The outdoor rink was straight out of a Christmas movie with twinkling lights strung through snowy pine trees, the scent of hot cocoa and wood smoke drifting from nearby fire pits, and soft holiday music floating through speakers hidden among the branches.
The ice gleamed like polished silver under the blue sky, reflecting the warm glow of lanterns positioned around the perimeter.
A modest crowd of couples glided gracefully across the surface, their laughter mingling with the gentle scrape of blades on ice.
It was perfectly romantic and peaceful, exactly the kind of setting where three massive, tattooed boxers would look completely insane.
"This is going to be amazing," I whispered to Sierra and Isla as we sat at the rink’s edge, still lacing up our skates. "I can't wait to see them try to balance on those tiny blades."
"Connor's going to look like a baby giraffe," Sierra giggled, adjusting her scarf. "All those big muscles and nowhere to put them."
"And Adrian?" Isla grinned wickedly. "He'll probably try to turn it into some kind of performance art. Watchhim attempt pirouettes."
We were practically vibrating with anticipation when the guys finally got their skates on and stood.
Every conversation on the rink stopped.
The sight was absolutely surreal: three enormous men, all broad shoulders and intimidating presence, wearing figure skates.
But what made it even more ridiculous was that they moved onto the ice with the confident swagger of men who knew exactly what they were doing.
"Oh, shit," I breathed, watching Jax glide—actuallyglide—toward us with perfect form. "That was not supposed to happen."
Connor followed, his massive frame somehow graceful as he executed a smooth turn that would have impressed a hockey coach.
And Adrian? The man was practically dancing, spinning, showing off like he'd been born on ice.
The other skaters had stopped to stare, some pointing and whispering.
A group of teenage girls near the concession stand had their phones out, clearly recording the spectacle of three gorgeous, intimidating men who looked like they'd stepped off a magazine cover and onto the ice.
"Wade," I finally realized. "Those Easton family Christmas vacations. I guess they’d learned to skate over the years.”
Of course. Of course they were all secretly ice skating pros on top of everything else.
Jax reached me first, executing a perfect hockey stop that sent a spray of ice shavings across my skates, making me glare at him.
His blue eyes were dancing with amusement as he took in my expression.
"Surprise, princess,” he greeted with that infuriating smirk. "Ready for your lesson?"
Before I could respond, he'd swept me onto the ice with one arm around my waist. I immediately wobbled, my ankles refusing to cooperate, and grabbed onto his biceps with both hands.
"You're such an ass," I muttered, clinging to him as he effortlessly guided us across the ice. "You let us think you couldn't skate."
"Where's the fun in spoiling the surprise?" he replied, pulling me closer so I was practically pressed against his chest.
"Besides, I like having you hold onto me like this. Very dependent. Very sexy."
Heat flooded my cheeks, and not just from the cold air. "Jax, there are people watching."
“And?” he asked, his voice dropping to that low, possessive register that always made me weak—which was particularly dangerous when we were on ice. "They're just jealous they don't get to touch what's mine."
His hands moved to my hips, probably to help with my balance, but his grip wasnotpure.
When I wobbled again, he steadied me by pulling me flush against him, his thigh sliding between mine in a way that was definitely not appropriate for public ice skating.
"Jax," I warned, but my voice came out breathless instead of stern.
