—
When I’m hair-and-makeup ready, dressed in my ice-skating best (which is sadly not a sparkly miniskirt, but jeans and a thick sweater), I head over to the ice, taking my sweet-ass time as if the extra two minutes will make any sort of difference in delaying the inevitable.
Liz hands me a pair of pristine white figure skates with a gleeful smile. She’s lucky I love her because these blades are sharp and I’m not above cutting a bitch.
Plodding along through the snow, I make my way to one of the benches, slip off my UGGs, and attempt to shove my feet into the stiff leather of the skates. When my feet are actually in, I’m faced with the daunting process of doing up the laces.
“ ‘Write an ice-skating scene,’ she said. ‘It will be so cute and full of rom-com magic,’ she said,” I mutter, no one but myself to be mad at.
A low chuckle from behind me does nothing to improve my mood.
Then a warm hand picks up my foot, setting it on top of a muscled thigh. Strong fingers adjust my skate before setting to work on the laces, looping them and tying them in a fraction of the time it would’ve taken me.
“Thanks,” I say, when the second lace is tied and Grayson has returned my now be-skated feet to the ground.
“First time?” The glint in his eye is impish and sexy. The bastard.
“You do know if I go down I’m taking you with me, right?”
A grin splits his gorgeous face. “You can try.”
I cock my head in the direction of the ice. “You looked pretty comfortable out there.”
“I’m from Minnesota,” he says with a shrug, like that’s the answer to all of life’s questions.
I raise one eyebrow.
“I could skate before I could walk. It’s kind of our thing.” He rises and holds out a hand to help me up.
I take it, but only because I’m pretty sure I would fall flat on my ass without his support.
Liz comes over and claps her hands together in sheer and utter delight. “Okay. So I should probably tell you to take this seriously and remember to deliver your lines and blah blah blah, but honestly, you can improv a bit. It doesn’t matter what you say in this scene. It’s going to be comedy gold.”
I glare at her. “You are out of the will after this.”
She gives me a fake pout. “Right. Well. Try to call each other by your characters’ names because we’ll be continuously filming, although we can always dub things in post if we need to. And Emmy? Try not to kill Grayson.” She strides back to the command center without a backward glance.
My mouth drops open in not entirely mock outrage.
Grayson purses his lips and at least attempts to hold in his laughter. It doesn’t work, but at least he tries.
I glare at him, too. “If I break myself, there will be no more sex, West.”
“I promise I won’t let you break yourself.” He slips an arm around my waist. “Nothing vital for the sex, anyway.”
I swat his arm and then immediately grab onto it with a death grip because he’s steadily walking us toward the ice.
“Have you really never skated before? Not even at the mall?”
“I grew up in LA.”
“LA does have ice rinks, you know.”
“We also have earthquakes. Doesn’t mean I’m a fan.” My fingers dig into the soft flannel he changed into during his transition from Grayson to Josh.
As we reach the edge of the ice, Grayson turns around so he’s facing me. He takes my elbows in his hands, allowing me to clutch his forearms as he gracefully steps backward out onto the frozen pond.
“First thing to remember: eyes on me.” He lets go of one elbow just long enough to tilt up my chin.
