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“You’re welcome.” He leans forward to pick a green envelope off the coffee table before handing it to me.
My eyes narrow as I rip it open. “Another weekend away with Pippa?” I ask, wiggling my eyebrows, and he smiles to himself. I pull the paper out and read his scratchy, masculine writing.
It’s for five coaching sessions with the woman who started the body-positive dance studio in New York, the one who inspired my dreams.
My gaze whips to his. Months ago, when he was first teaching me to skate, I mentioned her once. I didn’t even say her name.
Just when I think I’ve seen all there is to see with Rory, he pulls something else out of his back pocket.
“I didn’t know she did coaching,” I breathe, rereading his card.
“She doesn’t.” He rubs the back of his neck. “But it wasn’t that hard to convince her, once I explained what you want to do and she looked at your website.”
“She looked at my website?” I chew my lip, heart beating wildly.
He nods, mouth tipping up into a cautious smile. “Did I go too far?”
My emotions pitch and swoop inside me. Even if I’m uncertain about my abilities, Rory believes in me and my dreams. No one’s ever done this kind of thing for me.
“No,” I whisper, running my finger along the edge of the card. “You didn’t go too far.”
Rory sits back, watching me, looking so handsome in the morning light, and I want to say a million things.
“Come here,” he says, and I carefully climb over so I’m straddling his lap. He’s warm under me, and I let my hands skim up his chest, up his neck, until my fingers sink into his messy hair.
“Thank you,” I whisper before I press a light kiss to his mouth. “I love it.”
He hums against my lips, a low, satisfied noise that rumbles through his chest, and I fall deeper into whatever this is with Rory Miller.
CHAPTER63
RORY
“I should have knownyou’d drive something like this,” Hazel says that afternoon as I pull out of the parking garage.
I toss a grin over at her, turning on her seat warmer. “Fast, powerful, and incredibly good-looking?”
“Showy and expensive.” She snorts. “And onlyyouwould drive a car likethisin the snow.”
“Hey, I have snow tires.” I change gears in the sports car, winking at her with a lazy grin as the engine purrs louder, and she rolls her eyes, hiding a smile. “Can you drive stick?”
“Nope. My dad wanted to teach us but Pippa and I both refused.”
The streets are quiet as we drive. “Do you want me to teach you?”
“Rory.” Her eyes flick over to me. “I’m not driving this car.”
“Why not?”
She balks, probably about to protest that it’s too expensive or something.
“You might need a car for something.”
It’s fucking cute how she does that rapid-blinking thing when she’s flustered. Like this morning when she saw the box and thought it was an engagement ring. It almost makes me want to buy one to see what she’d say.
Who am I kidding? That’s not the reason I want to buy one.
“I’ll rent a car if I need one,” she insists.
