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

Riley leads me toward the gala’s entrance, and the first thing that catches my eye is a huge poster board with bold white letters that scream: Hamptons and Huntingtons—A single-day experience that brings together some of the biggest names in sports. This invite-only event for two hundred guests—including VIPs, tastemakers, athletes, and power brokers.

The gala is held in the Parrish Art Museum, where modern and minimalist design stands in stark contrast to the surrounding countryside. It looks magical though. It’s made of gabled sheds, set side by side, so that the profile of the building resembles an upside-down W. It manages to look like a huge white stable and a modern art piece at the same time, while all the rich people in the world are mingling within.

My heart pounds, nearly drowning out the clicks and flashes already erupting around us. I’m not used to this. The glitz, the glamour, the hungry eyes of photographers.

As if he’s sensing my discomfort, Riley pulls me close, strong arms snaking around my waist, and whispers in my ear. He’s done that a lot since we got here, and I’d be lying if I said I don’t enjoy it. The sense of security he provides is comforting. He makes me feel so safe, as if nothing could ever harm me again while I’m in his arms.

“You look absolutely gorgeous tonight.” Riley’s whiskey eyes twinkle as they catch the glow of the fairy lights above us.

He had a designer come over to the pool house to show me some dresses. I tried to argue, but he was set on getting me a dress he had in mind. He insisted that for a gala where designers show off their creations, I couldn’t just wear any dress. Eventually, I gave in.

I hadn’t let anyone spoil me like this since Sandford.

He’d buy me things and then use it to put me down, calling me his little gold digger for accepting his gifts. I swore I’d never let a guy do that to me again. But Riley’s excitement about giving me something is different. It’s like the joy I feel when I give my mom a present. It’s not about the gift or the dress—it’s about how happy it makes him to see me happy. It’s moments like these that make me question how I ever thought he was anything but a genuinely decent guy. I needed Nina to practically drag me into his arms to see it. It taught me that we really shouldn’t judge people based on their outward appearances. I should have known better.

The dress is silver with a low-cut back, glittering with tiny stones, and he even got me a matching necklace. Looking at myself now, I’ve never felt this beautiful before. I’m relieved I got my hair and makeup back in place, because as soon as Riley saw me in that dress, he couldn’t keep his hands off me. We ended up having sex right on the floor.

It was so spontaneous—I don’t even know how it started. But when I saw him in his tuxedo and the way he undressed me with his eyes, I just had to climb my man. I couldn’t help it.

I melt into Riley’s hug and my head tilts up to meet his soft lips. He was so cute all day, I showed him the routine I came up with for the show and he spent his free time trying out some lifts. We used the pool to make it easier for him, since even though he’s way stronger than Aiden, he’s lacking the ice dancing classes he took. But I did my best and so did he and I think we’ll rock it next week.

The world fades away as we kiss, deep and sensual, not a care for the dozens of cameras capturing our private moment. It feels…right. Natural.

My mind spins dizzying fantasies of a shared future—a cozy house, a fluffy dog, children skating wobbly circles on a backyard rink.

I want it all, so badly it aches.

But deep down, I know it’s just a beautiful dream.

The doubts kick in, fighting against the burgeoning hope in my chest.

Sooner or later, the cracks will show.

The hurt will come.

My tender, naive heart will shatter.

The last time I felt like this when a man looked at me like that was the beginning of my downfall. And this time, my heart beats twice or even thrice as much.

I bury my face in his strong chest, wanting to stay lost in this perfect moment for as long as I can. Because despite every logical part of my brain screaming that it will all fall apart…I’ve already tumbled headfirst.

I’m dating Riley Huntington.

And I’m in love with Riley Huntington.

But I can’t tell him because it makes it true.

He’ll act like it’s true, but eventually he’ll leave because life will be too much for him because he’s not ready for it. I believe that he wants to be ready. But he’s not.

I only shared the tip of the iceberg with him, but credit where it’s due—he never once judged me for my silly Lolita love. Still, he has no idea what life has in store for me or how much he’d need to change to be part of it. I like him too much to even ask him to make those changes for me. I’m not that selfish.

Someone clears his throat, snapping us out of our intimate bubble.

Riley and I pull apart and look over to see Jayce’s sheepish grin.

“Get a room,” he says.

Riley hugs him. “Shut up, man. Good to see you, nice suit.”

Jayce is dressed in a sleek black suit, his black bow tie accentuating his mesmerizing blue eyes. Just as we’re about to step onto the concrete floor inside, Jayce’s eyes widen, and I follow his gaze to see a red car pulling up behind us, swarmed by paparazzi. Out steps Rosalie, a knockout in a tight red dress. Her black hair is elegantly styled in an updo, with loose curls cascading down her back.

A sly smile graces her bright crimson lips as she gazes up to a man right behind her. I don’t recognize him at all, but the excited murmur of the photographers tells me he must be somebody. My gaze flits over his artfully tousled bleach-blond hair, the smudged black eyeliner, a half-unbuttoned shirt under a carelessly expensive red suit—he oozes rock star attitude. I wonder what Daddy will say about this.

Riley sighs. “Jett Vaughn, really, Rosie?”

“Since when are they a thing?” Jayce asks, his jaw tight as he watches them approach.

“Who is he anyway?” I say and both of them look at me as if I’ve lived under a rock and, well, I did.

“Some hot new singer, I fear,” Riley says.

“Pop punk shit.” Jayce grimaces.

“Hi guys,” Rosalie says, halting in front of us, but her man doesn’t wait with her, he just winks at Rosalie and goes in. No hello or anything.

Seems like he’s learned from Henry Huntington.

Rosalie doesn’t appear to mind as she casually loops her arm through Jayce’s, causing him to tense up like a soldier ready to fight. What’s up with him when she’s around?

I asked Riley at some point, but he didn’t think he acted any differently. I put it down to a man’s brain failure. They usually aren’t the greatest empaths. But there is something between them. I just know it. The way both of them act around each other. Riley asks her if she wants to give him a heart attack by dating such idiots, and even though she responds with a cocky answer, she flashes Jayce a flirty grin at the same time that either Riley doesn’t want to see or he ignores on purpose. But I think they have a thing for each other.

We go inside, Rosalie and Jayce walk in front of us and I watch how her fingers trail along his arm. Jayce is so stiff though, not one flicker of a grin or anything.

“Did they ever date?”

“Who?” Riley asks as we go inside. We don’t have to show any badges, everyone seems to know Rosalie and Riley, since its their mother’s gala.

“Jay and Rosie.”

Riley tenses up. “Jesus, no. Why would you think that? He grew up like a brother to us. He’s known her since she was thirteen.”

Well, tell me about young girls falling for older guys…

“It’s just…they act strange.”

“You’ve said this before.” Riley watches them and shakes his head. “But no, Jay just hates Vaughn as well. He’s very protective over Rosie.” Okay, he either got one or two too many slap shots against his head or he really doesn’t want to see it. I get a feeling he would hate seeing them together. “Also, Jay knows my sister is off limits. And he’s almost thirty, ready to settle. My sister’s not.”

The grand hall is dripping with low hanging chandeliers, a bizarre contrast to the modern barnlike structure. The glimmering lights almost seem out of place in this rustic setting. Yet, they cast a warm and inviting glow over the opulent furnishings. It’s like stepping into another world entirely.

Crisp white linens adorn several long tables, topped with silver place settings and decadent floral arrangements in rich hues of white and blue. Famous athletes from every major sport mix and mingle, dressed in designer suits and gowns. They flutter around like peacocks, clutching flutes of champagne, not even thinking about sitting down just yet.

Some years ago, this would have been everything for me.

Now, I can’t wait to get home.

“You’re almost thirty too. You looking to settle down as well?” I ask, throwing on a cocky grin, trying to keep my words in check, not wanting to get my hopes up too much.

A waiter carrying a tray of champagne passes by, and I take a glass with alcohol, while Riley opts for the nonalcoholic version. Their coach banned them from drinking before the finals.

“In two to three years, maybe, yeah,” he says and my stomach sinks. “You’re still young, so I wouldn’t rush anything.”

I don’t hear him talking about us as if we’ll still be a thing in three years.

I just grin up at him and take a big, big sip of my champagne.

My gaze shifts to the commanding presence of Eleonore, who effortlessly dominates the room, and then to Rosalie, standing with Jay a few feet away. She finishes her drink and sets the glass on a passing waiter’s tray before excusing herself.

I watch her saunter to the bathroom.

Jayce and some athletes come over to us. They don’t seem to recognize me and I’m glad. I don’t always want to answer questions about quitting the Olympics. Maybe disappearing without a word wasn’t the smartest move—I should have come up with some white lies to keep them quiet. But then my sponsors might have believed me even less. Who knows where I’d be now?

Riley is chatting with a sports broadcaster when I see Rosalie come out of the restroom again. She’s subtly sniffing and dabbing at her nose. It hits me like a lightning bolt when I catch a glimpse of something white glittering under her nose, just before she wipes it away.

Vaughn meets her outside the bathroom and gives her a kiss.

I pull my hand away from Riley and make my way to Jayce. It’s clear he noticed too—he can’t seem to take his eyes off her.

I lean in close and whisper, “Did…did Rosalie just do coke?”

He sighs heavily, resignation etched on his face. “Probably. She’s constantly acting out, seeking her dad’s attention. But no matter what she does, she’ll always be the good child in his eyes. The perfect daughter she hates to be.”

I watch him watching her, leaving for the garden with her hand clasped on Vaughn’s, her head thrown back laughing.

“Don’t tell Riley,” Jayce says.

“What. Why?”

“It’s not like he doesn’t know she overdoes it, but he’ll get angry and they’ll have a fight. It won’t help anyone. She won’t stop with the shit and his night will be ruined. Believe me, we tried everything, but no therapist will work with her until she’s ready to work on herself.”

“But how can she do drugs as a professional ballerina?”

Jayce shrugs. “She’s dancing on her grave.”

“Are you citing Gelsey Kirkland?” One of the most famous ballet dancers from the ’70s. She used to battle several addictions while being the best performer of her time.

Jayce nods.

“She’s using coke at parties, and I think she’s trying to get herself expelled from Juilliard. They have strict rules—one strike with drugs or excessive drinking, and they’re out.”

I look up at him, my eyes big like saucers. “She wants to get kicked out?”

“She hates it there.”

“Why not just stop then without ruining her body?”

“She’s dramatic.”

I don’t get it.

Before I can respond, Mrs. Huntington takes the stage, and the room falls silent.

Eleanor starts to speak, her polished veneer firmly in place, and all I can think is that this glittering world of wealth and privilege is far more tarnished beneath the surface than I ever imagined.

“Gran, I want you to meet someone special,” Riley says, guiding his grandma to me after his speech. “This is my girlfriend, Liora. And this is my grandma, Lilli Huntington.”

“Oh, my dear, I’m thrilled to finally meet you,” she exclaims, clasping my hands in hers. Her touch is gentle, her smile radiant. She’s the kind of elderly woman who still looks young despite all the wrinkles she doesn’t hide and her white hair that’s cut shortly. She’s as small as I am and looks so tiny as Riley has his arm wrapped around her. “I’ve heard so much about you from Riley. He positively lights up when he speaks of you.”

“You’ve heard so much about me?” I blush, glancing at Riley, who grins bashfully.

“He calls me on away periods,” she says proudly, and I think that is actually so sweet.

We chat casually, with Granny sharing funny stories about Riley’s childhood and beaming with pride over his achievements. I can’t help but feel a connection to her warmth and the way she genuinely cares about her grandson, especially compared to his parents’ cold indifference.

Just as we all settle at the table, ready to ask Granny about Riley’s cereal obsession, Rosalie’s laughter cuts through the air. It’s loud, grabbing everyone’s attention. Oddly, even though her parents are sitting right across from us, they seem to be ignoring their daughter’s drunk state.

She sways in her seat, a nearly empty wine glass dangling precariously from her manicured fingers. Jayce’s jaw tightens next to me, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he observes her.

“Rosie, I think you’ve had enough,” Riley says, reaching over the table for her glass.

She jerks away, sloshing wine onto the white tablecloth. “Oh, lighten up, little brother,” she slurs, her words slightly blurred around the edges. “It’s a party, isn’t it?”

“You’re sure you don’t want to come with me, baby?” Vaughn says and, as if we’re not sitting across from them, kisses her with tongue. I feel something against my thigh and notice that Jay is balling a fist next to me. Shit, he’s so gone for her. “I bet the party in New York is better.”

“I can’t.” Rosalie pouts. “My family needs me, galas are important.” She stretches out the important and rolls her eyes dramatically.

“Fine. See ya.” Vaughn kisses her one more time and then leaves without saying goodbye. And no one seems to care. I glance to their father. Not one single move. He’s still talking to some men, looking all business.

Rosalie takes the opportunity to whistle for the waiter.

Riley shoots Jayce a pleading look.

With a curt nod, Jayce slides into the seat beside Rosalie, gently prying the glass from her fingers. She pouts again, leaning heavily against him, her hand coming to rest on his thigh.

I watch, uncomfortably transfixed, as Jayce carefully puts her hand away, his gaze darting to Riley. He threw his hands up in front of his chest, palms pressed together like he was saying thanks.

Rosalie lurches to her feet, swaying slightly. “I need the little girl’s room,” she whisper-shouts at Jayce.

Jayce stands up, holding out his hand. “I’ll keep your bag safe,” he offers, his tone brooking no argument. For a moment, Rosalie looks like she might protest, but then she shrugs, thrusting her clutch at him before staggering away, Jayce trails behind her like a shadow.

Riley’s shoulders slump. “Thank goodness for Jay. He always takes care of her when she’s like this. I can’t stand it when my sister pulls these stunts.”

“Does your dad ever get mad at her?” I ask.

Riley snorts. “Never. She could be lying on the floor and he’d think she was just taking a nap from all the ballet training.”

“That is insane…”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with my parents, but they always make me out to be the villain and put Rosalie on a pedestal she doesn’t want to be on. It hurts more than they realize.”

I reach under the table and grab Riley’s hand, intertwining our fingers.

We focus back on chatting with his grandmother, the aroma of truffle and caviar filling the air as the waiters swirl around us like bees.

“You could be captain of the team by now, if you had your act together,” Riley’s father hisses in between the main course, drawing the attention of the whole table.

Rosalie’s halfway sober now and actually sitting next to Jayce, behaving like a decent human being. I don’t know how he did it, but he worked some kind of magic. She’s barely touching him anymore, and whatever he’s saying must be working, because she seems to be calming down. It’s like he’s got a PhD in handling drunk drama queens.

“Your temper, your lack of control—it’s holding you back. It’s your own damn fault,” Henry says.

When Riley tenses up, I feel a surge of anger climbing up my chest. Not again. Can this man not stop?

His mother chimes in, her tone dripping with false concern. “I do hope you’ll sort yourself out soon, darling. All these women you’re seen with…it’s not a good look.”

I frown at her. I’m not a good look? Have you seen your daughter’s boyfriend? Thank you, bitch.

“I’m in a serious relationship with Liora,” Riley says. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d talk about her with respect.”

Eleanor purses her lips, and I notice Riley’s dad shooting a look at the man across the table—Steve, Howie, or whoever he is. It’s like he’s silently confirming all the doubts and criticisms he’s shared about his “failure of a son” seconds before.

“They were gonna give him a second chance, but then he went and got himself locked up. Can you believe it?” his father says, as if Riley wasn’t actually sitting next to him.

“What a waste of talent,” the man remarks to no one in particular.

I look at Riley, waiting for him to do something, anything.

Why is he always ready to defend me but never stands up for himself when it comes to his parents? He can hold his ground against Ethan, Nina, his coach, and Houston’s agent, but when it comes to his parents, he just lets them steamroll him. And I realize he gave up on them years ago.

“But what’s your plan if hockey doesn’t work out?” some lady from the other end of the table pipes up.

“Oh no, not Aunt Suzie,” Granny mutters under her breath.

“Kid’s got nothing going for him. Failed all his classes in college,” his dad says, shaking his head.

My jaw clenches as I try to contain the bubbling anger inside me. How dare they say such things about him? Do they even watch his games? He’s amazing and so are his stats.

“That’s not true,” Granny grumbles before breaking into a fit of coughs, her voice no longer as strong as it once was.

My anger simmers and grows and boils over, like a raging inferno inside me. I just can’t believe them. His family. The people at this table.

“Well, he definitely didn’t inherit my smarts.” His dad laughs, and everyone else joins in, including Eleanor, who’s laughing the hardest. “Always needs a calculator because he can’t do math in his head.” My hands ball to fists. More laughter erupts around the table. “I guess that explains why some of his passes are so off.”

Okay. I can’t take it anymore.

I shoot up from my seat, scraping my chair against the floor loudly, causing everyone to turn their attention to me with open mouths.

My hands tremble with barely contained anger as I glare at Riley’s creators. They don’t deserve to be called parents.

“Enough,” I grit out through clenched teeth. “You don’t deserve him. None of you do, except for his grandmother—sorry, Lilli.”

Granny raises her hands in surrender, a wide grin on her face. “No offense taken, honey.”

I pull Riley up by his arm and turn to face his parents again, my voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “We’re leaving, but first I need to make something clear. Riley is the best player in his league, he has the most scores, and one day he will beat Gretzky’s records. And do you know what will happen when he does?” I point accusingly at all of them. “None of you will be invited, except for Lilli.”

I hear a hoarse cheer from Granny.

“You don’t know anything about your own son. Riley is the kindest person I’ve ever met—always giving back to the community with free skate courses and camps for kids whose parents can’t afford them, even during his own season. And yet you sit here and claim he doesn’t have control over his career, his scores, or his own records? That’s complete nonsense.”

I lock eyes with his father then, my tone dripping with venom. “And as for you. You never made it far in hockey because you weren’t good enough. All the hate you feel toward your own son should be aimed at yourself. Go get some help with those wires in your brain that are clearly malfunctioning, because you are missing out on an amazing son.” I almost shout the last part because, fuck it, it’s true. “Maybe one day you’ll come crawling back and give this man the love he deserves, but until then, let me fill you in on some vital things about him that you missed out on. His favorite color is blue, he loves thrillers, hates caviar, and oh, he’s allergic to celery, so why the heck is it on the menu? And most importantly, he loves—”

“You,” Riley says, causing me to freeze mid-rant.

Suddenly, all the thousands of words I was ready to unleash dissipate into thin air.

What? He said what?

I turn to look at him with surprise and my heart swells as he pulls me into a kiss. “What did you say?” I whisper.

“I love you,” Riley says and pulls me in for another kiss. “You crazy little bulldog of mine. I love you.” He kisses me again, and I hear clapping and cheering from the tables around us, including from his granny, who is whistling and coughing with mirth in between.

“Come on,” he whispers and tugs on my hand. “Let’s go.”

We say goodbye to Lilli and basically run out of the door.

Everyone quickly goes back to their conversations, as if nothing had happened. I’m not delusional enough to think my little speech will change their behavior. Honestly, these people are so stuck up, they probably wouldn’t even notice if the sky turned purple.

But I had to take a stand.

As we make our way through the crowded room, ignoring the curious stares and whispered speculations, Riley lets out a relieved sigh next to me. It feels like he just shed all the unwanted thoughts he ever had.

“Fuck. You’re. Fuck,” he says, smiling from ear to ear. “You’re incredible.”

I can’t help but grin at his flustered words, feeling my cheeks heat up as well. “I just couldn’t sit there; I hate your parents. I’m sorry.”

“Praise the universe. I hate them too,” he mutters.

I want to grab his face again and pull him down for another round of kisses, but then suddenly a familiar figure steps into our path and my heart stops.

No, this can’t be.

It’s Sandford, looking just as handsome as I remember, but with a few more lines on his face. His blue eyes widen as they land on me, and I can’t help but feel a flutter of nervous excitement in my stomach.

It’s been years since our explosive fight in Beijing.

I could still feel the sting in my heart, but here he is, standing in front of me. His hair is still a mane of wavy blond, his square jaw cleanly shaven.

“Hey,” he says, his voice oozing with false sincerity.

Riley’s grip tightens around my waist as we turn to face him. Sandford’s eyes rake over me, lingering on the hand that Riley has placed possessively on my waist.

“What do you want?” I snap.

He leans forward, a move that used to make my heart flutter but now only sends chills creeping down my spine.

Riley is quick to react, pushing Sandford away before he can get too close. “Don’t even think about it,” Riley growls, his protective instincts kicking into high gear.

Sandford laughs, brushing off Riley’s warning like it’s nothing.

But we all know Riley could take him down without breaking a sweat.

“Sweety,” Sandford says with a sly smirk, using the same endearment he always did when he wanted something from me. But I am not that naive girl anymore. I have changed and I owe it all to him. He made me grow up fast.

“I’m not your sweety anymore,” I sneer, emphasizing each word. “I told you once and I’m only telling you this twice, don’t play me, I don’t want anything to do with you. Get out of my way.”

But Sandford doesn’t listen. He never did listen to anyone. “Why didn’t you call me back?” he demands, completely disregarding my previous statement. “I just want to talk.”

I swallow hard, trying to keep my composure in front of everyone watching us. “You talked enough on TV,” I retort, remembering how he tried to twist the truth to make himself look like the victim.

That poor man.

His young, teenage protégé, all wild and naive, running away from the Olympics. The hate I got on social media made me cry myself to sleep, even though there was so much more I had to cry about.

“I never want to see you again. I mean it, I’ll get a restraining order if I have to.”

Sandford laughs, probably thinking about how broke I am and that I can’t afford to come after him. But he has no idea how much I’ve earned from the show. If I win, I’ll finally have the means to track him down. And I will.

He reaches out to grab my arm in a desperate attempt to stop me from leaving. Before I can react, Riley is there, standing between us, his eyes shooting daggers at Sandford. It’s then when I realize he’s half a head taller than him. “If you touch her again, I will knock you out,” he warns.

Sandford looks up at him with a steely gaze, showing no signs of fear. “Another sports career ruined over trifles? How pathetic.”

Trifles? He can’t be serious.

The anger inside me boils over as I look at him and all the hurt he’s caused me.

“Trifles?” I say.

Riley doesn’t throw a punch.

I do.

My fist connects with Sandford’s jaw, but the pain shooting through my hand is nothing compared to the satisfaction rushing through me now.

“Leave me alone,” I spit, cradling my throbbing fingers. “I never want to see you again.”

Riley pulls me away before anything else can happen, leading me outside into the cool night air.

As we walk toward our waiting car, I lean against him for support, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes.

I let out a groan of pain as Riley quickly inspects my hand.

“Oh no,” I mumble, realizing what I’ve just done. My hand. I need it.

I have never hit anyone before and I didn’t even do it right.

But it was never just trifles and Sandford knows it.

“Fuck. Hospital. Now. I think you broke your thumb,” Riley says.