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He placed the skates near the door, then took her hand, guiding her to the dresser before opening the drawer. He rifled through her belongings, pulling out the pair of long johns Liza had loaned her—declaring she’d want them if she decided to take a hike—as well as a thick cable-knit sweater, jeans, and a couple more pairs of socks.
“You’re going to want to layer up. It’s cold as a witch’s tit out there.”
“I’m not ice skating,” she repeated. “I’m clumsy barefoot. There’s no way in hell I can stand up on that thin blade on ice. No way, no how.”
“I won’t let you fall,” he reassured her.
“You aren’t listening to me.”
Elio gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You’re right. I’m not. Now get dressed.” He walked around the bed to his duffel bag, pulling out extra layers for himself.
Gianna didn’t even bother continuing the fight because one, she wasn’t going to win, and two, he was basically guaranteeing she’d be wrapped up in his arms for the next hour or two.
“If I do this, you owe me.”
Elio brightened up. “Oh yeah? I think I like the sound of that.”
“You don’t know what I’m going to ask for,” she taunted.
“Is it sexual?”
She gave him an are you kidding look. “Of course it is.”
“Then I don’t need to know. Deal.”
* * *
Gianna gasped when they made it down the short path to the pond. Elio had been a very busy boy this morning, shoveling a narrow lane so they could get to the water. It was larger than she’d expected and—as he’d reassured her several times on the walk here—completely frozen.
“A bench?” she asked, when Elio ran his gloved hand over the wooden bench, clearing off the snow so she could sit down.
“Yeah. When we were kids, we’d fish this pond a lot in the summer.” Elio pointed to several downed logs by the edge of the water. “We used to sit there, but then one year, my dad decided he was tired of getting a sore ass while fishing and declared we needed a bench. For him in the summer to fish from. And for my mom in the winter, so she could watch us skate.”
“Your mom didn’t skate?” She sat on the bench, pulling off her boots to put on the skates she’d carried from the cabin.
Elio shook his head, dropping down next to her to put on his skates as well. “Not much. Used to insist she’d break her neck.”
Gianna narrowed her eyes. “How come she got a bye and I don’t?”
“Because she’d at least done it a few times before. You can’t live your entire life without trying new things, Freckles. And this is an easy one because you have me, as your teacher and your spotter.” He finished lacing up his skates, then rose, kneeling in front of her to inspect her work.
“The laces are too loose,” he said, as he untied them, pulling them much—much—tighter.
“I think you’re cutting off the circulation.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m not. You need them that tight to support your ankles.”
Once he was satisfied with his work, he stood and grasped both her hands, helping her up on very wobbly feet.
“Holy shit, this is hard,” she said. “And we’re not even on the ice.”
Elio helped her walk to the edge of the pond. He slipped onto the slick surface, never letting go of her hand.
“This is so scary,” she murmured, as she tentatively—and oh-so carefully—stepped onto the ice. She felt her feet starting to go out from under her, but Elio’s grip was tight, resolute, as he helped her regain her footing.
For several minutes, she merely kept her feet still, allowing him to tug her across the surface like a tractor pulling a trailer. She was already feeling some screaming in her calf muscles as she worked overtime to keep her ankles from buckling.
Elio, meanwhile, glided with ease, never stumbling, even with Gianna wobbling and using him for support.
