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“What if I make the time? What doIget?”

Brody chuckled, a low throaty sound from somewhere deep in his chest. “That’s the Ro I know. Name your price.”

Was he serious? I could demand anything of him? How did more time in the boxing ring and a shirt-free policy in the house sound? I settled my raggedy breath, unsure if it was the exertion or the crackle in the air between us that made it tremble. “I’ll settle for those crocheted gloves. Have you even started?”

A grin spread like warm honey over his lips. “I’m still in the research phase.”

My heart sank a little. He hadn’t done a thing. I’d left out some yarn and a couple of crochet hooks a few days ago. The last time I’d checked, they were still there. All he had to do was look up a tutorial on YouTube.

With a sigh, I skated an arc around him. “Shall we, then?”

I stopped opposite Brody on the very inside of his cone-ringed track. He counted down from three, and at his echoing, “GO!” I pushed off and skated as if my life and my chastity depended on it. I mean, a whole week of delivering breakfast in bed to Brody had to be a bad idea, right? There’s no way he slept in full-body pajamas.

Every time I sped past him, he shouted out the lap number, and each time I dug down and pushed harder, the grind of my wheels drove me on. I hadn’t skated this hard for years. Not since Mom passed. Back then, I’d trashed my pair of boots skating the long, straight road between Tuft Swallow and Spitz Hollow over and over. Spent hours trying to drive away my sadness with the movement.

My lungs were on fire now, and when Brody called “twenty-five,” I drove even harder. I wasn’t sure what I was trying to forget this time, but even the thunderous hammer of my heart couldn’t drown out thoughts of the achingly gorgeous man timing my laps.

“Twenty-Seven. Stop!”

I slowed up, sucking in deep lungfuls of stale school gym air. I skated toward Brody, and judging from the smile on his face, I hadn’t made the required time. He was no doubt planning his breakfast menu for the next week. When I reached him, my breath was coming under control, but my body dripped with sweat. I cursed my decision to put on some mascara before I left work. By now, I’d probably be wearing it around my knees.

One of his eyebrows quirked as I came to a stop, and he dragged his eyes over my face. “You look hot.” He followed theline with a wink. Damn him. I’d just slugged my guts out for five solid minutes, and all he could do was throw me a cheap, flirty line.

“Stop it, Brody. Either you take this seriously, or I’m out of here.”

He shrugged. “I can’t help it. You’re too cute when you get mad.”

I threw him a filthy glare, my chest still rising and falling like a rolling ocean. “Just give me the verdict.”

He held his phone out to me so I could read the screen. Four minutes, thirty-seven seconds. I’d made it with time to spare. I brought my eyes up to meet Brody’s, matching his grin.

“I knew you were fast enough. Your legs are pretty solid.” He must have caught my grimace. “In a good way, I mean.”

Brody brought a hand to the back of his neck, and I was almost sure a blush of pink hit his cheeks. But no. Brody Flockhart would never blush. He’d more likely parade down Main Street in a furry chipmunk suit than show weakness. Reveal any chink in his macho armor.

“Did you watch the videos I sent you?” he asked.

He’d showered me with derby videos all day, the laser focus he talked about in full evidence. “There were quite a few to get through, but yes.”

Some of the clips had scared the crap out of me, but others? They were exciting. The women wore their passion like a badge of honor. I envied them for their drive. Coming up with new cheerleading routines didn’t quite give me the same buzz.

“So, you understand the rules?” he asked.

“Kinda.” It was a half-truth. Therewasa structure and a set of rules, but the clips he sent me looked like a big jumble of people most of the time. With a lot of shoving

“And?”

I huffed a laugh. “There seemed to be a lot of falling over.” Seriously, with some of the accidents in the clips, I feared for my teeth.

“Right. It’s full contact, so you must know how to protect yourself. But not just you. You need to protect your jammer and block the jammer on the other team.”

The videos he’d sent talked about the difference between the jammers, who scored the points, and the blockers who tried to stop them. I drew my brows together. “So, lots of falling over?”

Brody grinned, shaking his head. “Only if you let yourself get taken down. As a defenseman, my job on the ice is to block people. Stop them from getting through to score. Derby is just as brutal.”

“But with less padding.”

Brody snickered, the sound curling gentle fingers around my heart. “You’ll be fine, Ro. With that speed and your skills, you’ll be out of the pack and scoring before you know it. The manager is gonna snap you up.”