Page 21

Brody scoffed. “Ro, this is hardly Victorian times. I’d think handsome men delivering presents to your door would fit perfectly with your heartbreaker status. Plus, it’s only a pair of skates.”

They didn’t look like a pair of “only skates.” Their leather screamed quality and as I picked one up and tested the wheel with my index finger, there was no friction to lessen its slick rotation. I let out a breath. Man, they would have cost him a bomb. The idea of at least trying them out on the carpet, of course, had my lips bowing.

“But I didn’t say I would try out for the derby team. Spitz Hollow is so far away, and I’d have to go incognito on account of my Tuft Swallow-ness.”

A sulky pout took up residence on Brody’s lips. He gave me pure puppy-dog eyes, and my resolve wavered a little. He should add “a talent for guilt-tripping” to his Hockey Card statistics. I tutted and returned the skate to the bag.

“I’m gonna take my break now,” I called out into the shop, aware that the Flubbergeists wouldn’t hear me in the egg-box-lined store room.

The dazzling grin from a minute ago reappeared on Brody’s face, and he watched me as I shouldered the bag and came out from behind the counter. “Wait for me outside,” I said, holding the door open for him. “Raspberry or cola?”

One of his brows tipped heavenward.

“Slushie flavor. It’s hot.”

“Raspberry,” he said before I pushed him outside and gently closed the door on him. I didn’t need him to see how fast my chest was moving. Brody backed outside and took a seat at the old wooden picnic table that sometimes served as my office. A huge plaster model of a tufted titmouse dwarfed the bench. It was one of the town’s most famous feathered residents.

From the slushie machine, I had a bird's-eye view through the window. Brody’s giant biceps fired as he settled onto the wooden planks. The bulk of his muscle cast a shadow on the table to rival a solar eclipse and he’d styled his fair hair in a scruffy “I didn’t spend twenty minutes in front of the mirror” kind of way. I chewed at my bottom lip as I ran my eyes over his jeans. They hugged the bulk of his thighs like their life depended on it. Oh, yes, Brody had it going on today.

When I’d finished pouring slushies, I gripped the flimsy cups and pushed the door open with my shoulder.

Brody was looking into the slightly crazed face of the plaster bird as I approached.

“This thing worries me.”

With its orange eyes, it did have a touch of the “undead” about it.

“I feel like it’s gonna take a chunk out of me at any second.”

I giggled, putting the drinks down on the tabletop. I stepped one leg over the bench. If I left the other one free, I had a quick means of escape should I get too jittery to feign disinterest in Brody’s presence. I slipped the bag's handles off my shoulder and placed the skates alongside the cups.

“So, are you in?” he asked, tipping his chin at the bag. “The derby? They’re your size.”

Electricity prickled at my fingertips, and I couldn’t help but reach over and peek inside again. “I don’t know. I’m not sure if I’m ready to deal with the ostracism.”

“What do you mean?”

I took out one skate and cradled it in my lap. “If I represent Spitz Hollow, even if it’s only for roller derby, nobody here would ever talk to me again.”

Brody scowled and shifted on the bench, the vibration of the movement hitting me right between my legs. “Tuft Swallow doesn’t have their own team. It makes no sense.”

“It doesn’t have to. The rivalry goes back generations, you know that. The residents would drum me out of town. Mark me with a letter ‘T’ for traitor.”

Brody ran a finger down the outside of the slushie cup, leaving a line in the drops of condensation clustered there. And did I imagine that finger running along something else more pleasing? You bet I did.

“Come on. It’ll be fun,” he said.

I didn’t disagree, but I was pretty sure we weren’t talking about the same thing.

“What do you have to lose?”

I huffed, then took a pull on the straw of my drink. “Just my head, my teeth, my dignity, and my social standing in the Tuft Swallow community.”

He scoffed. “What social standing do you have? You’re already earmarked as a scarlet woman.”

“Well...” Think, Ro, think. “I’m captain of the cornhole cheer squad.” At my words, Brody laughed. “Hey, it’s an important job. And then there’s the responsibility of playing a literal icon at Christmas each year. I’m always cast as the Virgin Mary in the nativity play. Not everyone has what it takes to carry off a realistic immaculate conception.”

Brody’s shoulders shook, and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes grew deeper.