Rinkmates: A steamy Hockey Romance (The Mates series Book 1)

According to my mom, God places strangers in our lives to get us to higher places.

What if, in my case, the stranger will get me in a basement? Killed?

I may be dramatic, but those are exactly the kind of thoughts I have while mentally slapping myself right and left for agreeing to rent a place through Instagram. Who does this?

It’s dangerous.

Stupidly dangerous.

I haven’t been online in like five fucking years, but since I couldn’t find a place I could afford in New York, I posted on my story asking if anyone knew of a shoe box I could live in. Stupid, I know. And just like someone unscrewed my lightbulb, I agreed to meet with the first person who seemed halfway nice and real.

Desperate times and all…

My hand clenches around the old luggage next to me. It reaches up to my hip. It seems big but it’s actually all I have and I’m not even exaggerating. My suitcase contains my entire life within its twenty-seven-to-thirty-two-inch confines.

Yes, I’m so broke that I’m still standing right where the airport shuttle bus spit me out, waiting for someone I’ve only FaceTimed with once.

A girl named Nina.

What if this Nina doesn’t even exist?

What if someone catfished me and I’m meeting with a Sven. Or a Brutus. Or—

“Hey, Liora!” a voice rings out and I jerk up. “Liiiiiiiooooora!”

My attention is drawn to the noisy source, and I see Nina, full of bubbly energy, breaking through my panic dream like a ray of sunshine.

I glance around again, fully aware everyone at this busy train station now knows my name. Hi, New York. This is me. Liora James. The girl who quit the Olympics even though she was running for gold.

With each click of her heels on the pavement, Nina sprints toward me, evading the pedestrians as if she were the police chasing a burglar. Oh my.

Her face lights up with an apologetic smile, holding a frappuccino that looks like it has been through a hurricane. The trail of evidence behind her is a sticky brown disaster zone. “Oh my goodness,” she gasps between breaths as she comes to a halt.

Her frame casts a shadow over mine by a solid three inches. “I’m so sorry for being late, hon. You know how New York can be.”

I blink at her but muster up a grin. No, I don’t know how New York can be, but I see a lot of cars and busy traffic, so I imagine it’s easy to get late.

“Are you ready to see the apartment?” Nina’s excitement bubbles over, her smile lighting up the gray space around us. I try to mirror it, but my stomach churns with nerves. The TV show I’m auditioning for today could be a life changer, but now that it’s actually happening, I’m terrified. Nina has been nothing but supportive since I explained why I needed to move to New York, which is why I agreed to stay with her for six months. Her spare room is a godsend.

And she’s definitely no Sven or Brutus.

“Sure. Thanks for picking me up again, I’m a total country bumpkin.” Not gonna lie, all these people and the constant car honking and the noise are already getting to me.

“No problem, I’m your personal city ranger!”

We head toward the subway, and I relax a little. I’m relieved to find she’s just as warm and genuine in person as she is through the screen.

Nina slurps her frappuccino and chats about the habits of true New Yorkers all the way to the subway station. She even had a MetroCard ready for me, and I think it might be easy to be friends with Nina. She seems like the type of person everyone likes. I’m not. Back home in Orlando, I don’t have many friends aside from my mom and good ol’ Dan. Our eighty-year-old neighbor.

“How was the flight?”

“Good, I mostly slept through it.” I had to wake up so early, I felt like a complete zombie. On top of that, I haven’t flown in years, which just added to my jittery nerves. With the casting happening today, I’m basically running on autopilot.

“I’m sooo jelly of your skills, girl,” Nina says as we perch on the subway seats, my luggage wedged between my legs. “I once tried figure skating, but my legs aren’t cut out for it. My feet always twist, and then my ligaments tear. Don’t even ask.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I started working as an assistant for hockey players, so it all worked out. I still get to skate for free on my days off.”

My eyes practically pop out of my head. “No rink fee?” I’m floored. Typically, a single public skate session can cost up to twenty-five dollars per day.

“The apartment is near Chelsea Piers. It’s just a five-minute walk and we’ve got some free tickets to spare from the team, so you can practice as much as you want! That’s the perk of working for a hockey player.” She winks at me.

I remind myself I’m human and need to breathe. This just seems too good to be true. An apartment with an actual roof and…a rink? “Which team do you work for?”

She looks at me as if I should know this. “Um, the Falcons?”

Damn. I suppose I should have remembered, but with my hectic work schedule, things tend to slip my mind. Plus, I have a bad habit of quickly scanning through messages without fully absorbing the information. I guess that happens to your brain when you work three jobs. “Oh, my bad. I think I mixed something up from our messages.”

“It’s okay. Not everyone is into hockey or knows all the players.”

My face splits into a wide grin as I realize she works for one of the most famous hockey teams in the damn league. Like, seriously?

It’s then I notice posters of their star players plastered all over the train. I resist the urge to roll my eyes and focus on one player in particular. The one with chin-length black hair and the fucking perfect, toothpaste smile. I know him from somewhere. I guess he came up on my For You Page a few times, punching around like a little kid who didn’t get his candy. He’s flanked by two other handsome players. Buzz Cut and Maroon Man Bun. They’re all probably just as cocky and douchey as they look. I mean, have you ever met a humble hockey player?

Nina nervously fidgets with her fingers, her voice quivering as she asks, “You…you don’t like hockey?”

“Not really. I mean, I used to watch some games back in the day, but men who trash bars on a regular basis aren’t exactly my type.” No thank you.

Her lips twist into a grimace, but she regains her composure in a matter of seconds.

“Oh, let’s see if we can make this work then,” she says.

I mentally kick myself for my thoughtless comment about her favorite sport. Shit. She’s going to be my roommate. I should be nice. What is wrong with me? It’s clear I have lost touch with polite interactions after years of dealing with my trailer park boys and cranky customers while working bars and restaurants. I make a mental note to work on my social skills.

“Sorry,” I add quickly. “My last experience wasn’t the best. You know, sharing the rink and all.” I let out an uncomfortable chuckle, and she responds with a similar awkward smile.

The train jolts and screeches as we sit side by side, avoiding the topic of skating or hockey entirely. On the way to her apartment, we talk about our favorite food and we actually have something in common. We both love sushi, so that’s something, right? I think rooming with her could work. Food connects after all.

Eventually, Nina leads me to a luxurious complex I immediately try to pass by. But she stops me with a pointed cough and gestures excitedly to the building.

I’m not sure what she expects from me, especially since she knows I don’t have much time for sightseeing. I need to be ready in an hour.

“This is it!” she exclaims, throwing her arms up in the air. “Home sweet home!”

My heart does a nervous pirouette. What the actual— “This is…the…apartment?”

Nina nods, smiling brightly.

I take another look, and my eyes keep going up. The building basically looms over me, all sleek and modern, with massive floor-to-ceiling windows showing off nothing but wealth. My internal warning sirens blare again.

“Um, I don’t think I fit in here.” I pull the white cardigan over my blue leggings, suddenly feeling all too self-aware. It looks perfect, too perfect for someone like me with a budget stretched thinner than ice in spring.

“No, it’s okay. Believe me.” Nina takes me by the arm, nudging me to the entrance.

I stumble after her, as if she’s going to throw me in a beehive. But she can’t be serious. She told me she’d have a wonderful, totally affordable apartment for me. Apparently less than seven hundred dollars per month. I should have known this was gonna be a scam. This isn’t a cheap-ass apartment, it’s the kind with a fancy doorman and gleaming golden initials above the entrance.

I stop in my tracks.

“Nina,” I protest. “These apartments must cost a fortune…I can’t afford to live here.” My heart sinks at the thought of having to search for something else. I thought I was all set. Sure, I’ve got three other places lined up because I’m not dumb enough to come here without backup plans B, C, and D, but I was really hoping—praying, even—that this would be the one. Just for once, I wanted to turn those thousands of lemons into lemonade.

She comes to a halt in front of the revolving door. “Liora, it’s fine. Money isn’t an issue at all. Trust me. Just check it out, and if it really isn’t for you, I’ll let you go, okay?”

I blink at her. And blink again. My gut says don’t trust her. It actually screams at me to run. How could I trust her? An apartment in this area? For me? No way.

“It will be fine,” she repeats, dragging out the fine. “Look, we even have a doorman here, he’d never say yes to trouble, right, Attie? We’re all nice people here.”

She beams at the red-haired porter. His face lights up like a Christmas tree covered in freckles. The blazing sun seems to have a vendetta against him, turning his ginger locks into a beacon of light and giving him the complexion of a tomato. But I guess he couldn’t care less, because he’s flashing a grin that makes my alarm bells snooze away a little. “I ensure that only decent individuals are allowed inside this place. Anyone who shouldn’t be here won’t get past me. I promise, Miss.”

“Perfect, thank you, Attie. This is Liora James, by the way. She’s joining us. Maybe.”

Attie smiles and nods at me. “We’d be thrilled to have you, Miss James.”

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

I just stand there, staring as if I’ve forgotten how to speak.

Their eyes are fixed on me, probably already sensing that something’s off. I want to speak, to say anything, but I’m completely stunned. And when you’re stunned, you’re speechless—or at least, I am.

“Um, th-thank you?” is all I manage to say. Nina has a doorman. Holy shit.

As we enter, I strain my neck trying to take in the opulent ceiling of the fancy building.

The walls are covered with Italian Renaissance–esque paintings.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

This can’t be real, but Attie is just like a security man, so if Nina planned to sell me to a mafia boss and ship me across the world, he wouldn’t play along, would he? Oh boy. I should stop reading mafia romance novels. I’m getting delusional.

“Come on, you look like you’re going to faint,” Nina says and motions to an elevator. “You’ll love it.”

We enter, and she takes me right up to the top with a…secret key. I swallow. She has a secret penthouse key. And I think I’m actually fainting. Or puking. Something along those lines. I thought she was taking me to a ramshackle house. I never thought she’d bring me…here. I had braced myself for a filthy rug and creaky floors. Maybe even a cat to add to the expected musty smell.

“A-a…penthouse?”

“Well, Riley loves to be alone most of the time.”

“Um…okay.” I recall that she talked about another friend living there. But she’s busy and away most of the time, or something like that.

When Nina unlocks the door to reveal a spacious living area bathed in the soft glow of afternoon sunlight, I actually gasp. I’m 100 percent sure she’s going to introduce me to a Russian don now and this is my last day. Fuck me. I should know better than to trust random people over the internet. Just because it’s a woman, doesn’t mean I’m safe. Women can be snakes. This is my last day on Earth, and—

“Riley? Where are you?” Nina sighs and curses, as if mentioning any ordinary roommate. But anyone living in this kind of space couldn’t be ordinary. Why would anyone who lives in such a place be in need of a roommate? Nina and Riley must be rich as fuck. They don’t need me.

Nina slams the keys onto a white cupboard, causing my jaw to drop once more or possibly just remain hanging open—I am not aware of its current position. I just—I’m downright shocked. This apartment is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I wander around in a daze.

The floor-to-ceiling windows flood the space with natural light, illuminating the sleek, contemporary decor around me. It’s an open-concept layout with the living area seamlessly flowing into the dining space and kitchen. It’s all white, black, and gray. I practically stumble over nothing to the expansive views of the city skyline, feeling humbled by the towering skyscrapers and the vastness of the urban landscape below. I think a little screech left my lips. At least, I hope it was little.

This is insane. The kitchen itself is bigger than my trailer…

I’m struck by the attention to detail, from the elegant artwork adorning the walls to the luxurious finishes throughout the apartment. And then I spot various hockey trophies and some pictures of…and more pictures of…I gulp.

Hell no.

My heart drops into my pants.

What’s his name again…

Oh no. There’s this really funny feeling in the pit of my stomach now.

This can’t be true.

“Um, Nina? Riley is a girl, right?” I ask, trying to keep my voice level as I turn to face her.

“Who says I am?” a dark voice rises behind me.

I jerk around.

First I see the shadow, and then I look up and up and up and see him. Him.

Not just anyone, but Riley fucking Huntington—the Riley Huntington. The sexiest hockey player alive, whose face graces billboards and magazine covers.

I think TikTok wouldn’t have much content without him. Even the damn subway we just rode was practically covered in his face.

Now he stands right before me and his presence fills the room like a storm cloud rolling in, and just like that, the air feels oh so charged. I don’t smell cats. No. I smell sandalwood. Amber. Musk. All kinds of alluring smells.

I swear I can’t breathe anymore.

This is it. I’m done.

Thank you for all the months I was granted to live on this planet. But rest in peace, Liora.

“You’re suddenly mute?” Riley says.

I stupidly shake my head, trying to ground myself as I stare at him like a guppy.

Nina wants me to room with him?

She said it would be a piece of cake.

But there’s nothing easy about being around him. I mean, he’s got a nasty lawsuit on his hands, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Nothing simple about that situation.

But as he just stands there, I’m starting to think Nina meant he’s like a cake. A total eye-candy cake. A towering six feet, three inches of pure sexiness in gray sweatpants and a black shirt with a bold NY Falcons logo—there’s no mistaking him. I’m definitely in Riley Huntington’s penthouse.

My eyes can’t help but drop to his chiseled pecs, which seem to be making a guest appearance through his hoodie.

I find myself gripping the couch’s backrest like it’s the only thing keeping me from falling over.

Swallowing, my gaze flicks up to his tousled black hair, framing his handsome face as his intense eyes lock onto mine.

My pulse stumbles like it’s drunk.

A strange feeling passes between us as our eyes lock, almost like an electric shock. It’s fleeting, but in that moment I see a hint of…well, what was it? Hatred? As quickly as it came, it disappears and he reverts back to his stoic demeanor, but I can’t help but wonder what sparked that quick flash.

Yes, he’s breathtaking. And intimidating. So intimidating.

I know hundreds of girls will hate me for it, but I can’t do this. I can’t. I need to get out of here.

“Ri, this is Liora.” Nina tries to save the situation, but I can barely hear her over the sound of my heart crashing against my ribs. We still stare at each other, and it seems like we’re running out of time. Of what time though? I just met him. This is a bad sign.

“No,” I say, and his eyes darken.

I notice that his sleeves are rolled up and my eyes are drawn to his forearms. There are scars. And muscles. And tattoos. Lots of muscles. And tattoos. “No,” I repeat.

“No? No to what?” His head turns to Nina, who nervously bites her lips.

“We talked about things that need to change, so…” Nina taps her feet on the white marble floor. “Ethan and I had an idea, Liora is going to participate in a TV show and needs a place to crash, and you…well, you need a chaperone. So we thought she could move in for free and help us out!”

I blink at her. Um, what?

“Wait, actually, I think there’s been a mistake,” I blurt out, the words spilling out of me like a clumsy stumble. The sudden urge to fucking run hits me like a slap shot to the chest. “I thought you had a friend, a girl, who wanted me to move in with you.” I point at Nina so that it’s clear I mean her. “To take her room or whatever and, well, pay for it? You mentioned someone named Riley, but I thought it was a girl. Not…not…him,” I say, my voice tinged with disbelief. I thought this was going to be a straightforward housing arrangement. Something that normal people would do.

Nina’s lips stretch into an awkward smile, her cheeks flushed. “Yeah, I might have left some things out…there’s a bit more to it. I thought I’d explain it to you two once you see each other. I thought you might say no otherwise?”

I scoff and notice Riley looking at my hand still clutching his couch. “You left out everything, Nina. I think that’s a rather nonsensical idea and I’m not a charity case.” I totally am a charity case.

“Wait, this isn’t a joke? You’re actually wanting Liora James to move in with me to play my fucking babysitter?” Riley interjects, his tone dripping with sarcasm. I have no idea why, but the sound of my name on his lips struck me like an arrow to the chest.

“Look, Liora,” Nina continues, cutting off Riley’s protests with a raised hand. I’m surprised his assistant would do something like this without him even knowing. “It’s a win-win situation for both of you. You won’t have to pay a cent—”

“Excuse me,” Riley tries again, but Nina barrels on, her words tumbling out in a rush, forcing him to shut his mouth once more.

“You get to live here, train on the rink whenever you like, and all you have to do is keep an eye on him,” she finishes, her voice laced with a hint of desperation, as if I’m her last hope. It’s ridiculous.

“‘Keep an eye on him?’” Riley and I say as if from one mouth.

“What does that even mean?” I demand, struggling to process.

“You know Riley’s reputation,” Nina says. “This could be the perfect PR coup. Everyone loved you back in the day, and once you’re on Grace on Ice, you need publicity to—”

Riley scoffs. “You shit on the Olympics for a reality show? Are you kidding?”Content from NôvelDr(a)ma.Org.

I glare at him, my nerves giving way to a surge of anger. I know him from social media, and I’ve always hated him, with his cocky attitude and his belief that he’s invincible on and off the ice. The way he flashes his stupid, handsome grin every time a camera is on him. It’s just gross. I learned the hard way to stay clear of pretty boys.

“No, I’m sorry, Nina,” I interject, my voice firm. “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t live with someone like him. Money isn’t everything in life.” I’ll sleep in a car. Whatever. But not here.

Without waiting for a response, I turn and practically sprint out the door. Nina calls after me, but I shake off her attempts to stop me. This was a mistake.

Riley Huntington is a violent prick. I can’t live with someone like him. If I wanted to live with an ass, I could go find my father. Or my ex-coach.

Just as I slam the door shut, Nina swings it back open again. I frantically jab at the elevator buttons, contemplating the merits of taking the fire stairs for a quicker exit. I just can’t believe my life.

“Nina, I—”

“Listen, I know this sounds crazy. But we really need you. He’s on the verge of ruining his career, and he needs someone to keep an eye on him when we’re not around, and you’re perfect for it.”

“That’s what therapists are for,” I mutter under my breath, silently urging the elevator to move faster. How tall is this damn building?

“It’s more complicated than that, and this arrangement could benefit you too. We’ll make sure you have everything you need. Is there something missing here, Liora?”

“Yes, a half-decent roommate. I can’t live with someone who’s prone to violent outbursts. I’d like to wake up in one piece tomorrow, thank you very much.”

“No, he’s not violent, I swear. I wouldn’t offer you this opportunity if he were. He just struggles with anger issues on the ice, but there’s so much more to him. He’s actually one of the most genuine people I know, and deep down, he’s really sweet. I promise! I wouldn’t let you run into anything dangerous. Have you ever heard of fake relationships? It’s just pretend and he’s barely at home—” The elevator chimes and I step inside, but Nina holds the door open, her expression pleading. “Look, it’s New York. Finding a safe and affordable place to stay at such short notice is nearly impossible. You could be waiting months, even years, to find something decent.”

“I’ll figure it out, thank you but no,” I reply tersely. Sleeping in a car isn’t ideal, but it beats risking getting beaten up over a trivial disagreement, like looking at him the wrong way or whatever sets off this giant man-child.

As the elevator doors start to close, Nina jams them open again, cursing under her breath. “I swear, he’s helped me through so much. He’s genuinely kind and decent. Just give him a chance. Google him if you don’t believe me.

He just loses it on the ice when rival players provoke him. It’s a guy thing.”

“Just. Yeah,” I say. “I’m sorry, Nina, but I’m the wrong girl for you.” This whole situation is absurd. I can’t blame her for not mentioning it before, as any person with an ounce of common sense would have declined her offer.

“Liora, please. Let’s get in there and talk. Get to know each other?”

“Thank you for considering me. I wish you all the best.”

Nina pushes the doors open one final time. “You’ve got my number. Call me anytime, day or night. I’ll be there to pick you up, okay? The offer still stands.”

I scoff as the elevator doors finally close. Play chaperone for Riley Huntington. A fake relationship. Sure, they’ll probably ask me to sleep with him for money next. Yeah, not a chance.