Page 25 of Daddies on Ice

He laughs at something a teammate says and dimples appear.

Two moms notice that devastating smile and straighten their posture, whispering to each other. I roll my eyes.

“Okay, wolves,” I call, clapping once to focus them. “Let’s hear the howl.”

The first player—I don’t remember his name—takes his place, perching on the child-size chair and opens the book he plans to read, but it’s upside down.

The kids notice immediately and start laughing and pointing. He blushes scarlet and flips it right-side up and starts reading.

Ash is next.

He moves the little chair aside and drops to the carpet so he’s eye level with the kids and opens a book about a stubborn goose who refuses to fly south.

His voice is low and calm.

When he reads the part about the goose who refuses the flock, he tilts his head, amused.

When the goose gets stuck in an early snow, he slows, softer, until the whole room leans forward with anticipation of what happens next.

He looks like he’s built for this—protective without being patronizing, solid without trying to solve.

Of course he is. He’s been like this with Becky since the first time they met.

“Should the goose apologize?” he asks, and a resounding “yes” from the kids fills the room.

He finishes and everyone claps, including the mothers, and I’m almost grateful when Jake elbows Ash aside with a grin because at least my heart can switch fromsafe and steadytodo not fall for thisguy.

And then Jake does voices. Damn, be still my heart!

He chooses a book with a mischievous raccoon, a worried duck, and a grumpy old beaver, and proceeds to give each of them a personality.

He modulates just enough to keep the small ones with him, throws asides to the parents that make them snort quietly, and uses silences like a pro.

He’s good. He’sreallygood.

I’m not surprised to be drawn to Ash. That’s been a slow boil for a long time.

With Jake it hits sideways, ridiculous and irritating and undeniable: attraction igniting where I’ve planted warning signs and electric fences and a whole line ofdo not step heretape.

A tug at my sleeve jerks me out of my inappropriate thoughts. Krystal cheeks pink, eyes bright, looks up at me and holds out half a cookie.

“For Becky’s mom,” she whispers shyly.

“Why, thank you, Krystal. That was very thoughtful of you.”

“Becky said you didn’t have one,” Krystal adds. “And she said you always share with her, so I should share with you.”

I glance over her head. Becky is watching, trying to look casual and failing.

I wink and she grins before turning back to the front where Jake is making the beaver grumble about raccoon footprints. Krystal bounces back to her place next to Becky.

“Nice crowd,” a low voice says behind me. I don’t need to turn to know it’s Carl. “Good press.”

“So far,” I say. “I’m not counting any chickens until the last autograph is signed and everyone’s home with the correct parents.”

“You and me both.”

We stand for a moment in companionable silence while Jake gives the duck a nervous cough and the raccoon a sigh that is somehow a full comedic sentence.