AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Cutter is weaving around the ice, working the puck in quick motions. It’s like watching an intricate dance, and he’s so focused that I stop at the top of the stands so I can watch a while. His eyes are zeroed in on every flick, never losing the puck when he moves it around his body, as he changes direction. He’s so fluid on the ice despite his massive frame. And when he shoots the puck to the back of the net as he circles the goal, it happens so fast I almost missed it in a blink.
He snags the puck with his stick and pushes it back out to center ice, skating out to the dark half of the rink before his gaze lifts to me. He slides to a stop, that cool way hockey players do when they shift their skates to the side and kick up ice. I’ve tried it before. I fell on my ass.
“Like the view?” He pulls a glove off and runs his hand through his hair, leaning casually on his stick. The ego on this guy. I mean, yeah, he’s hot, but seriously?
“I like viewing you from far away if that’s what you mean,” I say.
He bursts out a laugh, and I make my way down toward the ice.
“You keep me humble, Price. I’ll give you that.”
Well, crap. That goes against my ego theory. And his smile forms these extra lines around his mouth, lines that are somehow better than dimples.
“You should try being humble more. It suits you.” My stomach flutters from my flirtatious banter. I don’t want to think he’s cute. Knowing he’s hot is fine. But thinking someone is cute? That’s more intimate somehow. That feels like a door to attachment.
“You’re going to freeze your ass off. Here, let me give you something to wear. And I guessed on skates. I think you’re a ten,right?” I nod as I sit down by his huge duffel bag and he skates off the ice and steps toward me.
“Try this,” he says, tossing an enormous hoodie on my lap. I climb into it, drowning myself in his scent as I work my head through and leave the hood up to cover my ears a little. I stand up and tug it down past the end of my shorts. The skin on my legs is beading up with goosebumps and my teeth chatter.
“That helps. Thanks,” I say, the vibration in my voice betraying me.
Cutter laughs.
“Here, they’ll be big. But just roll the top,” he says, tossing a pair of gray sweatpants at me next. I clutch them against my body and sit down to slip my legs in. The fleece is soft and worn, and I recognize these as the same ones he wore last night. Being in his clothes sends an unexpected rush down my spine and into my core.
“Warm now?” he asks.
I nod. I’m definitely warm. I’m not sure if it’s the fact that I’m in layers or inhislayers though. My god does his sweatshirt smell amazing.
I retrain my focus and tug off my sneakers to put on the skates he’s set aside for me. The laces are a little ragged, so I do my best to tie them tight and support my ankles. I don’t plan on trying anything fancy out here today, but the last thing I need is to snap an ankle while simply walking to the ice in these blades.
“Sorry they aren’t the best. We have a few extras in the back for when the high school kids come for lessons or camps. They’re all donated.”
“They’re fine.” I hold my arms out and bring myself to a stand.
“I probably should have asked, but you can skate, right?”
I give him a sideways look. I may be awkward right now, but I spent my lift on skates. “You don’t grow up a Penguins fanand not pretend you’re Mario Lemieux at least once. It’s been a while, is all.”
Cutter steps back and holds up his hands.
“Whoa, okay then. Also, you may have just gotten a smidge sexier throwing out the Lemieux reference,” he says.
I flit my eyes to him as I take a careful step forward.
“You should see me in his jersey,” I throw out.
His brow rises and a deep chuckle emanates in his chest. I flatten a palm on his bicep as I balance myself and work my way to the ice, stepping onto the slick surface with extra care. I feel a little like Bambi right now, my lets wanting to fly out from under me, so I clutch to the wall until the feel on the ice becomes more natural. It takes a few minutes for me to reteach my body, but soon I’m able to push out into the center and even move backward, albeit not with the speed and ease Cutter does.
“Alright, Lemieux. Let’s take some shots. How does that sound?” He hands me a stick, and I grip it the way I used to when I was a kid, when I’d take my dad’s stick out to the driveway and hit crushed soda cans at our tree.
“Okay, maybe let’s make a little adjustment. May I?” Cutter skates close to me and hovers his hands over mine. I nod, and he works his way behind me then guides my hands into an adjusted grip. His chest presses against my back and his breath warms at my neck. I’m grateful for the hoodie to hide my jawline from him because right now it’s on fire sensing his closeness. I’m like a damn cat in heat.
“So don’t whack at it like a kid. You’re going to want to be smooth, coming back like this . . .” He guides my arms and hands back with his then pushes them through the swing. “Like that. Yeah.”
He backs away after we take a few approaches together, and I nearly drop the stick when his hands leave mine. I’m rattled. But what straight woman wouldn’t be. He’s like cheesecake. Peanut-butter and chocolate. An indulgence. And I’m very much aware of the physical reaction I can’t seem to help having around him.
He passes me a puck and I stop it to line it up and take a shot. I glance at him where he stands about a dozen feet away, weight resting on his stick, and he nods for me to shoot.
