the general din. Tank is off to the side, grinning ear to ear as he FaceTimes with someone – probably his kids.

And then there’s Knox.

He stands apart from the others, methodically peeling off his gear. While the rest of the team basks in their shared glory, Knox seems to exist in his own little bubble, as usual. And yet… I can’t help but notice how his isolation seems to fuel the others’ camaraderie.

It’s as if his aloofness gives them something to rally against, a common point of frustration that unites them. I’d seen it before, of course. In my research, in the way the other players talked about him. But seeing it play out in real-time is something else entirely.

Carter Knox, the reluctant linchpin of team culture.

And the star of the show, his late goal stealing the win.

Lost in thought, I feel the weight of someone’s gaze. I look up, my breath catching as I lock eyes with Knox from across the room. His expression is unreadable, those eyes giving nothing away. But there’s a hint of warmth and kindness that hasn’t been present before.

It’s like the win has salved something within him, tamed the beast, even for a moment.

It’s the same look I’d felt myself giving him when he’d been smashed in the face with an elbow during the fight. It had been like watching a lion surrounded by a pack of hyenas, noble and proud, and no matter how much he grated on me and how much I wanted to get under his skin, I’d been worried.

But he’d emerged from the fight, head high and proud.

Neither of us looks away. The sounds of celebration fade into the background. The air between us feels charged, crackling with tension. He looks me up and down, and I suddenly feel very… naked … under his gaze, which feels like it bores through my dress like a laser beam.

I don’t have to look very hard to see most of him naked, either.

And, whew, the pictures come second to the real thing, put it that way.

I realize something has shifted. The Carter Knox staring back at me isn’t the same man I’d rattled over the past few days. He’s found his footing again, regained that infuriating composure that had driven me up the wall during our first meeting, rattling my composure.

After what feels like an eternity, I break first. I tear my eyes away, focusing intently on my notebook, as if it holds the secrets of the universe. My cheeks burn, and I silently curse myself for letting him get to me like this. Suddenly, a hell of a lot of the confidence I’d regained over the last few days is gone.

I’ve already filed my story. It’s a puff piece, really, about the dynamics on the team, some of the most popular figures, the long stretch in the doldrums followed by the stirring win. But my mind is already racing ahead to the next one.

And it has to be about him.

I’ve proven that I can get under his skin, that I can work around him if I need to. But that approach will only get me so far. No, for my next piece, I need to find a way past that carefully constructed facade of his. To get inside and really understand what makes Knox tick.

The challenge both frightens and exhilarates me.