Ice Dreams

Disclaimer: Characters in this story are my creation, as is the city of Bannen, (as far as I know, Canada doesn’t have a city named Bannen in it), and the hockey team is fictional as well. They are not based on any specific person, so any similarities are purely coincidental. I do not own any rights to the Stanley Cup, and I don’t make any money off my stories.

I tried to keep the hockey facts as truthful as possible, so please excuse any slip-ups. While this is a story based on a sports team, it’s not my intention to focus completely on it, but instead on the romantic story. I also don’t bash hockey players in real life, as I’ve met a few and they are lovely people. It just works in my story for now. I was inspired from the recent playoff games, when this plot bunny jumped into my head. Please enjoy.


A/N: I don't have a beta reader, so please put up with any spelling mistakes and whatnot that come up. I will get it proofread eventually.


Warnings: angst, lemon, oral, death, fluff, language, m/f

*Asterisks indicate thoughts

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Chapter One

It really wasn’t her own idea, when she applied for the position of ‘events coordinator’ for the city’s hockey team. She did it because her best friend, (well, someone that was supposed to be her best friend but only pressured her all the time), pushed her into applying for the position. Told her something along the lines of, ‘you’re segregating yourself from the rest of the community’. Bullshit like that. She caved under the pressure though, and ended up handing in her resume to the ice rink the very next morning.

Denise sighed, thinking over her decision. Was this the right thing to do? She didn’t need another job, working in the fashion industry gave her more than enough money to survive. Her friend though, Hilary, had told her that she needed to become more involved with the community. Denise had a sneaking suspicion that Hilary had her own agenda, but she had felt guilty enough for not being such a community-oriented person, (wherever that guilt came from was a mystery to her) and decided that applying for the job wouldn’t be so hard. Whether or not she got it was a different story. That would give her a more difficult choice then – accept or decline? Denise rubbed at her temple, more in frustration than in pain.

The position itself wasn’t so bad – organizing charity events, certain functions (like Christmas parties, banquets, ‘meet the fans’ sorts of things), autograph signings, those kinds of events… she could deal with being around hordes of children and crazy female fans. That wasn’t a problem. She had dealt with far worse working backstage at runway shows, dealing with bitchy models and glam-boys.

What made the position so undesirable to her were the hockey players themselves. While not having met them personally, (she didn’t even know the names or faces of any of the men on the team) she had met their kind before. She had dated a hockey player while in high school, (mind you, he played for the school hockey team) but they had a running trend in attitude. It was enough to turn her off for life. The cocky, know-it-all, almighty attitude that she wished she had never been exposed to. The, ‘sleep with me or don’t bother talking to me’ attitude she had faced as his girlfriend. Maybe she had it bad, but she had been burned enough by that one relationship that she had adopted her own attitude – you play hockey, so therefore you are an asshole.

Taking up this position would mean regular contact with the team. It would mean having to tell them what event was coming up, to make sure they all knew where they were going and what they were doing, and listen to the players own suggestions on what functions should be held. Sharing ideas meant holding meetings, or phone calls, or email, or….

*Should I have even bothered applying?* Denise thought to herself. It seemed like a worse and worse idea, the more she thought about it.

*I will never, EVER cave into pressure again. I am a fool*

Standing, Denise made her way to the kitchen, fixing herself a pot of tea. She filled the kettle with water, and adjusted the stovetop burner for the temperature she desired. When it started to boil, she removed the kettle from the burner and set it on the countertop, popping a lemon flavoured teabag into the water. Leaning against the counter, she waited for the flavour to take, considering what she may have gotten herself into.

She had done some research on the hockey team before submitting her resume and job application. While not a sports fan herself, she did understand a little of what she had read. The Bannen Warriors, as the hockey team was named, were the only professional hockey team in the city of Bannen. She hadn’t been living in the city for a long time, but she had heard of the team from skimming over newspaper articles in the Bannen Sun. They were high up on the list of successful Canadian teams, though hadn’t won the Stanley Cup in over a decade. She knew that to be some sort of large competition that spanned several weeks, but never bothered to catch a game on the television. It didn’t quite catch her interest the same as it did Hilary’s.

Denise supposed they would gather that much from reading her resume, that sports weren’t a big part of her life. They would see that she was involved in fashion design for some high end companies, and had worked in runway shows in Los Angeles and New York. Sports would not be mentioned at all. She played a little volleyball in high school, but her interests had always been in drawing and sketching. She quit playing because she was nervous about hurting her hands, and hurting her future career.

*Now it is my career, and in my prime I’m applying for this position? What’s gotten into me?*

Denise fetched a mug out of the cupboard and poured herself a generous cup. Living alone, she had gotten used to doing everything for herself. Not that being independent was new for her. With parents that couldn’t care what their daughter did, Denise grew up with little supervision or love. It was only when she hit it big that her folks decided to pay attention to her. She had been 23 then, fresh out of school. Right then and there, she cut her ties. She was nearly 27 now, and hadn’t spoken a word to them since she met with them that cold afternoon. It was after a runway show, and she told them that she never wanted to see their faces again.

At the time it had felt harsh, but in the end she knew it was best for her. They weren’t kind people. They would constantly bring her down with their negative outlook on life, their hurtful comments, or just outright ignoring her. Sometimes her father would hit her, when he needed to let out some of his pent-up anger. He worked as a construction worker, a demanding job, and Denise assumed that he was frustrated with his life, feeling like he never got the most out of it. Her mother wouldn’t do anything when he flew into one of his fits, just sat in the living room, puffing a cigarette, deaf to the world. Denise hated her, swore that she would never become her mother. She thought smoking was a disgusting habit, because her mother did it. Health reasons aside, the smell of smoke made her nauseous because it would remind her of what she had been through.

Walking into the living room, Denise set her mug on the coffee table before flopping lazily onto the sofa. She had made a few million already, faster than she could have imagined, because of her new clothing collection. It was primarily focused on young men and women. Business apparel, summer dresses, evening gowns….made to look beautiful and elegant on all body types. She had received rave reviews, and many anticipated her ideas to soon spill into mainstream fashion. That made her heart flutter. If everyone on the street wore something of her collection, then she would feel like her mission was accomplished – to bring back a more fashionable era, similar to the Audrey Hepburn days, where ‘best dressed’ was a normal everyday occurrence. What made Denise’s collection different from the other high name brands was that she took into consideration that the people of today were ‘go-go’, always busy and didn’t have a lot of time to put into their appearance. The splendid thing about her collection was that a simple blouse could turn frumpy into stylish, just by wearing the garment.

That’s what most consumers mentioned in their reviews. They felt their look was instantly lifted as soon as they put on her clothes, without having to do much with their hair or make-up. Men went from plain-everyday looks to dashing, in a matter of seconds.

Smiling to herself, Denise sat up and took a sip of her tea. Focused on her work, the thought of being events coordinator for the Bannen Warriors slipped her mind.


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“Well, what do you think?” Connor O’Ryan, manager of the Bannen Warriors, held the pristine resume in his hand. He looked it over once more, before turning to Bruce Richards, the man who had asked the question.

“I’m not the one who usually does this. I don’t exactly know the criteria for the job of events coordinator either. I’m not qualified to answer your question.” Connor’s eyes skimmed the paper once more. Bruce rolled his eyes, bushy dark eyebrows raising dramatically.

“Do you think I’m qualified either? I’m the head coach, for God’s sake. Maggie usually handles this sort of thing, but she’s out on maternity leave until next June.” Bruce ran a hand through his thinning gray hair. Connor raised an eyebrow, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“So, I’m wondering why they didn’t hire someone in Maggie’s place? I know you can’t answer that question because it’s not your responsibility, it just annoys me, that’s all. We’re called out to do this because someone else didn’t do what they were supposed to.” Connor frowned, his tanned face starting to sport deep wrinkles as he aged.

Bruce held back a stream of cusses. It wasn’t his responsibility to hire an events coordinator, his job was dealing with the players. Going into October though, Christmas was coming up fast. They desperately needed an events coordinator then, to set up visits to children’s hospitals and the usual parties around that festive time. Bruce regarded Connor with a steady gaze. He took the resume from Connor, looking it over, weighing each bit of information.

“Connor, out of the whole stack of job applications, you pick this woman’s. What drew you to her resume?” Bruce didn’t look up, his eyes still on the paper. This time, it was Connor who ran a hand through his hair, as black as night, though gray strands had started to come through at his temple. He cleared his throat.

“I figured, she had a lot of experience setting up events, as she would need to in her particular industry, and it seems as though she is experienced with holding meetings and generating good ideas. She doesn’t hold a great interest in sports, but we don’t really need that in an events coordinator, do we? Reading through her resume, I think she would be an interesting coordinator, perhaps bring something new to the management. Could be exactly what we’re looking for to give the team a lift, both in the media, and to the players personally. The last events coordinator didn’t give the guys a lot to work with, you know they get bored easily. Perhaps this Miss Denise Woods is what we are really looking for. See, here it says that she was involved in preparing many charity functions.” Connor pointed to a particular sentence in Denise’s resume. Bruce scratched at his chin.

“I sure as hell hope you are right, because we don’t have a lot of time and I just can’t set up an interview. We’re going on faith here. I suppose there is no harm in hiring her and testing it out. It’s not like we’re going to lose out on a lot of money.” Bruce was speaking more to himself than Connor.

“Ok. Tell Bob to give her a call, tell her she’s got the job. He can set up a meeting with her and fill her in on her responsibilities, the things she needs to know. I don’t want to hear anything about it. I’ve got too much on my plate to have to worry about this.” With that, Bruce walked off, leaving Connor with the task of finding Bob.


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Denise hung up the telephone, hardly believing what she had just done. It’s like her brain just shut off but her mouth continued to move. She had run on autopilot, it seemed. Without giving it a lot of consideration, she accepted the job as soon as she picked up the phone and found out it was hers for the taking. The man on the other end sounded nice enough, and a meeting was scheduled between them for tomorrow, so he could inform her of what her duties were.

After hanging up, she had felt a little numb. It felt that during that time someone else had taken over her body.

*Probably Hilary, with the way I accepted so quickly*

Denise scoffed at herself.

*Well, there’s no turning back now*

She hoped that in the end it wasn’t as horrible as she anticipated it was going to be.

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Bob, or Bobby Timmins, was a kind man in his mid-thirties. He was slightly plump, but not overly so. He shook Denise’s hand, (a firm grip, meant to grab her attention right away) and walked with her down one of the hallways at the rink.

It was an expensive rink, enormous, meant to seat around 20,000 people. When the ice wasn’t being used, they threw a tarp over it, erected a stage, and held concerts in there.

*The celebrities must get as much as a rush as the hockey team when they know it’s a full house* Denise mused.

The building that held it was huge. Bob was leading Denise down to a room he liked to call his ‘costume room’, where the mascot’s gear was held. Bob had told her right after he had introduced himself that it was he who posed as the team mascot, a furry lion dressed as a warrior. She had seen the mascot on TV before- it was oddly cute, and attracted many young children. She couldn’t have thought of a better man to fill the role.

Bob was easily a people person, a kind and loving air about him, something that children would be attracted to. He told her about how he visited elementary schools and played with the kids, about how he loved going to the children’s hospitals, and how he just loved kids events in general. Denise felt her heart warm to his character almost immediately. He was very fatherly, although not to distant in age from herself.

He let her peek into the costume room, where the mascot’s suit was located, among other costumes. In certain functions, he would dress up the mascot in different clothes. The Santa Claus costume was always a favourite.

“I’m sorry that I don’t remember. I know I’ve seen it mentioned several times in the news paper and the Bannen Warriors website. What is the name of the mascot again?” Denise looked sheepish as she asked Bob her question. He let out a hearty chuckle.

“Don’t let it worry you, my dear. The Bannen Warriors mascot is called Marscat, for the God of War, Mars. Not very original I’m afraid, but over the years people have been giving Marscat nicknames. Marsy seems to be the favourite, so we have started calling him that. You can call him whatever though, it doesn’t matter.” Bob smiled at her, his eyes twinkling. Denise felt compelled to return the smile.

“Thanks. So, let’s continue this tour. I hear that they spent a crapload of bucks redoing the Bannen Warriors locker room. Is that the truth?” Denise asked. Bob chuckled again.

“My dear, you have no idea. Those boys live in luxury, from their locker room, to the showers, everything. They are just coming out of practice now, so I can’t show you, but there is plenty more to see. Come, I’ll show you.”

“Spoiled brats, those hockey players.” Denise spoke in a playful tone.

*Half fun, whole earnest*

“Well, with all their hard work and success, I guess they deserve it.” Bob defended them, not quite certain if Denise was serious or not.

“Where are we going next?” Denise looked at her tour guide. Bob led her down the hallway.

“Next, we’ll go check out the actual rink….”





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A/N: Thanks for reading this! More to come soon! Please review, I always love reading what you guys have to write.