“Hey, Claire, I should have mentioned something sooner. I have a phone meeting in half an hour, and we won’t make it to the house in time. Do you want to roam the shops while I make the call from the car?” He shot her a winning smile. That smile had won her over when they’d started seeing each other.
Well, they never formally traversed the dating stage of a relationship. Neither of their schedules allowed for that. Roommates-with-benefits was as good of a place to start as any. Regardless, he knew it was a lady-killer smile and used it often, so it wasn’t nearly as effective as it had been at the start.
She guessed that’s how it went. After enough time with a person, the mystery waned. Her parents certainly had no mystery left in their relationship. Hell, the whole family knew about her father’s bowel habits. Too many over-sharers in the Dabney family. Still, her parents loved each other. Plenty of nagging and griping, the occasional raised voice, and plenty of details she didn’t want to know about, yet somehow did.
“Sure. Let’s head to that skating rink you mentioned, then you can join me as soon as the meeting’s over and teach me some fancy moves.” Claire grinned, imagining her inner figure skater coming to life.
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“I thought you reserved vacation time for the whole trip?” As much as she’d known he couldn’t disconnect, she’d been foolishly optimistic. With a protracted breath, she closed her eyes and awaited the inevitable response. Was she alone in believing that this trip was the last hope they had for making this work? Or was Ryder worried, too, realizing that this should be easier? At the rate things were going, she was beginning to realize that he wasn’t grasping the gravity of the trip.
“I did. I am. But, if I get this contract sealed, I might land that promotion and the flexibility to live anywhere.” Again, that ridiculous grin with deep dimples, designed to charm the pants off many a woman before she came around. And capped it off with that twinkle in his eye that said he really meant it.
The tight band around her skull constricted tighter. Resisting the urge to rub her temples, refusing to play the martyr, she watched out the window as evidence of civilization came into view. Farmhouses. Sheep, goats, horses, and cows. Ryder had put her name on the rental agreement for the car, so while he was tucked away in meetings, she could sneak away to see the sights.
Foothills proper was as adorable as she had imagined. Livelier and more three dimensional than compared to the internet street-view tour she’d played with last night, it buzzed with humanity. They drove passed a classically old-fashioned hardware store, a casual diner, a hole-in-the-wall pub, a surprisingly high-end clothing boutique, and a hopping brewhouse with an inviting year-round outdoor dining setup. She turned her head away, so Ryder didn’t see her laughing at her own joke.Hoppingbrewhouse. Ha. She was hilarious.
He hooked the next right and pulled into the skating rink. Two women were chatting as they climbed into their car and pulled away. The lot was otherwise empty aside from a black SUV. Ahead, in front of a wedding-style windowed tent that must hold the skating rink, a blue shanty was decked out with signs for ice skate rentals, family night promos, and lunch date specials. Adorable.
Ryder paused heavily as he shifted out of gear. “I shouldn’t be more than thirty minutes. Why don’t you go rent some gear, and I’ll meet you out there?”
Nodding with a blatantly phony smile, Claire eased out of the car. She shouldn’t judge; he was trying. And his job meant the world to him. She’d been too busy for him for months. Her mother would tell her she should give him time to catch up.
Claire pulled on her knit cap and inhaled a crisp breath of air before heading into the shanty. As jolly as Santa, but not nearly so jellied, the cashier passed across scuffed white skates that looked serviceable, albeit not as glamorous as she had pictured. With a shrug and a smile, Claire accepted the well-loved skates. Glamor wasn’t her thing, anyway.
The scent of ice, fresh from the freezer, teased at her nose as she strolled inside. Whizzing past, back and forth on the ice like a devil chased at his heels, the hockey player didn’t seem to notice he was going to have to share soon.
If all went well, he wouldn’t laugh at her too much when she inevitably biffed it.
Out of the corner ofhis eye, he saw a gorgeous brunette, sleek hair tucked adorably into a knit cap, cautiously stepping out onto the ice. Grinding to a halt, Grady ceased his drills. Quitting time anyway.
Great legs, long and athletic in dark denim, were about the only thing not encased in puffball, as she was so heavily bundled with a parka and thick gloves. The instant her skate hit the ice, she braced herself against the wall. Warily, she pulled her other foot onto the ice.
And that was it.
Feet slipping chaotically forward and back, threatening splits or a backward spill, she lurched and latched tighter onto the side. She gripped the half-wall that surrounded the rink, her feet oscillating between wiggling and slipping underneath her as she tried to get her balance.
Sensing disaster ready to strike, he scooped the puck onto his stick, wincing as she seemed to debate attempting to venture away from her safety net.
As she dared to loosen her grip on the wall, her feet flew out from under her, and she crashed and fell flat on her ass.
He flicked the puck into his hand and skated toward her. “You ok?”
Cheeks rosy, either from the cold or embarrassment, she chortled with a rich belly laugh and shook her head in delight. “Peachy keen. My butt’s numb, but I remain unharmed. Slippery stuff, isn’t it?”
Grady laughed right along with her, immediately enchanted by her self-effacing humor. “That it is. Need a hand?” he offered as he set the hockey stick and puck on the lip of the half-wall.
Wiggling her legs, setting her thickly gloved hands on the ice, she scrunched her face in complex calculation. “Actually, yes. Thanks.” She slid her gloves off and tossed them over the wall, pitching her coat after them.
Apparently feeling more agile without the bulk, she extended her hands up to him. Awfully trusting in response to an overly helpful hockey player on an empty rink. Her nails were trimmed short, but not chewed to the nubs like Sophie’s. Her sweater was a rough wool, practical but trendy.
He reached for her hands, and for the first time, she looked at him—like, right at him. Into him. Dancing with amusement and shock, the prettiest set of hazel eyes he’d ever seen locked onto his and sent an arrow straight into his soul. Yeah, that’s right, he said soul. His buddies would mock him to no end if they heard it, but he didn’t care. All those stupid sonnets and love songs and romantic nonsense his friends had spouted all blossomed in his head like a victory garden on steroids.
Tongue tied, he linked his hands with hers. As electric as her gaze, their interlocked fingers sent shocks rocketing through him, fingertips to toes to the tips of his hair. Straight into the aforementioned soul. The sensation wasn’t painful like touching an electric fence, but equally exhilarating as the hum vibrated over his skin.
Bracing his skates to support them both, Grady deftly pulled her to her feet. As her skates wobbled, she almost biffed it again. Catching her before she could slip, he held her close to keep her steady.
Okay, maybe he was an ass, but the complete faith she granted him, her body pressed tight against his... damn, it had been way too long since he’d even remotely been this close with a woman that wasn’t off the market.
