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I give him a questioning look, but do as he asks, mostly out of curiosity. Instead of handing me my skate, BJ drops to one knee in front of me.
I frown. “What’re you doing?”
“Checking to make sure it’s the right skate.” He compares it to the one I’m already wearing. “Looks good to me.”
“It should, unless you make a habit of holding girls’ hockey skates hostage.”
“Nope. You’re a snowflake.”
“A snowflake?”
His hand wraps around the back of my calf. It should not feel intimate. It should also not make my stomach flip or my nipples perk up, or everything below the waist clench. And yet...
His whiskey gaze lifts, and a smile tips one corner of his mouth. “One of a kind. An original.”
More stomach flutters. “Wow. How many times have you used that line?”
His eyes crinkle in the corners when he laughs. “Fuck, I like you.” He taps the top of my foot and holds the tongue back.
“I’m not Cinderella. I can put my own skate on, you know.” But I can’t say I dislike this style of flirting. It’s different from what I’m used to.
“Cinderella was willfully oblivious, and a pushover, which you are not. And I know you can put your own skate on, but I wanted a minute with you before I introduce you to everyone.”
“So you could get your flirt on?”
“Basically, yeah.” His grin is cheeky as he holds my skate steady. “I probably should have asked you for coffee or ice cream, huh?”
I laugh and lean forward so I can grip the tendon guard. The skate is half a size too small, but they’re good quality, and I got them used for forty bucks, so I suffer through the cramped toes. I wiggle my foot in, trying not to appreciate how good he smells, or how close he is.
My cheek brushes his hair as I lift my head. “I would’ve said no to coffee or ice cream.” Our faces are only inches apart, and for a moment I wonder what it would be like to go on a date with someone like him. Would we go to the diner? Or the pier? Would he try to kiss me at the end? Would we end up making out in the back of his Jeep? He’s got all the lines, and the chemistry between us is hard to ignore.
He chuckles. “Because I need driving lessons, or because you don’t like coffee or ice cream?”
I drop my head and focus on tightening my laces. “Because I thought you were an asshole.”
“You’re using past tense. That’s good news for me.” He’s still on his knees in front of me, only a sliver of his artwork peeking out from under the sleeve of his shirt.
I push on his shoulder as I straighten. “Get off your knees, Ballistic.”
He rises gracefully, his hand covering his heart. “Oh man, you’re last-naming me? Kiss of death, right there.”
I laugh and stand. I don’t want to like this guy, but I think I do.
He tips his head. “Ready to get your skate on?”
I grab my helmet, gloves and stick, pads and jersey, and we clomp down the hallway together.
A rush of excitement hits me. It’s partly connected to the hot guy currently flirting with me, but also to the fact that I’m about to get on the ice. It’s my favorite place to be.
The rink is already full of big bodies, many of them in hockey gear, minus helmets. There are a few girls in street clothes. I spot Rose with a blond girl, lapping the rink and heading our way.
“You can leave your hockey stuff here.” BJ motions to the bench lined with helmets and gloves.
I set mine at the end as Rose and the blonde approach the gate.
It takes real effort not to let my smile fade when I realize Rose’s face isn’t the only familiar one.
“Winter! Yes! I’m so glad you made it!” Rose grabs the sill to prevent her from sliding past the gate.
