Scoring One Night (Blue Ridge Mountain Hockey #4)

Aspen

W ould Melanie show?

The ticking clock amplified my doubt. I paced nervously in my living room, glancing out the front window into the dark every other step.

"Stay cool, ," I muttered to myself, running my fingers through my dark hair in a futile attempt to tame it.

Maybe she changed her mind? Or maybe she doesn't eat dinner.

"Who doesn't eat dinner?" I questioned myself.

Just as my self-doubt began to take hold, the doorbell rang, and my heart leapt into his throat. With a deep breath, I opened the door to reveal Melanie standing there, her raven tresses cascading over her shoulders. She looked absolutely stunning in a pale pink dress that seemed to shimmer in the waning sunlight.

"Hi, ," she said softly, her piercing gray eyes meeting my own. "May I come in?"

"O-of course, please do," I stammered, stepping aside so she could get past. As she crossed the threshold, I shivered as her hair brushed over my arm.

I had thought a lot about what happened when we were almost caught a few days ago in the physical therapy room. It was risky, and it got me thinking. I wanted more from her, something real.

I had to prove to her that I was worth taking a risk for. In my head, she was worth anything that might happen to my career, but I didn’t know if she felt the same.

Now I was on a mission to prove I was boyfriend material.

"Wow, you look... amazing," I managed to say, trying to keep my voice steady. "That dress is perfect on you."

"Thank you, ," Melanie replied, her cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink that matched her dress. "That's sweet of you to say." She glanced around the room. "I have to say, your home is very nice. I bet you have a great view of the mountain up here."

"When I saw this place, I had to have it."

My house was perched on a high point of the mountain and looked like a large cabin from the outside. But the interior was modern and sleek, with large windows showcasing the panoramic view of the mountain range outside.

I led her through the living room, doing my best to focus on the task at hand and not get lost in her eyes. My heart pounded with each step we took, and I wondered if she could hear it.

"Here we are," I announced as we entered the dining area. I had spent hours setting up a cozy table for two, complete with candles and soft music playing in the background. Even with Emmanuel mad at me, I asked his advice about cooking for a woman. Surprisingly, that got him to cool off. He wanted to help me. I didn’t specify who I was cooking for, but he told me to keep it simple but make the surrounding as intimate as possible. So that's what I did.

I'd even managed to dig out my grandmother's vintage tablecloth—a small touch that I hoped would make the evening feel extra special.

"Wow, this looks amazing!" Melanie exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise. "You really went all out, didn't you?"

"Only the best for you," I replied with a wink, pulling out her chair so she could take a seat. As she did so, I caught a whiff of her perfume—a subtle scent that seemed to wrap itself around me like a warm, inviting embrace.

"Are those... hockey stick-shaped candles?" she asked, stifling a giggle.

"Yup," I admitted with a grin, feeling my cheeks heat up. "You know me, always finding ways to bring hockey into everything."

I went into the kitchen to grab the food.

"Wow, that's quite a view. Is that Castle Ridge down there?" Melanie called out to me.

With the flicker of hockey candles casting a warm glow over the table, I carefully placed the plates of homemade hamburgers and seasoned French fries in front of Melanie.

"Yes, it's one of the reasons I bought the place. It overlooks my hometown." Her eyes flicked from the food to me, her expression unreadable. "I hope you like it," I said, trying to keep the nervousness out of my voice.

"Of course I will, . It smells delicious," she replied, offering me an appreciative smile. We both dug into our meals, and I smiled when I heard her satisfied moan as she bit into her burger.

"Did you know ketchup was once considered a medicine?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood with some random trivia as I squeezed the condiment onto my plate.

"Really?" Melanie asked, quirking an eyebrow. "How did that work?"

"Apparently, in the 1800s, they thought tomatoes had healing properties. Turns out, they were right about their health benefits, just not in the way they thought." I grinned, taking a bite of my burger. "So technically, we're eating a very healthy meal."

She shook her head slightly. "Perhaps."

As we continued eating, I tried to engage her in conversation about hockey and the physical therapy I needed for the game coming up, but something was off. Melanie's responses seemed distant, her gaze often wandering away from mine. She seemed more interested in eating than talking to me.

Concern gnawed at me as I wondered what could be bothering her.

The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow on Melanie's face, highlighting the gentle curve of her cheeks and the hint of worry in her eyes. I couldn't help but feel my excitement turn to confusion as she picked at her food. She must not like what I made.

I sighed. That was it. Maybe she's used to something fancier, and I made something a kid would eat.

It was the only thing I knew how to cook; that and hot dogs, but I thought the burger would go over better.

"Are you sure you like the fries?" I asked, trying to inject some humor into the situation. "I mean, they're not exactly your typical romantic dinner fare, but I thought it'd be fun."

Melanie offered a small smile, the corners of her mouth barely lifting. "No, they're great, . Really, I appreciate the effort you put into this."

"Alright then," I said, taking a deep breath and mustering up the courage to address what was really bothering me. "So, what's going on? You seem... distracted."

"Okay," she said finally, exhaling as if the very act of saying that one word took all the strength she had left. ", we need to end... whatever this is between us."

"End it?" That came out like a squeak, as if someone had just yanked the air out of me. "You mean our... friends-with-benefits arrangement?"

She nodded, her eyes still avoiding mine. "Yeah. That."

My heart sank to the floor. Here I was, trying to prove to her that we could be more, to be romantic, and she wanted it all to end.

"Is there something wrong? Did I do something?" My mind raced through every possible scenario that could have led to this conversation, but none seemed to fit.

"No, ." She met my gaze at last, her gray eyes filled with a mix of sadness and determination. "It's not you. It's just... this isn't working for me anymore."

An uncomfortable silence fell over us like a thick fog. "But why? We've been having fun together, haven't we?"

"Yes and... no," she admitted, her voice softening. "What happened in the physical therapy room… that was so close."

"It was, you're right. And I promise it won’t happen again," I said, my heart racing in my chest.

"Let's say you're right. Let's say we keep it professional. I can't talk to my friends about my personal life for fear they may say something to other players on the team."

I waved my hand around the table. "That's what this is. To show you that we can be more than just fuck buddies. I want us to be more."

She frowned and scooted her chair back. "And what if I don't?"

"What?" I managed to ask, struggling to keep my voice steady.

That couldn't be true. The woman who cried out my name and laughed when I made a stupid joke, that woman had to care. Right?

"What about you? Your friends are hockey players. I bet you aren't happy that you can't talk to them about us, right?"

She was right; it was difficult, but I'd do it for her.

"At some point we can tell them. We can work on that together—"

"What happens if the Devils find out you've been sleeping with me? Will you get fired?" she asked as she stared at me.

"No, but my contract could be terminated."

She raised her brow. "Do you really think the Devils would terminate one of their best player's contract over a fling? I mean, you've done some crazy things while being with the Devils and they haven't terminated your contract yet."

I was silent as I realized what she was saying. My career would be fine; the most that would happen would be a fine or I'd have to sit out a few games. They did that in the past when I went too far.

But Melanie… she'd be fired. No sports team would ever hire her if she was let go due to being with a player.

"I see," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Look, ," Melanie sighed, "it's not that I haven't enjoyed our time together. But I realized how dangerous this was the other day, and we need to focus on what's best for both of us right now."

Her words stung like a slap to the face, and I struggled to come up with a witty retort. Instead, all that came out was a choked laugh. "What's best for both of us, huh? Who knew that meant cutting each other off completely."

"Please don't be sarcastic with me," Melanie pleaded, her voice wavering ever so slightly as she stood. "This isn't easy for me either, but I truly believe it's the right decision."

"Fine," I conceded, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"Thank you for understanding," she whispered, her eyes brimming with a mix of sadness.

The light from the flickering candles seemed to cast a halo around Melanie as I watched her rise from her chair. Her movements were graceful yet deliberate, as if each step was weighed down by an invisible burden. She looked at me with those gorgeous gray eyes, and for a moment, I thought maybe she changed her mind.

"Melanie, are you sure about this?" I asked with hope.

She offered me a small smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm sure, ."

I ran a hand through my hair, my mind racing with questions and emotions. Deep down, I knew this was a mistake. How could this be so wrong?

"Take care of yourself, ," Melanie said, her gaze lingering on me for a moment before she turned and walked to the door.

She pulled open the door and stepped out into the night, leaving me alone with the remnants of our shared laughter and dreams.

As the door closed behind her, I couldn't help but feel the weight of loss settle over me like a heavy blanket. I stared at the empty chair across from me, my heart aching for what was missing.

The silence that filled the room was deafening.

I couldn't help but chuckle bitterly as I recalled our last time together on the physical therapy table. The memory of our laughter and playful banter seemed like a distant dream now.

"Damn it," I muttered under my breath, pushing the plate away from me.

"Did you have to try for romance?" I asked myself out loud, knowing full well that nobody was around to hear my rhetorical question. "Could we not have just stuck to the friends-with-benefits plan?"

I scolded myself, feeling the familiar pang of guilt tug at my heartstrings. "You never think things through, ."