Page 16

BRODY

Iwalked down Main Street, my lower leg nagging like a kid on a long journey. After two more nights on Maggie Swan’s lumpy couch, I was almost ready to pack up and move to the Owls Inn. Damp or not. I’d tossed and turned each night, battling knobbly foam and springs intent on impaling my limbs. But every time the idea of leaving for a solid bed and crisp white sheets gripped me, my mind drifted back to Ro. To the way I’d flirted with her at the diner.

I shouldn’t have done it. Teased her so hard. I promised myself I’d keep things strictly business between us. That I’d keep Ro completely in the “best friend’s sister” zone. Still, that morning, I’d found myself back at the Swallow, knowing she’d be there. I couldn’t help myself. She was just too cute to resist with the way her cheeks fired pink as we bantered.

I had the distinct impression that she’d been avoiding me since the diner. In fact, I hadn’t seen Ro for over ten minutes in total these last couple of days. The idea left a nasty taste.

Even a night out with Coop at the Crow Bar hadn’t sweetened my homecoming. I’d made the right noises, smiled, and cracked on the charm when he introduced me to a couple of women,but my heart wasn’t into meeting anyone. I had bigger things to worry about.

Taking a sip of downtown air, I stepped onto the curb, crossing the road to the Town Square. I always found the little park there oddly comforting. Sometimes, it was full of activities, with kids practicing their cornhole toss and old boys playing Kerplunk on the little stone tables. Other times, it was quiet, like today.

I stepped onto the gravel path, and my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out. The word Alex lit the screen. My mouth ran dry. Alex Marshall was an old friend. We dated for a while, back in college, but I’d signed with the NHL, and she moved into sports journalism. Since then, we’d had a mutually beneficial and purely professional relationship. Scratched each other’s backs. She fed the publicity machine, and I gave her exclusives. An all-round win-win.

I found a bench under the oaks that wasn’t coated with pigeon crap and took a seat. Alex contacted me a few times since I’d smashed my leg. She’d wanted a quote or news on my recovery, but lately, she’d only asked about my contract status. And why there’d been no official statements. I pushed a breath out through my teeth. I guess Alex had a nose for bad news.

I opened her text.

Alex: Where are you? I’ve heard some rumblings on the grapevine about your contract. I can’t get hold of your agent, and your team management is as tight-lipped as a clam. Call me.

I swallowed. I hadn’t heard from my agent either. Not even the big-wigs back in Denver. Nobody returned my calls. It’d be pretty tragic for a sports reporter to have information that couldaffect my whole life beforeIdid. A prickling hit the back of my neck, spreading down my arms. If only I could talk some sense into the doctor. Get him to clear me to play. Once I returned to the action, I’m sure my leg would hold up just fine.

Sighing, I pocketed my phone and looked at the canopy overhead. The late afternoon sun was trying its hardest to break through the thick branches, and the only sound, apart from the light hum of traffic, was the wind coming through the leaves. Or was it? I cocked my ear to listen. Was that a faint scraping noise? Or a grinding? I checked the seat underneath me. If termites were at work, I needed to move. I couldn’t afford to fall on my ass if the bench gave way.

But the noise wasn’t coming from under me. It came from the other side of the park. I stood and headed in its direction. Maybe a couple of residents were out practicing their moonwalking. I saw a poster for a Dance like Michael Jackson festival next month. But there was no singing. No high notes.

The scraping noise got louder as I walked past the playground and across the lawn. Before long, movement caught my attention through the trees. A flash of color.

I broke through the foliage onto the tiny performance space toward the lake, and there she was. She didn’t see me, though. Rowena Swan had her eyes shut, pink headphones hugging her ears as she spun in a tight circle. The wheels of her roller skates scraped on the smooth concrete beneath her.

The tiniest denim shorts topped her toned brown legs, and the dark hair of her ponytail snaked around her body in centrifugal abandon. As she spun out, she lifted her arms above her head and turned faster. My mouth hung open. Man, she had talent.

And then she tipped her head back, her ponytail whipping the cream skin of her waist. Wrapping around her high breasts.My dick nudged the fly of my jeans at the sight. “Get a grip,” I mumbled. Remember, this was Coop’s little sister.

I’d already spent the last couple of days battling unholy thoughts about Ro. Ever since the moment I’d seen her in the dark, in the kitchen, tight up against the cooker, her ass softly jiggling as she worked the eggs in the pan.

That night brought back clear memories of her prom. I’d never made such a stupid, selfish move as kissing Ro, and the hopeful look in her eyes on the porch still haunted me. I suspected she had a crush. She’d hung out with Coop and me that whole summer. But when the chips were down, I’d acted like an a-hole and kissed her anyway. Ignored my good sense and followed my hormones.

I’d felt something that summer. That night. A pull between the two of us. I’d put it down to anticipation. Excitement for my future. But now, seeing her again reminded me of why I’d been so reckless. And if I was really honest, I never regretted the kiss. Not once. Only the way I’d left her. High and dry, without explanation. Without an apology.

My vision snapped back into focus as Ro slowed, never once opening her eyes. When her rotation stopped, she executed a sweeping arc. She skated backward in a circle, her hands as graceful as a ballerina. How the hell was she not crashing into something? I’d give my eyeteeth for some of her skills. Sure, ice skates and roller skates were a little different, but there was no mistaking her expertise.

Ro changed her lead foot and switched back to face forward, coming to rest in the middle of the space, opening her eyes. I stepped onto the concrete, fresh grass cuttings clinging to my sneakers.

“Hi, Ro,” I shouted so she could hear me over the music that must be playing in her ears.

She snapped her gaze in my direction and found me. “Brody,” she said, pulling away some hair that clung to her cheek.

Her chest heaved as she sucked in air, and I struggled to drag my eyes away. “I hope you don’t think I’m stalking you. More like spying. No, scratch that. Spying sounds even worse.” At the blank look on her face, I decided to quit word vomiting while still slightly ahead. “You’re incredible on skates, Ro.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she rolled closer, stopping in a tight circle. “Sorry?“ She pulled her headphones from around her ears, bringing them to rest around her neck. “I didn’t hear a word of that.”

Thank fuck. “You’re great. On your skates, I mean. I had no idea.”

She gave me a half smile, her cheeks glowing the lightest pink. With a flip of her ponytail, she skated to the stone bench serving as the front row of Tuft Swallow’s outdoor theater. Putting her weight on a stopper, she sat down and crossed one leg over the other. She looked so prim and proper with her pink wheels still turning in the air.

I joined her, brushing a few stray leaves from my shirt. I didn’t want her to think I made lurking in bushes a regular thing. I had no idea what to say. What I should talk about. The flowery smell of her perfume had me leaning in a little. “Why didn’t you tell me you could skate like that? I know your mum gave you some lessons back in the day, but that was awesome. Next level.”

Her cheeks blushed a darker rose now. “I found some old tapes of her performances. Took them to be converted to DVD. I’d forgotten how good she was.”