“I gotta go.” Avery backed away from Cat, knowing that if he didn’t get away from her now, he wouldn’t be leaving until he wore that same sexually satisfied look that she currently sported.

Leaving her as though a pack of wolves were chasing him, he returned to his empty apartment and tried in vain to erase the memory of what just happened between them. The feel of her body against his, the heat, the passion. The mewing sounds she made when he touched her, kissed her, made her climax.

He never should have touched her. What had possessed him? She had, obviously. The woman could get under his skin faster than anyone he knew. She could rile him up with a word, heat his blood with a look out of those bewitching green eyes, and harden him to a level of aching, physical pain with just a kiss.

Why hadn’t she pushed him away? He treated her horribly. She should have slapped him, not melted when he kissed her. He stumbled on the stairs, realizing that not once had she spurned his advances. The minute he touched her, kissed her, she melted in his arms.

What would she be like in his bed?

No, don’t think like that. You know better. She’s the marrying kind, and you sure as hell aren’t.

Besides, he couldn’t do that to her. He cared about her too much.

The Dawson men weren’t made for long-term relationships. His dad and granddad had taught him that. He’d promised himself when Hank divorced his second wife and married his third that he would never sign up for the institution. There was a reason they called it an institution. In his experience, marriage drove some men to a level of insanity that was hard to come back from.

Marriage was fine for some people. He’d seen how certain couples flourished, grew together, became stronger. But he was too much of a Dawson. If he ever married, it would end in disaster and then he’d be like his dad working himself to the bone to cover the alimony checks.

While the idea of marriage to Catriona produced a warmth in his chest—to know she was his, that she’d be there in his bed, in his life, the mother of his children—and tempted him into tossing the promise he’d made years ago into the trash, he couldn’t. If it didn’t work out—and the odds were in favor of it not—it would kill him to watch her leave, hating him.

It was better to push her away now before their hearts were anymore entwined.

The key to that, he had to stay away from her. It would be hard with her right across the street, but that didn’t mean he had to walk across that street. He needed to treat that stretch of road as an uncrossable crevasse, a treacherous drop resulting in his certain death.

Regardless of all that he told himself, the euphoric expression on Cat’s face when she’d climaxed followed him into his dreams, tormenting him, and leaving him aching and exhausted when he awoke the next day.

Today was a hockey day, blessedly giving him a breather and a way to work out his frustrations. There would only be a few games left before Break Up arrived—the term Alaskans used to describe the turbulent season of spring as it rushed in like a thundering herd of caribou.

There might be a game here and there when he and the guys were stir crazy enough to drive into Fairbanks and skate at the Big Dipper indoor rink. Heartbreak didn’t have an indoor rink, yet, just the high school outdoor rinks. Hank was working on a year-round facility, but he needed more investors before it became a reality. For now, his ragtag team played pond hockey, more challenging than on a rink that was routinely resurfaced with a Zamboni.

The outlying areas of Heartbreak consisted of many lakes and ponds, most heated and never freezing due to the underground hot springs. It was one of the reasons Heartbreak hadn’t disappeared like so many other gold mining towns, when the miners had exhausted the riches and packed up and left. Year-round hot water was almost as precious as gold in a climate that tested humans with months of negative forty degrees, and on those rare—thank, God—hellish occasions when it dipped even lower. The coldest Avery had experienced was negative seventy-five, and he hoped he never suffered those temps again.

He drove out of town about ten miles to Puck Pond, shortened from Pupchik Pond, named after Feliks Pupchik, a Russian fur trader who, as the legend went, died of a broken heart when the woman he loved ran off to San Francisco with a gold miner who had struck it rich. Hence the name of Heartbreak, Alaska, had been born.

Ash Bleu, Bart Bruhn, Ryder and Dare Wilde, and Alaska State Trooper Trip Hunter were already there donning their gear at the back of Ash’s SUV. Dare’s black-and-white husky Eska bounded around the area sniffing out rabbits in the underbrush, using her muzzle to plow in the deep snow.

One drawback about living above the Pump House, it kept him from getting a dog like Eska. Someday he hoped to have a spread big enough for a large dog, or two or three.

Ash, Bart, and Avery had graduated the same year in high school, while Ryder, Dare, and Trip were a few years behind them.

“What kind of torture do you have planned for us today?” Ryder asked, buckling the strap on his helmet.

“We’re playing against a few of the kids I coach on the high school team.” One of them being his brother, Drew, who had a wicked slap shot. If Drew applied himself, Avery could see him going all the way to the NHL. A skirmish had been set up for today, pitting five of the quick and tenacious teenagers against the older, more seasoned twenty-somethings.

“Good, I’m the frame of mind to educate,” Bart said, his wide grin spreading his Tom Selleck mustache. The man was a bear, topping at over six-four with linebacker shoulders. Getting checked by him was something you never forgot, if you recovered. Bart had played football in high school and was late to the game of hockey. In Alaska, football only lasted a few months, while hockey could be played most of the year. Once school had ended, Bart had begged to play. He was slower than the rest of them, and his passing of the puck was hit and missed, but he made up for it in sheer size and determination.

“Don’t get cocky,” Avery cautioned. “These kids will make you work for the win.” He’d coached them since junior high, and they continued to improve with speed and accuracy.

“We’re not half bad ourselves,” Trip commented, taping the handle of his stick.

“These guys are fast,” Avery said. “You might want to stretch.”

“Next, he’ll have us doing yoga,” Ash said.

The mention of yoga had thoughts of Catriona crowding in and how she’d easily wrapped her legs around him last night.

Damn it—she didn’t belong here.

Hockey was for working out his aggression. He counted on it, more so today than he had in a long time.

“You know, yoga isn’t a bad idea,” Dare said. “Cat’s taught me a few things. When I’m racing, doing yoga as part of my training helps a ton.”

“Of course, you would be a fan of the downward dog,” Ryder snickered. The men ribbed Dare, and he took it good naturedly like he did everything. His twin Ryder had the hotter temper of the two. Half the year they were identical, but in winter, Dare grew a beard to help protect his face from the elements when running his sled dogs and competing. While Ryder never let more than a little scruff appear on his face. He didn’t want to “burn” the ladies’ delicate skin, at least not in that way, he was known to joke.

“Are you still seeing Leia?” Avery asked. He didn’t know why the question popped out. If he thought about it, he’d have kept his mouth shut. It was widely known that Sorene and Leia were arch enemies. Leia had teased Sorene mercilessly all her growing up years and had driven a wedge between Sorene and Ash that had taken ten years to find out it had all been lies.

“You need to be careful of that one,” Ash cautioned.

Ryder’s expression hardened. “I thought we were here to play hockey and not dissect our love lives. Hell, with the mention of yoga, next you’ll want to braid each other’s hair.”

“How’s the lake house coming?” Dare asked Ash, changing the subject.

“We just installed the cabinets,” Ash said. “You should see what Sorene did. She carved a wilderness scene in the upper cabinet doors. She’s outdone herself. I have a friend at Home and Garden Magazine. I’ve sent him some preliminary pictures, and he wants to feature the house in the magazine as soon as we have it wrapped up. Don’t tell Sorene. I want it to be a surprise.”

“You’re marrying one talented woman,” Trip said.

“Hot and smart too,” Bart added wistfully.

“That goes without saying.” Ash narrowed his eyes at Bart, who’d admitted to Ash that he carried a torch for Sorene.

“Sorene agree to a wedding date yet?” Avery asked, taking a page out of Dare’s playbook and trying to get the conversation onto firmer ground. It was enough that they would be skating on ice.

“She refuses to consider any dates until the house is finished,” Ash replied. “One project at a time, she says.”

“Tunnel vision, that’s our sister,” Ryder said.

Which spoke a lot to why Sorene had broken off her and Ash’s relationship when her mother died and she’d been left to help raise her six siblings.

Avery had always respected Sorene. He, Ash, and Sorene had been in the same grade in high school, and he’d even asked her out once upon a time, but she’d only had eyes for Ash.

Some things never changed, it seemed.

Would he always have this need for Cat? God, he hoped not. Before he’d taken her out, he’d casually dated and enjoyed time with women of all ages and sizes. Women were a wonder, one that he hoped never to get tired of. But since dating Cat, other women seemed pointless, shallow, and lacking.

None of them were Cat.

Damn it, he needed to get her out of his head. Taking off his skate guards he pushed off the ice and skated around the pond, picking up speed, heating his muscles before the game began.

“Hey, old man.” Drew slid up next to him. “You guys are going down.”

“What have I told you about overconfidence, young grasshopper?”

“I can hear your bones creaking from across the pond,” Drew taunted.

He didn’t like how close to the truth Drew had hit. “Have you thought anymore about working at the Pump House.”

“I have. Consider me your new dishwasher.”

A smile split Avery’s face, and pride for his brother puffed out his chest. “You’ll be low man on the totem pole, and you’ll have to take orders from me.”

“So just like at home. I think I can handle it.”

“Smart ass.” He affectionately pushed at Drew’s shoulder with his huge glove.

“Ass hat,” Drew replied, repeating the nicknames they had developed for each other years ago.

Avery laughed, the cold air slapping at his heated face, and felt his worries slide away. What followed was a brutal game, leaving the older group bruised and bloody in places. Trip had a split lip, Ryder and Dare sported bloody noses, and Avery sported a cut on his cheek, while Bart didn’t have a mark on him.

It hadn’t been an easy win, the over-twenty team had fought for it and had the battle scars to prove it, while the cocky teenagers had learned a few lessons, which is what he’d hoped would happen today.

“I know we won, but I feel like we got our asses kicked,” Ryder said, wiping at his sore nose. “You coach those heathens?”

“Damn right, I do,” Avery said, pride in his voice over how his kids played.

“I might need some coaching from you if we’re going to continue playing the youngsters,” Dare added.

“Hell,” Trip said. “A few practices wouldn’t be out of the question either. I’m going to feel this tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Bart rubbed at his chest where he’d sacrificed his body to prevent Drew from scoring. “I’m feeling it right now. Drew has got a killer slap shot. It’s going to leave a mark.”

“If you need to move some muscles, we’re tearing down a wall in Cat’s new place later today,” Ryder said, indicating him and Dare.

“Tearing down a wall?” Avery asked. What was Cat planning over there?

“Yeah,” Dare added. “She wants the two rooms upstairs to be one large one so that she can teach yoga.” Dare ruffled Eska’s ears when she returned from her escapades to sit at his feet.

“Speaking of Cat, we’d better get a move on or she’ll have our ass. Same time next week?” Ryder asked.

“You got it.” Avery packed up his gear and tossed the hockey bag in the back of his pickup.

“Wait,” Dare asked. “Who we playing next week?”

“The over-forty team.”

“Now you’re talking,” Trip said.

“Hold on, we’ll be playing against our dads,” Ryder pointed out.

“Well, shit,” Bart said. “We’ll definitely need a practice or two.”