Page 23 of Thin Ice

I press my lips together to stop from smiling at her outburst. “Why don’t you leave Seattle, then?”

“My and my husband’s jobs. Noah also, in all capitals, HATES the desert. Hates all things hot in general, including me.” She smiles sadly to herself and takes another long drink of her vodka cran.

Noah. My heart flip-flops in my chest at the familiar name, the name I always want to forget but can’t. The Noah I know hates being hot, lives in Seattle, and is the center for the Stormbreakers.

“Noah’s your husband?” I ask, attempting to keep my voice level.

“Who else would it be, silly?” Quinn snorts like what she said is way funnier than it is. She swallows the last of her drink and asks for another one. I make a mental note to remind Hazel to tell the guests they have a two-drink daily maximum starting tomorrow. If our guests get drunk, it impedes their progress. But the first night, we always give them free rein.

“And you both work together?” I ask. There’s no possible way that her Noah is my—the—Noah I once knew.

“Hmm,” she says.

My heartbeat drums in my skull. “And what is it you do?”

She shrugs. “It’s boring. Why don’t you tell me more about being a nomad? That is way cooler than being a sports photographer.”

Quinn slaps her hand over her mouth, her eyes comically wide as if she told me the biggest secret in the world.

“That’s way cooler,” Matt interjects before I can say anything. He leans on the bar top, his blond hair flopping forward onto his forehead. “What sports do you photograph?”

She removes her hand and frowns at him. “I don’t want to talk about hockey.”

Hockey. She photographs hockey, and her husband’s name is Noah. This can’t be real.

Matt laughs, handing her the new vodka cran before pulling out a glass and filling it with water. He slides it to Quinn. “Drink this, too.”

“Thanks! That’s so thoughtful.”

Matt throws a bar towel over his shoulder before moving back to the other end of the bar. I’m left with a million questions firing in my skull and no way to ask them.

“Beck?”

My gaze refocuses on Quinn. My chest is tight, but I breathe through it, attempting to calm my racing heart.

“Yeah?” I ask.

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I shake my head. “Sorry.”

“Not a fan of hockey?”

That’s a loaded question, one I’m not going to get into right now. “Hockey isn’t my thing,” I respond neutrally. It’s not a complete lie, but it’s not an answer to her question, either.

“Hmm, I like you even more now. Hockey is my life, Noah’s life. It’s why he loves the gym so much. Always going to the gym. It’s the freaking offseason now, and guess where he is?” She pauses, taking a long gulp of her drink. “The freaking gym. Though this time, it’s my fault because I was mean.”

My skin prickles because there are too many similarities for it to not be true. Her husband is Noah Ashcroft. I would bet money on it.

I go cold as Quinn downs the rest of her drink, eyes drooping. She asks Matt for another one, but it’s time for me to interject.

“Quinn,” I say, my voice surprisingly steady. “How about some food?”

“Oh, yeah! Didn’t we come sit here for food?”

“We did.”

“So silly.” She laughs. “We forgot to get it.”