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“Ro. You’re incredible on those wheels. It’ll be fine. Just get a good run-up. It’s harder if you’re going slow.” Well, if Brody would risk it, who was I to argue?

I skated about ten meters out before turning and glancing heavenward. The bugs that followed me inside earlier darted and played in the overhead strip lights. I took a breath. I just had to be brave, skate as fast as possible toward the only man who had ever left me breathless, and make sure I stopped before I ruined his ice hockey career. No problem.

My heart battered against my ribs. I had this. With a silent prayer to St. Lidwina, patron saint of skaters, I took off in Brody’s direction, my legs feeling as if they were encased in thick treacle. With each stride, his face drew nearer, and blood rushed around my body even faster. But he didn’t flinch. Kept his eyes on me the whole way. Wide open and trusting.

I got halfway before I realized I had to think about stopping. But with all the hip-holding and the talk of his reputation as a womanizer, I couldn’t remember what he’d shown me. Something to do with parallel legs. Or was it ankles? Feet made more sense, but surely moving my feet would have me going overonmy ankles. I’d end up mangling both of us.

A bead of sweat raced between my shoulder blades, and, about to do something parallel with some part of my lower anatomy, I hesitated. The thought of ruining his career sat front and center in my mind.

Instinctively, I put out a foot, scuffing the floor with my toe stopper. But being a derby skate, it wasn’t the same size as the one on my usual skates. I faltered, tripping over the front of my wheels.

With a loud, “No!” I scrambled to regain my balance, but the last thing I saw was Brody’s wide eyes and his hands lifting to catch me.

The impact when I hit him took the air out of my lungs. I flew like Superwoman. In just his socks, Brody had no traction on the polished floor, so he flew with me. Perhaps a little less like Superwoman, though.

Within seconds, we came to a messy halt, the hard floor and my jawbone connecting with a solid clunk. I closed my eyes, only vaguely aware that I had hold of Brody’s thighs. Like an explosion had perforated my ear drums, all sound muffled, squealed, and the lights had gone out. Had I dislodged my eyeballs?

I dragged my eyes open and lifted my head to check. Nope, they worked. When I looked up, Brody mouthed something at me, his eyes as wide as windows. I moved to take in the full damage of the crash, but a sharp pain tore into the back of my head.

I had a helmet on, so it was unlikely to be a concussion, and although my chin had made contact with the floor, I’d had whiplash before, and it didn’t feel like this. Before I could think, Brody’s hands were down at my neck, undoing my helmet strap.

“Don’t move.”

His words made no sense. Ihadto move. I couldn’t just lay here on the floor between his legs. My face was far too close to his groin for comfort. I must’ve landed almost cheek to zipper. I attempted to push up for a second time, but again, a tearing pain hit the back of my head, and my wrist guards slid on the wooden floor, sending me down again.

“Ro. Stay still.” Brody scooted in closer, leaving me between his solid thighs. I let out a shuddering breath when he gently lifted off my helmet. “Are you okay?” He ran his hands down the bare skin of my arms, then back up to my face, cupping my chin. “I think you’re alive, but I’m not sure how we’re going to untangle you.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

Brody gave a gentle tug to my ponytail, and I followed his fingers with my eyes. Holy hell. In a freak act of nature or the superhuman powers of St Lidwina, my hair was snagged in the zipper of Brody’s jeans.

Heat filled my body. Neither of us was likely to be carrying scissors, and the prospect of being joined to Brody’s crotch for eternity, though somewhat tempting, wasn’t practical.

“What can I do?”

He was up and sitting now while I was still face-planted between his legs. ”I’m trying to work it out, but it’s like untangling fishing wire.”

I sucked in my lips. “Oh, gee, thank you. I know I’m overdue for a conditioning treatment, but that’s a little harsh.” His fingers stopped their work for a beat before he chuckled and carried on, trying to release me.

A minute later, we were still in the same predicament, and judging from Brody’s little growls, the tangle was getting worse. The only alternative to slow torture, face to package, was to release the actual problem. His zipper. A squeak of rubber against the varnished floor caught my attention for a second, but with more pressing matters on my mind, I dismissed it. I took a breath, dying a little inside with what I was about to suggest.

“Just undo it. Undo your zipper.” I swear the corners of Brody’s mouth twitched a little. Of course, he’d be finding this hilarious. He was still living through his third-grade comedy era.

“Okay,“ he ground out. “But let me know if it hurts. If it gets too much.”

He worked away a little longer, trying to un-snag my hair, when the whine of his zipper rang out in the hall, announcing its opening. I held my breath.

By now, the muscles in my back burned with the effort of keeping up and clear of Brody’s crotch. Couldn’t I just rest my head on the top of his thigh and wait for rescue? “Oh, it hurts!” I whined.

“I’m almost there.” His voice was tight and urgent. “Just move your head so I can get a better angle.”

A couple of grunts later, the tightness at the back of my neck released as Brody freed my hair.

“Oh, that feels so good,” I said, my groan ringing around the hall.

“I’m thrilled for you,” said a voice, “but I hope what I just walked in on was more innocent than it looked and sounded.”

Both Brody and I turned our heads to see Finn. He stood by the doors, hands on hips with an enormous grin on his face.