“Maddie blindsided me with this request, but I do think it’s a good one. We’ll be able to raise a lot of money for the youth league, and goodwill as well.”
He nodded once, almost curtly. “You do a lot of charity events, yeah?”
“That’s my job—I’m head of the charity arm of Fairbanks Enterprises. It’s my job to make the company look good, and I think this is a great opportunity.”
Right. Good. I said all of those words, in a row, and sounded completely normal, and—the important bit—I didn’t reach up and tuck that strand of wet hair behind his pointed ear.
Professional. Poised. Polite.
Right. I could do this.
Kardok’s attention shifted to the ice as he dragged hishand across his head, tucking that strand into his topknot. “We have the place to ourselves?”
My throat was dry, and I took two tries to get it working. “Uh—yes. I thought…”Focus. Stop thinking about his jawline.“Since it was our first time together—I mean, our first rehearsal! Since it’s our first rehearsal, I thought privacy would be better as we got our legs under us.”
He still wasn’t looking at me—was that on purpose?—as he nodded again. “Maddie mentioned someone else would be joining us?”
“Joshua McAllister is one of the best youth coaches here, and we contracted him to join us at our practices. He’ll be able to watch and give pointers.”
A third nod, still with him not looking at me. Kardok’s expression hadn’t changed, but his jaw had tightened. There was an old scar which ran up his cheek to his temple—a nasty cut from before he’d joined the league. It had always made him lookmorewicked, somehow. More primitive.
This afternoon, though? I saw his old pain.
“Kardok?”
I hadn’t even realized I’d blurted his name until he turned and looked at me.Reallylooked at me. Like he was seeing me for the first time, those dark eyes raking me, looking for inadequacies I prayed he couldn’t see.
He raised a brow, and I exhaled.
“Thank you. For agreeing to this. I know…I know it’s not your bailiwick.”
His lips twitched, one side of his mouth pulling up into a smirk as he switched his attention back to the ice. “I don’t know what that means, Princess. But I’m doing it for the kids. And my team.”
Right.
Not like he’s doing it for me or anything. This wasn’t even my idea—Maddie roped me into it, the same as him, only I was going to end up having to plan the entire event, wasn’t I?
So I hardened my tone slightly and tried to remember how to be professional. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to see you skate. Oh, I’ve seen you in games, of course. But—” Darn it, I was making a mess of this. “Would you do a few laps for me? Please?”
Dark eyes flashed my way once more, and I wondered if he was always this hard to read, or if he was being deliberately stoic for my benefit. Or perhaps he didn’t want to be here.
With a shrug that turned into him rolling his shoulders and shaking out his arms, Kardok stepped off the rubber mat.
The moment his skates hit the ice, I understood why Maddie had chosen him.
I’d expected a hockey player’s stride—powerful, purposeful, utilitarian. The kind of skating that existed purely in service of getting somewhere fast and hitting something when you arrived.
And yes, there was that; Kardok moved across the ice with the confidence of someone who’d spent more time on blades than off them.
But there was something else underneath it. Something I hadn’t anticipated.
Oh, I thought, very professionally.Oh no.
“Just a few laps,” I called out, keeping my voice in what I thought of as mywork register—pleasant, authoritative, the voice of a woman who absolutely was not remembering certain internet searches she’d conducted in the privacy of her own home. “I want to see your natural stride before we discuss choreography.”
He didn’t respond, which I was choosing to interpret as compliance rather than dismissal.
I watched him complete the first lap, arms loose at his sides, and tried to mentally catalogue his moves with the detached eye of someone who’d spent twenty years assessing bodies in motion. Weight distribution, good. Edge control, surprisingly refined. That forward lean—aggressive, yes, but not unworkable.
