"A little."
"Good thing you're cute."
His ears turned pink.
I had discovered over the past week that Kieran could handle flirting just fine right up until somebody complimented him directly. Then all that confidence disappeared.
I took a sip of coffee and nodded toward the window. "Want to go skating?"
"Skating?"
"Yeah." I shrugged. "There's a rink in town."
A small smile appeared. Then he said, completely matter-of-factly, "I've never skated before."
I lowered my mug. "Seriously?"
"Seriously."
I stared at him. Not because he'd admitted it. Plenty of people never learned to skate. What caught me off guard was how casually he'd said it, like it was no different than admitting he'd never played golf or gone skiing.
Kieran shrugged. "The closest I got was roller skates at a church fair when I was… hmm… maybe six or seven years old." He sighed dramatically. "I crashed into a folding table."
I laughed. "How'd that work out for you?"
"The table won."
"By a lot?"
"It wasn't even close."
"Come on," I said. "I'll teach you."
His expression turned suspicious immediately. "Those are famous last words."
"You don't trust me?"
"I trust you."
His smile widened. "I don't trust gravity."
I laughed. "That's fair."
Kieran shook his head, but I could already see the decision forming behind his eyes.
A few minutes later, we bundled ourselves back into coats, scarves, gloves, and enough winter gear to satisfy even my standards. Kieran spent the entire process reminding me that agreeing to take skating lessons and surviving them were not necessarily the same thing.
"I'd like the record to show that this was your idea."
"I'll remember that when you're skating circles around me in an hour."
His snort followed us out the door.
The roads were quiet as we drove through town. Kieran rested one arm on the center console and watched the town slide past his window. I threaded my fingers through his.
"This place looks like somebody built it specifically for Christmas movies."
I glanced over. "You're not wrong."
