While I wasn’t with the Cold Fury then, I’ve heard all about when Raleigh got hit with an epic snow and ice storm about nine years ago that started around midday. Although the Department of Transportation diligently salted the roads, the storm was such that it didn’t matter. Ice accumulated thickly and rapidly, and the entire city was gridlocked with a massive rush of people trying to get home. News reports had children stranded in schools, commuters taking up to twelve hours to drive five miles, and numerous wrecks, because let’s face it, it’s hard to drive on ice in the best of times, nearly impossible for people who have no clue how to do it.

After it started to snow and sleet about two hours ago, an alarming amount of ice collected on the trees, power lines, and roads. Since the city was still slightly traumatized by the great ice event of nine years ago, the Cold Fury cleared the staff and players from the arena and locked it down. A game is scheduled for tomorrow, which is still tentatively on, but that will depend on how hard we actually get hit.

This sucks in a major way, because I had a date set with Lexi for tonight. The plan was for me to pick her up here when she got off at six, but that is not going to happen with the way the weather is. The governor’s office has relayed to the news stations, which in turn have relayed to the masses, that everyone is encouraged to stay off the roads and inside. This means most businesses will be shut down, so no fancy dinner with Lexi.

Yet here I am at The Grind, because I’m worried about Lexi driving home.

She and I have texted several times over the last few days, and I was even compelled to call her after our game last night in New York. I knew it was late, but I also knew she’d be up, because I’d texted with her plenty of times in the late hours. During the phone call last night, I’d learned that she drives a very tiny car, which would surely cause massive injury and potentially death if she were to slide off the road or get hit by something bigger. So I decided to come here and rescue her with the intention of getting her home safely in my big Mercedes G550 and my own expert driving on icy roads.

The minute I pull the door open to The Grind, I can feel the emptiness before I even take note that there are no customers inside. It’s eerily quiet: no babble of people talking, no hiss of espresso machines, no cups rattling against tabletops.

I don’t see anyone, so I take a few steps toward the ordering counter, intent on calling out, when Lexi suddenly appears from a closed door behind the bakery cases.

“What in the world are you doing here?” she asks with a surprised grin.

“Came to drive you home,” I tell her.

She rolls her eyes at me, and it’s cute for sure. “I told you I’m fine.”

And she had indeed told me that via text a few hours ago when I gave her a heads-up our date was looking like it was a no-go.

“I decided not to believe you,” I tell her with an answering grin. “And I hope to hell you don’t have to stay here and work until six. The roads are getting really bad.”

Lexi shakes her head as she bends down briefly behind the counter and pops back up with a heavy coat and her purse in her hands. “I’m actually ready to go. I just finished closing out the day’s books for Georgia. She’s out of town for a few days and I’m the only one she trusts to close the place down.”

“Good,” I say with relief as she puts her purse on the counter briefly so she can get her coat on. “Let’s get going then.”

Lexi comes out from behind the counter, pulling a set of keys from her purse. “You know, I really didn’t need you to drive me home. I am from Connecticut and have driven on an icy road or two before.”

“Yeah, but not with thousands of freaked-out southerners who do not know how to drive icy roads. Your car is too small to protect you if you were to get in an accident. Besides that, I like being bossy and doing the opposite of what people tell me to do. It’s this whole power-control issue I have.”

I pull the door open for her and she laughs as she steps out into the frigid air, giving a tiny shudder when it hits her. It makes me want to wrap my arms around her for warmth, which is a distinctly un-Roman-like thing, as I’ve never been much of a cuddler. A jokester for sure, a man who likes to fuck a sexy woman and get it on in the dirtiest of ways, and definitely I like to talk if the conversation is interesting.

But never a cuddler, since it’s just not something I’m used to. Never had affection growing up, and most definitely never saw it between my parents or other family members, and by the time I’d started playing the field with women, it was just odd to me. Not distasteful, but merely awkward, so I avoided it.

So it’s just a bit unsettling to have the urge to wrap my arms around Lexi right now as I watch her lock the doors behind us. When she turns around, I hold my arm out gallantly for her. It’s not a cuddle, but it does give me the opportunity for us to touch.

“Shall we?” I quip as I nod down toward my arm.

“We shall,” she says with a laugh, and tucks her arm into mine as she asks, “Where to?”

I turn her toward my SUV parked right in front. “Just five feet away, but hold tight. I almost broke my neck on the sidewalk earlier.”

She laughs again as she grips me harder, and I find I am becoming more and more drawn to that sound. She’s not the type of woman who giggles, but instead shows her amusement with that same husky tone with which she sings and talks, which means essentially anything that comes out of her mouth is sexy and amazing.

I get her to my SUV without incident or broken bones and manage to walk around the front without sliding too much and looking like an idiot.

You’d think as a hockey star I’d be able to maneuver on ice with more sophistication, but truly it’s the skates that make all the difference.

I merge carefully into traffic, which takes some time since it’s moving so slowly, then settle in for a perilous four-mile drive to the little garage apartment that Lexi rents from her boss, Georgia.

We move less than a mile in thirty minutes and talk is limited to sarcastic comments made about all the terrible drivers we see. We wince as cars start to slide off the road onto shoulders, and several accidents that occur, although they are more like fender benders, fortunately. On two occasions, cars slide my way and I brace for impact, but then they veer off, which is more from happenstance than from any real skill by the drivers. By the time we get close to our exit onto Wade Avenue, I make a decision and turn right into a residential neighborhood.