Ice on Wheels Page 2

  “They were really cute.”

  Riley shook off the flash of anger that came every time she thought of Jason. “Thanks. They’re good kids.”

  A couple members of her team waved at her. She had a feeling they weren’t waiting until tomorrow to hit Bourbon Street. She excused herself and went over to wish them a good night. Aunty Maim tried to cajole her into joining them, but she resisted. Not that she had a problem with a night of rowdy drinking, but she was starting to feel as if she’d outgrown it, a fact that managed to be both comforting and alarming.

  The crowd started to disperse. Riley couldn’t help but scan the bar once more for the antisocial Femme Fatal, but she was nowhere to be seen. Riley shrugged. It wasn’t like she’d ever see her again.

  Chapter Two

  Four months later

  Brooke finished lacing her skates and pushed herself off the bench. She’d only been completely off the rink for a few weeks, but it felt like a lot longer. She missed it. The slick slide of concrete underfoot, the way her limbs settled into the stride of skating. She did a few laps before returning to the bench to chat with her teammates.

  She’d stayed in touch with most of them during the brief off-season, working out together when they could, grabbing drinks or the occasional dinner as schedules allowed. But there was no substitute for the camaraderie of practicing together. It had taken her a long time to get comfortable, but her teammates were like family, and this was their living room.

  “You been keeping in shape?” Hits asked as she pulled on her own skates.

  The jab was part of their usual banter. Hits was a gym rat and teased Brooke pretty hard about hating, and therefore refusing to set foot in, any gym.

  “Do I need to out-plank you again to prove that I have?”

  Hits lifted both hands in a show of concession. She’d challenged Brooke last season and had been bested. “No, no. I learned my lesson.”

  Brooke smirked. “Good, because I’d hate to embarrass you. Again.”

  Hits chuckled. “Glad to see you’re in top form, Femme.”

  She couldn’t tell whether Hits was talking about her physical shape or the caliber of her comebacks. Not that it mattered. She prided herself on both.

  “How’s everybody doing?” Tracy yelled the greeting, signaling the official start of practice.

  Brooke snagged her usual spot, sitting on the ground at the front of the group so she could stretch during the announcements and pep talk. Tracy welcomed everyone back and did a quick recap of the last season. The sting of defeat had mostly faded, and everyone had settled into the accomplishment of finishing second in the state. She felt good about that, too, even if the final moments of that bout remained etched in her brain and could rile her up on a second’s notice if she let it.

  Tracy moved on to introducing new members of the team. Brooke had missed tryouts to do an open house for a client, so she was looking forward to seeing the fresh meat in action. Chances were, none of them would make the varsity squad this season, but it was still nice to see who’d be working their way up the ranks. It made her nostalgic for her early days. She’d been awkward and completely lacking in grace at first, not to mention way too timid. But she’d learned quick and taken the spirit of derby to heart, becoming more assertive in her personal life as much as on skates. It had been hard work, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

  “And last but not least, we have a transfer joining us from the reigning state champion Cajun Queens. Please give a Big Easy Bruiser welcome to Riley Fauchet, or as you may know her, Moby Dyke.”

  Brooke froze. It couldn’t possibly be. But as she followed the gazes of her teammates to the back row, she already knew it most certainly could.

  Riley raised a hand in greeting. She’d been a little nervous about joining the ranks of the Big Easy Bruisers after the way last season ended, but she didn’t have a lot of choice. Moving to New Orleans to help her newly divorced sister meant joining a new team or giving up derby. And she wasn’t about to give up derby.

  Tracy continued, “Moby has four years of skating with the Queens, three of it on their A squad. And anyone who was at last year’s championship bout knows her blocking skills are second to none.”

  There were a couple of groans and a few laughs, followed by applause. Exactly what she’d hoped for. Yes, she’d played a role in defeating this team, but now she was on their side. It was a relief that most of them got that and seemed glad to have her.

  She braved a look at Femme Fatal, the jammer who’d completely dismissed her when she’d tried to make nice. If she’d been frosty then, today it looked like she might spontaneously combust. Her cheeks were flushed, and the expression on her face was pure rage. Great.

  Before she could really analyze it or contemplate what to do about it, Tracy put them on warm-up laps. That was followed by sprints and some basic drills. Not unlike practices back home. Despite the newness of the space and all the people in it, the routine proved comforting and made her feel welcome.

  When they shifted to the heart of practice—mock jams and specific blocking strategies—she followed along and tried to learn the ins and outs of working in a new pack. She had some ideas already but knew better than to stir things up at her first practice. She might have a solid reputation, but she still needed to prove herself as a skater and also as a member of this team.

  She held back some, as she would in any practice. No point risking injury to herself or anyone else before the first bout. She took her spot in a wall, managed a few good hip checks. She even let Femme through a couple of times as sort of a goodwill offering. Femme still wouldn’t make eye contact with her, but she didn’t storm off in a huff. That, she supposed, counted as progress.

  When practice ended, several of her new teammates surrounded her. They offered words of welcome and encouragement. There was a bit of ribbing about enemy infiltration, but it was all good-natured. She offered assurances of her loyalty and promised to share whatever secrets she had. She even scored an invitation to drinks.

  She pulled off her skates and stowed her gear, looking for Femme. They should talk, try to clear the air. Otherwise, it was going to make for a tense season. And while she couldn’t speak for anyone but herself, the whole point of derby was working off tension, not the other way around.

  Riley spied her off to the side in what appeared to be a heated conversation with Tracy, the coach. They could have been talking about anything, but she got the immediate impression they were arguing about her. Ugh. Maybe it was going to be a tense season after all.

  * * *

  “You don’t think maybe you should have told me?”

  Tracy had the good sense to look sheepish. “I never run transfers by the team. It’s standard practice to let established players switch teams if they relocate.”

  “But there’s a history.” One that still haunted her.

  “Brooke, try to look at it objectively. If it hadn’t been you she took out, you’d be thrilled to have a blocker from a championship team join the squad.”

  But it had been her. And it felt really fucking personal. And even if part of her rational brain might see how it could be otherwise, her gut didn’t. Her ego sure as hell didn’t. “You should have told me. I was completely blindsided.”

  Tracy winced. “Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry about that.”

  “Thank you.” She might still be mad, but she wasn’t in the business of making enemies.

  “No hard feelings?”

  She wasn’t ready to go that far. “I’m working on it.”

  “Let me buy you a beer. That makes everything better.”

  Drinks after the first practice of the season was a tradition. As much as she didn’t want to be in the same room as Riley, she refused to let her presence drive her away. Or create a rift between her and her other teammates. It might not be a popularity contest, but there was no way she was giving up ground to Riley. “I think you probably owe me two.”

  Tracy smil
ed, relief evident on her face. “Deal.”

  She packed up her gear and tried to find some calm headspace. She and Tracy were the last to leave, so they locked everything up and headed to their respective cars.

  At the bar, the dozen or so members of the team who could make it broke into smaller groups. One of her favorite things about her team was that it wasn’t cliquey at all. A few people had close friendships, but everyone talked to everyone else, and you never knew what would unfold or with whom. Riley’s presence threw all of that into disarray. Brooke found herself actively avoiding any conversations she was part of, a strategy that proved tricky since she seemed to work the crowd like a politician.

  It was annoying. It was ingratiating. It was—

  “Hey.”

  Brooke spun around and found herself face-to-face with the woman she’d spent her whole evening trying to avoid. “Hey.”

  “We never got the chance to officially meet. I’m Riley.” Riley stuck out her hand.

  “Brooke.” She reluctantly shook it. “But we mostly go by our derby names.”

  Riley offered a smile that was way more charming than it had any right to be. “Of course. I just like knowing everyone’s real names. Feels friendlier that way, more personal.”

  “Sure.” Even though the last thing she wanted to do was get friendly, or personal, with Moby Dyke.

  Riley angled her head. “You seemed surprised to see me tonight. Did you not know I was joining the Bruisers?”

  She didn’t want to throw Tracy under the bus, even if she was still a tiny bit mad at her. “I missed tryouts, so I must have missed the announcement then.”

  Riley nodded slowly. “Ah. I hope the dust has settled enough on last season that there aren’t any hard feelings.”

  Oh, there were hard feelings all right. Lots of them. “Of course not.”

  Her face must not have matched her words because Riley looked far from convinced. But after a moment she offered a smile and clinked her beer bottle to Brooke’s. “Excellent.”

  Brooke bit her tongue to keep herself from saying what she really wanted, which contained probably a few too many expletives and a detailed description of how much she loathed everything about this arrangement.

  “I feel really lucky to be able to transfer to such a good team. I don’t think I could ask for better.”

  Brooke smiled. Did she have to be a suck-up on top of everything else? She glanced around, desperate for an escape.

  “So, what do you do?”

  Seriously? Was this woman seriously going to stand there, looking both ridiculously hot and completely relaxed, making small talk? “I’m a real estate agent.”

  Riley narrowed her eyes like Brooke had just announced she was a pet psychic. “Really?”

  She took a deep breath and tried not to roll her eyes. “Why do you seem so surprised?”

  Riley looked at Brooke and tried to decide how to answer. If it was anyone else, she might make a joke. Hell, if it was anyone else who was half as good-looking as Brooke, she’d find a way to make it flirtatious. But she got the feeling either approach would fall flat, if not earn her a black eye. She decided to keep it simple. “I am, too.”

  It was Brooke’s turn to look surprised. “You are?”

  Riley chuckled. At this point, how could she not? “Yeah. What are the chances?”

  “What are you two laughing about?” Hits offered Riley a nod of greeting, then looked at Brooke.

  Brooke glowered. Riley couldn’t decide if it made her feel better or worse that Brooke seemed to be a little nasty to everyone. Since Brooke showed no sign of answering, she decided she might as well. “We just discovered we’re in the same line of work.”

  Hits raised a brow and looked at Brooke as though seeking confirmation. Brooke shrugged. “So it would seem.”

  “That’s awesome.” She elbowed Brooke. “You can help Moby learn the area.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she’ll get everything she needs from her office. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to chat with Tracy about the schedule.”

  Brooke walked away and made a beeline to where Tracy stood chatting with a couple of the new recruits. At least Riley thought they were new recruits. She was good with names, but it would take her a couple of practices to learn everyone’s, especially if she went for real names as well as derby ones. She turned her attention to Hits. “She really doesn’t like me, does she?”

  Hits shrugged. “Well, she takes a little while to warm up.”

  Forget warming up. She’d take anything even remotely resembling a thaw. “You’re just saying that to be nice, aren’t you?”

  Hits smirked and clinked her beer bottle to Riley’s. “You’re going to do all right, Moby.”

  She had no idea whether the comment referred to her place on the team or her attempt to make friends with Brooke. At this point, she’d just as soon not have either of those things ruled out. She lifted her bottle in response. “I’ll drink to that.”

  Chapter Three

  Brooke slept like the dead—she always did after practice—but still woke up in a foul mood. The iced coffee from PJ’s helped some, as did the prospect of meeting with three potential clients over the course of the day. She got to the office early and managed to snag twenty minutes with Cassie before any of the other agents pounced. They’d just put the final details on the open house she’d scheduled for Saturday when Pam emerged from her office.

  “Everyone, I have an announcement.”

  She glanced at Cassie, rolling her eyes but smiling. As managing broker, Pam liked making big announcements even though there were rarely more than four or five agents in the office at any one time. Cassie and Brooke stood and moved to the doorway of Brooke’s office. Indulging Pam kept her happy, and a happy Pam meant a happy office.

  “We have a new member of our team joining us from the Acadiana branch. She’s just relocated to be closer to family.” She took a step to the side, revealing the person who’d emerged from the office with her. Brooke blinked, disbelief quickly giving way to dread.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” It couldn’t be, but it was. Just like at practice. Brooke closed her eyes for a second and shook her head.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Cassie asked.

  Brooke opened one eye, then the other. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a figment of her imagination. Or a case of mistaken identity. Or any other thing she could think of that would make the person standing across the office anyone but Riley Fauchet. “Nothing.”

  She looked away to avoid any chance of eye contact and found Cassie studying her with a look of exasperation. “Well, clearly that’s not true, or you wouldn’t be cussing at work.”

  Brooke laughed in spite of herself. Despite being twenty-three, Cassie was a total prude. Not a prude. Proper. Like what Brooke would be if her mawmaw’s Catholic upbringing had stuck. “I know her.”

  Cassie angled her head in Riley’s direction. “Her? The new agent? How? Oh my gosh. Did you sleep with her?”

  Why did Cassie assume knowing someone and not liking them meant they’d slept together? Aside, perhaps, from the fact that Riley was exactly the kind of woman she’d sleep with if everything about the situation was different. “Jesus Christ. No. And keep your voice down.”

  Cassie frowned, although it was hard to know if it stemmed from being scolded or Brooke’s use of Jesus Christ in a less than reverent way. “How do you know her?”

  Pam was making her way around the room with Riley, doing personal introductions. Riley smiled and shook hands, looking easy and relaxed. There was no way to escape without drawing even more attention to herself. What a fucking disaster.

  “Remember the bout last September, the last one of the season?” Cassie had come with her girlfriend at the time. They hadn’t lasted, but Audrey had joined their JV squad and was showing real promise.

  “The one where that blocker took you out in the final seconds and cost you the whole championship?”

  Even th
ough she’d been the one to bring it up, the description still stung. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

  “What about it?”

  “She’s the one who laid me out.” The memory remained as fresh as the day it happened. The bruise on her hip had faded. She wanted to say the same for her ego, but it didn’t mean she had any intentions of forgiving or forgetting.

  “Oh.” Cassie drew the word out, understanding growing with each added second.

  “And now she’s on my team.”

  “Wait. What? What do you mean?”

  Brooke stole another glance at Riley. She’d either not noticed her or was playing it exceedingly cool. Both possibilities irritated her. “She showed up at practice last night as a transfer. She moved here from Lafayette.”

  Another “Oh,” this one even more drawn out than the first.

  “And of all the fucking offices in the entire fucking city, she has to show up at mine.”

  “Brooke.”

  Apparently, that was one too many fucks. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I mean, I get why you’re mad. I wouldn’t want to have to work with her, either.”

  Understatement of the century. But before she could process it any further, Pam and Riley were right there in front of her. “This is Cassie Sanchez, our rock star receptionist and queen of details, and Brooke Landry, one of our very best agents. Ladies, Riley Fauchet.”

  Riley shook Cassie’s hand before turning her attention to Brooke. Her smile might have been sincere, but it looked to Brooke like a self-satisfied smirk. “Well, hello again.”

  “I’m sorry. Do you two already know each other?” Pam asked.

  “Something like that.” Riley extended her hand, all laid-back charm. So infuriating.

  Brooke couldn’t refuse it without looking rude. “We’ve met.”