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“So what’s the problem if it’s a better job? Are the tutus ugly or something?” He laughs, and the sound is deep and dark and makes me think forbidden thoughts.
And like the good girl I’m expected to be, I ignore how much I like it and shake my head.
“It’s in London...” I blurt out and clamp my lips closed to shut myself up. My stomach turns as anxiety tightens its hold on me. “Oh, God. I haven’t told anyone that. You can’t say anything. Not to anyone, Ares. I can’t let Everly find out today.”
“Damn, Grace. London...Wow.” Shadows from the candlelit table dance across his strong jaw, and a flash ofsomethingcrosses his face. For a minute, I think it’s disappointment. But as he leans back in his chair and crosses his massive arms over his muscled chest, I realize it’s something else. Something... more.
Some men look like giants in their hockey pads but are mere mortals when they take them off. Not Ares though. No... this god looks just as big off the ice as he does on it.
And damn, it looks good on him.
Dark hair, always a few days past needing to be cut, dark blue eyes full of mischief, a jaw chiseled from stone, and don’t even get me started on the muscles... His muscles have muscles. I’ve been around incredibly fit men for years. Dancersandathletes. These muscles are different. Capable of doing harm. Honed from years on the ice. These aren’t gym muscles there for the sole purpose of looking pretty.
Then there are the hints I’ve gotten of his tattoos. The kind that make a good girl stupid... The kind a girl wants to tracewith her tongue... The kind that are the perfect cherry on top of the delicious display of arm porn he’s giving me right now.
What is it about a man in a white dress shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, and a chunky brown leather watch wrapped around his wrist that makes me, the good twin, think bad,bad, thoughts?
One day, I’ll see this man shirtless. It’ll be at a family barbecue or a beach vacation. Somewhere already hot. And Ares will jump in the lake or the ocean or my parents’ damn pool, then all the ice in Kroydon Hills won’t be enough to cool me down. The filthy little fantasies I’ve been having about him for months will be put to shame once I see the real thing. Because there’s no way my overactive imagination could possibly do him justice.
“When do you leave?” His voice is unexpectedly strained, and now I want to know why.
“Like I said, I haven’t told Everly yet. Today’s her day. I don’t want to spoil anything...”
A storm grows in Ares’s dark eyes as they rake over my skin, leaving tiny goosebumps everywhere they touch. “So you tell her tomorrow,” he adds slowly.
“It’s my dream job,” I force out, as much for him to hear as it is a reminder for myself. “I’ll be a principal dancer in the Royal Ballet... But I have to leave in three days.”
“If it’s your dream, they’ll be happy for you. You’ve got a great family, Grace.”
It’s not that I don’t know that or that I doubt it.
My family is amazing and supportive.
It’s me.
The idea of moving across the world scares me.
It would be the first time I’m alone indefinitely, and I’m not sure I’m strong enough to survive that.
“Three days, huh . . . ?”
I watch my little cousins run by, but Ares reaches over and tugs on a lock of my hair, demanding my attention.
“How am I supposed to shoot my shot if you’re on another continent?”
I catch my lip between my teeth and stare across the table before I laugh. This man always finds a way to lighten the mood. “You’re not usually the one taking the shots on the ice, unless it’s with your fists, god of war.”
“I don’t see any ice, Grace,” he growls low and sexy, and my God... the tiny scrap of satin and lace passing for my panties just got soaked.
I take a small sip of his beer and lick my lips. “There’s no shot to shoot. My sister married your brother. We’re off-limits.”
“The fuck we are, ballerina.” He raises a brow, challenging me, and grins. Shame he’ll never know how that grin affects me.
“Gracie...” My youngest brother, Hendrix, stops next to us and extends a drunken hand to me. “Let’s show these assholes how to dance.”
“Better not let Mom see you like this, Henny.”
“Lighten up, good twin, and come dance with me,” he demands.
