1. Emma

"Excuse me, are you lost?" I ask rudely as I walk into my father's office at the ice rink and see a younger man in business attire sitting in front of a computer.

"Emmy?"

I'm instantly transported back in time, listening to that same sexy voice breathe my name as his shaft is buried deep inside me.

The man glances up with a smirk on his gorgeous, chiseled face. His hair is jet black and his gorgeous eyes pierce through me.

Only one man has ever called me Emmy.

Drake Baron.

What in the hell is he doing here?

"What in the hell are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you that question since you rudely just walked into my office unannounced and uninvited."

His voice is like gravel and honey that deep, rough timbre that makes your knees go weak. His eyes slowly roam over my body, and I feel naked under his gaze.

Remember what it felt like that night when he looked at you like that when you were naked before him?

I raise my chin and narrow my eyes at him. "Your office? This is my father's office and has been for almost forty years."

"Ahh, I didn't recognize you without your braces and pigtails. Is that you, Emma Matthews?"

He literally just called me by name, why is he being a dick?

There's a hint of teasing in his voice. It makes me want to smack him in his chiseled jaw.

I will smack him.

How is he still such a douchebag after all these years?

I roll my eyes and take a step forward. "Don't be a jerk. Everyone in this town knows who I am. You especially know who I am."

"You're not great at first impressions, are you doll?"

"Doll? I've known you all my life, hardly a first impression."

"Yeah, doll. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," he chuckles as he leans back in my father's desk chair.

I see he hasn't come up with new material in ten years. He'll be lucky if I don't vomit all over his clean desk.

"I am not your doll."

"Calm down, Princess. It's a term of endearment, nothing for you to get upset over."

"Do not call me Princess."

"Sugar tits?" he asks, clearly enjoying himself as his green eyes glint in the light. "If I remember correctly those …"

I audibly growl as I get up in his face. "I will call the police and have you removed for trespassing and harassment."

"Can't hardly be trespassing when I own the place, sweet cheeks. Seems you're the one trespassing."

"Own the place? Am I being punked? Like douchebag, frat boy could own anything."

"No Princess, it does seem like you should call home to talk to your father more though."

I rock back as if he slapped me.

What kind of comment is that? Does he even remember my father?

"How dare you …"

"No, how dare you come into my office with an attitude. I won't stand for it. I'm not sure who you think you are, Princess, but being rude doesn't fly in my presence. Walk out that door, check your attitude in the hallway, and then come at me right or not at all."

My jaw drops open.

Why am I oddly turned on by him?

He's a douchebag, hello! Remember, he's a player. A douchebag of epic proportions. He's a jerk. Nothing has changed.

He stands and I take in all of his muscled body. His black dress pants fit him nicely, and his maroon dress shirt is snug and shows off his muscled physique. He's well over six feet tall and towers over my tiny five-foot-five frame.

He's yummy, too bad he's a jerk.

I laugh out loud and shake my head, raising my chin again as I cross my arms in front of my chest.

"I will do no such thing."

"Then I guess our conversation is over, sweetheart," he breathes as he's mere inches from me.

Without touching me he ushers me out of his office and back into the hallway. He then shuts his office door and locks it.

What just happened?

I exhale and growl at the same time.

What a jerk. How dare he?

I turn on my heel and stomp away, muttering under my breath about the audacity of Drake Baron.

Why is he so hot?

Why couldn't he have gained fifty pounds and gone bald for his sins?

This is not fair.

I look around the rink finally, taking in the new floors, and the new trophy cases. The banners that hang over the ice are new. Everything is updated and clean.

Nothing like it was the last time I was here.

I blow out a breath as I walk out of the ice rink and to my silver BMW convertible. I glance around the parking lot; I should have known my dad would sell it. I should have taken one look at the outside of the building and realized that he wouldn't take such good care of it.

The parking lot is pristine, the grounds surrounding the ice rink are well-manicured, and there have been a lot of updates to the once-dilapidated building on the outside as well. It looks like a professional hockey rink.

My alcoholic father wouldn't have had the funds to do all the necessary work on the building that was needed. I'm surprised it was updated and not just pushed in to start anew.

I climb into my car and pull out of the parking lot. I drive down the quiet streets of my hometown. It's been ten years since I've been here for more than a day. The town has grown a lot with new restaurants and stores being brought in. It is almost unrecognizable from the Podunk, rundown town I left when I turned eighteen.

I should have put Drake on the spot and asked why he ghosted me all those years ago. Shit, does he even remember sleeping with me?

Have I been pining away for a man who doesn't even remember our encounter because I'm just another notch on his bedpost?

Get over it, Emma. He is not worth your time.

I drive to the bar my father frequents, owned by my aunt and uncle. The only two members of my family I speak to. They were the picture-perfect parents I was robbed of and the only ones who supported me on my quest for the Olympics.

My father could never get sober long enough to even attend any of my events, let alone get me to practices on time.

My mother had never been around, short of her carrying me in her womb, I've never met her. My aunt and uncle, in addition to my grandparents ultimately raised me. My father could never stay sober long enough to make sure I had basic necessities.

The few times he did show up to my events he was so drunk that he had passed out or was escorted out because he would get belligerent. I'm still bitter about it.

I walk into the bar and I notice it's also had an upgrade recently. The tile floors replaced with a light grey wood, it no longer smells of urine and alcohol. It looks like an upscale establishment.

The whole town has gotten an upgrade, including my aunt's bar?

Did everyone in town go in to buy a lottery ticket and win? Where is this money coming from?

I take a step back outside and look up at the sign hanging in the window before continuing inside.

Matthew's Bar Grill … the grill part is new.

"Well, I'll be," My Aunt Susie gasps from behind the bar.

Her grey hair is in dreads and pinned on top of her head in a messy bun and her blue eyes are shining as she looks me up and down. Our smiles match as I walk toward her.

"Hey Aunt Suz," I sigh as she comes out from behind the bar and engulfs me in a warm hug.

She looks every bit the part of a hippie chick, down to the floral dress she's wearing. She pulls back and puts her hands up to my cheeks.

"It's so good to see your beautiful face. Why didn't you call and tell me you were coming?"

"Thought I'd surprise you. Or maybe I wasn't certain I would go through with it."

She pulls me into another hug.

"I'm so glad you did, I've missed you. How long are you here for? I can make up the spare bedroom. Or actually," she puts a finger up to her chin and claps her hands excitedly. "Hal just remodeled the upstairs and made a studio apartment for us to rent out as an Airbnb, you can stay there."

"Airbnb, what?"

"Yeah, cashing in on people coming for hockey games," she says dismissively. "How long are you here for?"

"Well, I … um …" I stammer, looking down at the ground.

Failure.

You can't tell this woman that you failed, she sacrificed so much for you and you're letting her down.

"Oh no, what happened?"

"Nothing. I … I retired and …"

"Finally realized that Ted was a selfish jerk?"

Ted.

My ex-boyfriend.

Ted and I met on the ice, he is also an Olympic figure skater. We made headlines as a pair when we medaled at the Olympics together and separately. Spending that much time together training and perfecting our routines required a lot of vulnerability and trust. It was only fitting that we become a couple.

We lived and breathed each other for the last three years, preparing for the next Olympic gold medal run. As soon as he found out about my career-ending injury and that I'd no longer have money coming in from sponsorships, he decided he didn't love me anymore. He's already got a new partner on the ice and in the bedroom.

Funny, how that played out.

Men suck.

"Maybe," I shrug.

"You're welcome here for as long as you'd like."

"I thought I'd come back and teach skating, maybe take over the rink and …"

"Oh dear."

"And learned that we no longer own it. Dad sold it? How selfish can he be?"

"Selfish?" she asks with a laugh. "He didn't have a choice."

"What does that mean? Did he lose it in another poker game?"

"I understand that you're upset with your dad."

"That's an understatement. He had no right to sell it without telling me. It was supposed to be mine. I put so much …"

My aunt puts her hand up in the air and shakes her head.

"You left, baby girl. You left and haven't returned. You haven't spoken to your father in years. You haven't spoken to anyone. In fact, the last time I talked to you, you stated you'd be dead before you ever came back to this ‘hellhole.'" I take a step back and inhale sharply.

"That doesn't give him the right to sell it."

"Your grandparents cited that you were to be entitled to it only if your dreams of being an Olympic skater didn't pan out, which they clearly did."

But they didn't. Or they aren't anymore. Dad always said I was a failure, turns out he was right.

"I should have been told."

"You were sent certified letters that were refused," she shrugs as she greets a group of men walking into the bar. "Have a seat, boys. I'll get you some menus in a second."

"Menus?" I gasp.

I look around only now realizing that the bar is bigger than before, with bigger tables placed around the room.

"We're a restaurant and a bar."

"Then did my father find a different bar to live in?"

"Why don't you go into the kitchen and say hi to your Uncle Hal real quick while I take care of my lunch crowd?"

Aunt Susie gestures to a swinging door. I nod and walk toward it.

Gone are the days of my doting Aunt that thought I could do no wrong. Why does she suddenly hate me? What have I missed?I push through the metal door and lock eyes with my father. He's wearing a black apron and he's laughing. His eyes are different.

"Dad?"

"Emma!" he and my Uncle Hal exclaim at the same time as they rush toward me.

"Hey," I murmur as my father envelopes me in a bear hug.

He doesn't smell like whiskey or beer anymore.

"I didn't know you were coming into town," Uncle Hal gushes as he hugs me too. "Boy, you and your Aunt Suz sure can keep a secret. Did you come for your dad's birthday?"

"Birthday," I repeat.

"I sure never thought I'd get to see my baby girl for my birthday," Dad says as he hugs me again.

Birthday. Today is my dad's birthday.

"Surprise."

I force a smile and make a gesture with my hands.

"It's so good to see you, sweet pea, but it's the worst timing. It's the lunch rush."

"What is happening?"

"Your dad and I cook for the restaurant now," Uncle Hal laughs. "Only five-star reviews for us."

"You cook, Dad?"

This man almost caught the house on fire when I was four because he passed out while cooking a frozen pizza in the oven. Now he cooks?

"Yeah, since I got sober, I needed something to fill the time. Your Uncle and I went to cooking classes at the college and it's been crazy ever since."

"Did you say you were sober?"

"Yes ma'am, for the last five years."

Five years?

"Then why did you sell the rink?"

"So that we could build this," he says proudly as he gestures toward the kitchen.

"It wasn't yours to sell."

"Yes, it was," he chuckles as if I'm joking.

"Hey, guys, got a few big take-out orders coming in," Aunt Susie announces as she walks into the kitchen. She glances over at me. "This can wait until tonight after lunch and dinner rushes."

"No, it can't."

"Yes, it can."

What in the hell is happening? Did I just walk into an alternate universe? Nothing is right.