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“Just take the compliment, Adam. I don’t give them away often.”
There’s a twinkle in her eyes that hits me deep. “If you insist. Thank you.”
She nods, then starts to chew on her lip, looking lost in thought. It’s only a moment later when she blurts, “I want to go on the ice.”
“Okay. I can unlock it for you.”
“No. I mean with you. I want to . . . I don’t know. Maybe we could shoot a couple pucks around or something. I really fucking miss it, Adam. I want to do more than just stand there and watch. I want to grip a stick in my hand and line up a shot before I forget what it feels like,” she rambles, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “I’m ready.”
Fuck. Watching her overcome a hurdle that’s burdened her since her injury might just be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I want to storm across the room and kiss the rest of her doubt away.
“You will never forget that feeling because I won’t let you. Hell, you won’t let yourself, and this only proves that. If you want to play a one v. one game out there, we’ll play a one v. one. If you want me to stand in front of the net and pretend I have any goalie talent whatsoever, I can do that for you too. Anything, Scarlett. I can get Brie to open the arena, and we can stay on the ice all day if you want.”
She blinks rapidly. “You’re serious?”
“Of course I am. Get your skates, and I’ll meet you there.”
“Great, yeah. I’ll be quick.”
My mouth quirks as I take backward steps to the door, watching her grow more flustered the longer we look at each other. Once I’m in the doorway, I wink. “See you soon.”
I’m bending the blade of my stick over my thigh when the rink doors slam shut. I whip my head around to see Scarlett walking toward the opening in the boards, her custom black-and-yellow skates on and a stick fairly similar to mine in her hand.
“Is yellow your favourite colour?” I ask, staring curiously at the yellow tape wrapped around the top section of her stick.
She simply stares at me, unimpressed. “Were you expecting it to be black?”
“I mean, now that you mention it.” I smirk.
“You’re hilarious,” she deadpans.
She sets the blade of her stick to the ice and leans to the side. Her eyes flick to the fresh tape on my stick. “Is red your favourite colour, then?”
“It is as of late.”
“Why?” She narrows her eyes, almost as if my answer offended her.
A smile parts my lips. “Isn’t it obvious?”
She shakes her head.
“Because, Scarlett. It reminds me of you.”
“Oh,” she mumbles, her chest flaring with the pinky-red colour I love.
I skate toward her, not stopping until our skates touch. Her blue eyes are wide as they stare into mine, both surprised and intrigued. I lift a hand and twirl a loose curl around my finger. It’s as smooth as silk and just as springy as I remember.
“You turn the perfect combination of red and pink whenever I touch you. It does things to me,” I admit. As if to prove my point, the tips of her ears flush. “Where else are you pink, Scarlett?”
Her breathing stutters, and she leans toward me. My stare drops to her lips while my hand moves to cup her cheek. I brush my thumb across her cheekbone.
“I want to kiss you again. But I won’t.”
“Why not?”
I bend my head and bump her nose with mine. “Because when I do, I’m not going to stop. And you’re not ready for that.”
With that, I pull back and slowly skate a safe distance away from her. She doesn’t move from the place she stands, and I use the break to pull myself back together.
