Read The Definition of Icing: A Dallas Demons Hockey Romance (Dallas Demons Series) for Free Online Page A

met Nate.
    But he’ll never know that.
    He suddenly exhales. “Shit, I feel like an ass.”
    “No, no, please don’t,” I say, now feeling guilty for my revision of the truth. “I wasn’t very clear on my intention.”
    “But here you are, simply trying to be nice and grateful, and I pull a complete neutral zone trap on you,” he says, shaking his head.
    “What?” I ask.
    Nate grins sheepishly. “Sorry. I drift into hockey speak too much. But I went on defense with you when I didn’t have to.”
    Oh, if you only knew how you did have to pull a neutral whatever on me, I think as guilt swirls inside of me.
    “Please, no more apologies,” I say.
    “Well, regardless, I’m sorry I overreacted,” Nate says. He clears his throat before speaking. “I’ve had a rough year personally, and that kind of reared its head when I was with you last week.”
    He’s talking about someone who hurt him. I instinctively know he is. A haunted expression shifts into his eyes, one I know all too well. That’s why he threw up that defensive wall with me so fast. Nate wants to be disconnected from women. And if I understand anything, it’s that. Because that’s how I felt when I found out Chase was a big fraud who never loved me—
    “So, can you forgive me?” Nate asks.
    “Nothing to forgive,” I say honestly. “Now can we quit talking about this and move on to a matter of substance?” I say, smiling easily at him.
    “Oh, we have a matter of substance to discuss?” he asks, laughing. “Well, by all means. Fire away.”
    I love the glint that is in his eyes right now. The haunted expression has disappeared, and a light is back in them.
    “We obviously need to get drinks,” I say, “so we can toast to friendship. ”
    A slow, sexy grin spreads across his face, and I find my heart fluttering in response. Okay, we’re about to be friends. But there’s no woman alive who wouldn’t respond to that smile, so I’m going to let myself enjoy it.
    And that’s the theory I’m rolling with tonight.
    “Friendship. A monumental occasion to toast,” Nate says.
    “You only get a first friendship toast once,” I say.
    “So we need to nail this.”
    “It’s of critical importance.”
    Nate grazes his fingertips along his jawline in that oh-so-sexy way he has, and I amend my second theory to include drooling over that move in addition to his smile.
    “Okay. I’ll be right back.”
    Nate then heads into the house, and my head is spinning from what just happened. I’m going to be friends with Nate. I know he’s not interested in me, and I also know something happened in his past that has wounded him. And even though I don’t know any of the details, my instinct tells me he’s closed off to protect himself from future heartache.
    I understand why Nate’s walled up. Because I did the same thing after my break-up .
    Until I met him.
    The patio door opens, and Nate returns with a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands.
    “Watching those two in the kitchen is like watching a cooking show,” Nate says, smiling at me. “Harrison instructs and Kylie’s the sous chef.”
    “So do you watch cooking shows on TV, Nate?” I tease. “Is that your reference point for that comment?”
    “I do,” Nate says, setting down the bottle of wine and glasses on the countertop between us. “I’m down with any show with a grill in it.”
    I smile. I can see that. Nate seems like a grilling kind of guy.
    “Now, on to more important matters,” Nate says. “I have selected a syrah. So it’ll go with the grilled bison, as well as dishes that have chocolate as an ingredient in them. Isn’t that right?”
    I pause for a moment. “Wait . . . that’s on my website,” I say, shocked. “That’s in my article on how to pair wines with dishes using chocolate as an ingredient.”
    “It is, isn’t it?” Nate says, uncorking the wine.
    “You went to my website?” I ask. And despite knowing all the rules in place here, butterflies