“Yes, please,” she says softly, almost reverent. “I think that’s exactly what I need.”
The way she says it—like a truth she just uncovered—does something reckless to my pulse.
I don’t rush her. I don’t joke it away. Instead, I lift my hand and trace a slow line along the side of her cheek, my thumb brushing just beneath her eye. She stills instantly, breath catching, and I keep my gaze locked on hers so she knows she can stop this anytime.
She doesn’t.
Her eyes flicker past me for a split second, and up toward the giant screen above the rink when I see the realization hit.
We’re up there. Bigger than life.
Before she can spiral, I lean in and press the softest kiss to her forehead. I hold still, letting my lips linger there as she freezes.
Then she looks up at the screen again, sees it—sees us—and something in her expression cracks open. A smile curves at the corner of her mouth, small and almost disbelieving.
So I do it again. This time it’s her cheek. And this kiss isn’t racy, but it is slow. Intentional.
While her fingers slide up my chest like she needs something to anchor to, I tilt her chin up gently and kiss the tip of her nose.
I’m starting to dread unraveling myself from our position when her hands curl around the back of my neck like that’s exactly where they belong as she pulls me into her body firmly, kissing me.
It takes me completely off guard. Not because I don’t want it—but because I really want it.
She’s warm and decisive and just a little breathless, pressing her lips to mine like she’s choosing this, choosing me, and for half a second, my brain shorts out entirely.
Then instinct kicks in.
I pull her closer, one hand settling at her waist, the other cradling her jaw as I kiss her back—slow at first, then deeper, fuller. She exhales against my mouth, a soft sound that feels like victory and danger all at once.
There are gasps. Quiet laughs we don’t mean to make. The kind of heavy breathing that sneaks up on you when you forget where you are.
I rest my forehead against hers, still holding her, still very aware of the empty arena and the very real fact that we are absolutely, undeniably in public.
Reluctantly, I pull back only to catch my breath.
She laughs softly, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. “Wow,” she says.
“Yeah,” I murmur, kissing the tip of her head and pulling her close again.
We linger there for one more charged second before I step back, hands dropping, pulse still racing.
“Good memory?” I ask.
She nods, smiling like she might float right off the ice.
“Oh,” she says. “Very good.”
CHAPTER 22
JULIETTE
Carol lingers by the front counter, purse tucked under her arm, eyes sparkling in that way that means she’s about to say something she’s been holding onto all morning.
“I have to say,” she tells me, “you’ve done an incredible job with this whole Sawyer situation.”
I can’t help but to choke on my laughter. “That’s a sentence I didn’t expect to hear today.”
She shrugs. “Oh, come on. The business association is thrilled. Social engagement is bonkers, foot traffic is up, and now they’re officially kicking off the Dominion ambassador program with local businesses.”
