Page 2 of First Dates and Birthday Cakes: MM Romantic Comedy

The ice rink in Milton Keynes was further from Chipping Fairford than the rink in Oxford, but it was significantly bigger. It was still—perhaps predictably—packed on a Saturday afternoon, and as for the parking? A total nightmare.

Even so, my enthusiasm remained undimmed as I handed over my shoes in exchange for a pair of bright blue plastic rental skates, and waddled my ungainly way to the edge of the rink. I hesitated as I surveyed the bustling crowd of families, friend groups and couples thronging the ice, but even the way I felt quite suddenly and conspicuously alone didn’t put me off.

I continued to be convinced that this was a fabulous idea, right up to the moment I stepped confidently through the gate onto the rink, my blades kissed the ice, and I went from vertical to horizontal so quickly, it shocked the breath clean out of me.

I groaned quietly and lay there, trying to get my bearings.

At least I’d fallen away from the gate and wasn’t causing an obstruction or spoiling anyone else’s fun. I could tell by the way the two kids and tired-looking father who’d been stuffed up behind me as I made my bold debut onto the ice swished right on past without stopping.

It was fine. I didn’t need help.

I could definitely get up on my own.

I slither-shuffled on hands and knees further from the gate and pushed up to a kneeling position.

The blood in my cheeks throbbed in time to the banging pop music blaring from the sound system. I looked around and was relieved to see that no one was paying me any attention whatsoever.

At the other side of the rink across from me, a girl with long brown hair squealed happily as she fell. Her friend laughed and pulled her up.

No one gave her a second look.

A teen trying to impress the boy next to him as they passed me attempted to spin around mid-stride and go backwards. He did a quick, skittering running-man instead, before he wiped out and the boy tripped over him.

No one looked at them, either.

All right. Falling was acceptable. It was normal.

Getting up, however? How was I even supposed to do this?

Thank god I was at the edge of the rink and had the barrier to push against. If I’d fallen out there on the open ice without a friend to help me up, I’d have no chance. I’d have to army-crawl my way to the side, or more likely I’d be stuck flopping around until the Zamboni came and cleared the ice, scooting me ahead of it.

I reached for the top of the barrier and heaved myself to my feet.

Feet which immediately tried to go in opposite directions.

I clung on, I skidded around, I used every muscle in my core and some in my inner thighs I hadn’t known I possessed until now, and I made it.

Upright!

Pretending that I hadn’t already been lapped by the tired dad and his two kids, I took a moment.

Okay.

I was here.

I was having fun.

Fun was being had.

My confidence was rattled, but it was fine. It was like riding a bike. Once you learn, you never forget.

I inched my away along, clutching the barrier and dragging myself hand over hand.

Any minute now, my skills would kick back in and I’d join the happy, laughing crowd. Any minute now, I, too, would be zipping around with a big smile on my face, cheeks red from cold and exertion rather than embarrassment.

Maybe I’d get into skating in a big way. Take lessons. Get amazing.

And while I couldn’t see me doing anything with my skills once I’d got amazing, I’d heard that skating did fabulous things for your arse. It couldn’t hurt to tighten things up back there. I’d been slacking on the squats and lunges during my workouts recently, and it was starting to show.

A favourite tune came on over the speakers. I bopped my head cautiously.

Who needed the gym? Who needed a treadmill, or an elliptical? Why sit on an unpleasantly damp padded bench and heave weights up and down when instead, I could move my body to the music and glide around like a graceful, prowling ice panther.

Like that guy.

I spared the man a quick glance as he buzzed past for the third time. Our eyes met, his lips curled, and then he was gone.

He was tall. Muscular but lean, not bulky. Definitely prowling and graceful. Make that insultingly graceful. Way too at his ease when some of us ice panthers were still hauling themselves laboriously around while their bodies were remembering how to do it. His attitude was very in your face. He even had his hands in his pockets, the dick.

I wobbled and clutched at the barrier.

Concentrate.

You know what? This was fun. I was enjoying myself. I’d found my feet and I was steady now. More or less. The air, chilled from the ice, felt nice against my skin. I began to smile. I wasn’t half bad at this, and I?—

I ran out of barrier.

I stopped smiling and my eyes widened.

The bottom end of the rink had been cordoned off with cones to create an enclosed space for the toddlers and small kids. A whole gaggle of them were out there, shoving their skating aids about, their fat little legs working furiously as they scuttled over the ice behind rigid plastic penguins and polar bears with handles coming out of their necks.

Some of the children were sitting down, chilling. Others stood around, looking baffled.

It was cute and adorable, but wow. Selfish. How was I supposed to get to the barrier on the other side?

I had to go out onto open ice.

Nope.

No.

Time to backtrack.

I turned around, immediately got shoulder-checked by a blond kid with acne and a murderous scowl, and hit the ice.

I blinked up at the metal beams in the ceiling overhead.

So.

This rink was on a one-way system. Made sense.

I hauled myself back up and took a moment to assess the lay of the land.

If I was very, very careful—and if everyone around me was also very, very careful, and didn’t take me out—I could cross over to the other side of the rink.

If I fell? Big deal. I fell.

I wouldn’t enjoy scrabbling on hands and knees along the line of plastic cones across what looked like a hundred feet of ice, being sneered at by teens, grinned at by kids, and having parents make a yikes face as they passed by, but I could do it.

I let go of the barrier one reluctant finger at a time. I checked behind me then fixed my gaze on the opposite side of the rink, flipped out a hand to indicate I was on the move, checked behind me once more, and pulled out into the stream of happy people.

And…I was doing it.

Wow.

I was doing it.

This was great. Oh. I felt great.

I was bold and brave and halfway across the ice.

This was a fabulous idea. It was a fantastic start to my forties. I was engaged, present, fully in my body and in the moment.

From here on in, I vowed, no more bemoaning my age, no more being glum about everything I’d failed to do or acquire. Nothing but clear, crisp positivity. I was embracing my next decade of life with open arms and a tender kiss on the lips, and?—

“Whoops. Hah. Sorry, mate.”

I hit the ice flat on my back and the radiant young couple who’d decked me skated on without a second look.

Fuck.

Fucking fuck.

Before I could even roll over and attempt to get up without the assistance of the barrier, someone whooshed to a stop right beside me, and said, “Are you okay?”

I wiped the small spray of snow from my face and glared up at the guy. It was the arrogant ice panther. Of course it was. “Sure.”

I couldn’t tell with any degree of accuracy from my position on my back, but he had to be over six feet tall. An ungodly amount of it seemed to be leg. He towered over me like a colossus.

Like a giant, blond, handsome colossus.

“Is this your phone?” He dropped into a squat as easily if he was in a yoga studio, not balanced on blades, and scooped it up.

It must have shot out of my back pocket when I landed on my arse. Ravi was always on at me not to put it there, especially after I’d dropped it down the toilet—twice

“Shit,” I said, and groaned my way up to sitting. “Is it cracked?”

He checked it out. “Nope. Looks good.” He turned it over and smiled at the Jurassic Park stickers on the back. “Dinosaur fan or film fan?”

Was he laughing at me?

“Both,” I said.

He gave it back and I quickly stuffed it in my pocket.

Straightening, he held out a big hand. “Let’s get you up, hey?”

“I’m fine,” I said.

I was not fine and we both knew it. People zoomed by. Music played on. He looked at me. I looked at him.

“You need any help?” he asked, raising his brows.

“Nope.” I flailed my legs around and got absolutely nowhere. “This is easier with something to hold onto,” I told him. After a short crab walk and some more flailing while he stood over me and watched with interest, I slumped. “Maybe I could do with a little help,” I said. “How am I even supposed to do this?”

“It’s not that hard. Get on your hands and knees for me.”

He returned my suspicious squint with an innocent look. “And then what?” I asked.

“I’ll get you on your feet. Come on. Let’s go.”

I did as he suggested, and the moment I was on all fours, strong hands fitted around my waist and he plucked me up off the ice.

“Ahhh.” My legs skittered like Bambi”s but he held me tight, even when I bounced off his very firm chest and somehow got a leg between his thick thighs.

“Stop struggling,” he said with amusement.

It was tough, but I managed. Then I realised that I’d plastered myself to his front, I was clutching his extremely hard biceps, and I had to tip my head back to meet his gaze.

His eyes were blue.

They’d looked dark from where I lay sprawled at his feet, but this close, I could see that they were an incredible navy blue.

“Okay?” he said, after I’d stared at him like the creepiest person on the planet without saying a word for what felt like a full minute but was probably only about ten agonisingly awkward seconds.

“Yes. Great. Thanks.” I continued to clutch him.

He smiled again. This one was slower. Warmer. “Need some help getting over to the side?”

“I’d like to say that I can take it from here, but I think that would be overly optimistic of me.”

“No problem,” he said, and turned us in a quick, tight circle.

I shrieked.

I shrieked so loudly that the trio of tweens giggling their way past us all turned as one with appalled stares.

He was trying hard not to laugh.

“Warn a guy,” I snapped.

“Sorry. Ready to go?”

He skated slowly backwards, drawing me after him.

My feet went out from under me, I lurched forwards, and I body-slammed him. “No.”

I should just ask him to carry me. It wasn’t like I had any dignity left.

He peeled me off him, set me back, and said with patience, “Let’s go again.”

I heaved a sigh. “You’re not going to believe this, but I can skate.”

“I don’t believe it.” He moved off again and I shuffled after him. He squeezed my arms above the elbows, where he was holding me firmly.

He had big hands. Big, warm, confident hands.

“Stop looking at your feet,” he said.

I wasn’t looking at my feet, I was looking at his hands. I quickly looked at my feet. “I’m trying not to trip you up.”

“You let me worry about that. Don’t look down.”

“I hate that phrase. No one ever says it unless you’re in peril.”

He huffed a laugh. “You are not in peril.”

“Tell that to my arse. It is going to be absolutely covered in bruises tomorrow. And my elbows.” They’d made a heck of a noise, cracking down on the ice earlier.

He didn’t say anything until I glanced up. “Yeah. That’s it. Look at me. Keep looking at me.”

I did. Mostly because I couldn’t look away.

Something gently bumped against my back. He’d manoeuvred me across the ice and got me safely to the barrier without me even noticing, let alone falling. “Oh,” I said. “Thank you.”

He stared down at me.

This close, the height difference was much more noticeable.

I was a gangly five-eleven on a good day. In other words, not today. Today, my core was clenched with tension and my shoulders were rounded protectively. It made a difference. It took off an inch. Today, I was probably only hitting five-ten. He had to be nudging six-three.

I bet he went down like a redwood.

“It must really hurt when you fall over,” I said.

He cocked his head.

I gestured from the ice all the way up the length of his body. “You’re tall. Must be like a tree falling.”

His lips were a lovely deep pink. The lower one was fuller and he had a pronounced Cupid’s bow. They tipped up at the edges as he leaned in and said, like he was sharing a secret, “I don’t fall over much. I’m very good at skating.”

“Are you?” Was it me or did I sound breathless?

“Yes.”

“Me too. I mean, I used to be.”

He gave me that disbelieving look again as he glided back a foot and turned to lean against the barrier beside me, tipping his head down to keep his eyes on mine. He spread his arms wide and lounged, relaxed and comfortable.

“I did! It’s been a few years. I thought it would all come back. It didn’t.”

“How long is a few years?”

“Uh. Thirty? Thirty years.” I winced when I realised I’d just confessed to being decrepit.

”In that case, perhaps you need to be on the ice for more than ten minutes before you can say you gave your skills a chance to come back.”

“Ten minutes?” I checked my watch. “My god. It felt like I was out there forever.”

“You want to give it another go?” he said.

People were zipping past us. Some were as confident about it as he had been when I first saw him, weaving in and out of the throng with calm faces. Others were more like me, going so tentatively that their skates were barely engaging with the ice. There were groups of kids on the loose, kids with parents, a few older people like me, and even an elderly man with white hair who was looping his way around the rink with an air of utter absorption.

I was already here. I’d already made a prat out of myself. The damp patch of melted ice on my arse and the dull throbbing in my elbows bore testament to that. Everyone around me was smiling and pink-cheeked. Why not attempt to join them?

He nudged me gently. “Yes?”

I stopped clinging to the barrier and wobbled to a (mostly) upright position. “Yes,” I said.

“All right! That’s what I like to hear. Now, before you—oh, shit.”

I took one step, my legs went out from under me, and my kneecaps hit the ice with a sound like fucking walnuts being cracked at Christmas.

He shoved his hands under my arms, and hauled me up again.

I was so surprised at how easily he moved me about, I went as limp as a ragdoll cat.

He propped me against the barrier. “Try it again, but this time, keep in contact with the ice.” He pointed at himself and demonstrated a graceful, easy start.

Right. Don’t pick your foot up like you’re walking. Got it.

Honestly, I could have watched at least one tutorial on YouTube before I left the house.

He swivelled around to face me with a fluid twist of his hips, and held out his hands expectantly.

He did it with such confidence, I put my hands in his without even questioning it. He closed his fingers around mine, and squeezed gently. “I’m Jakub, by the way. Jake.”

“Ben.”

“Okay, Ben. Let’s go. Just like I showed you. It’s easy as—oh, shit.”

He caught me before my knees hit the ice a second time.

Unfortunately, only just.

In other words, I was now dangling from the hands he’d wedged under my arms, I had my nose pressed to his abs a scant inch above the waistband of his tight grey sweatpants, and my dick was being stupid about it.

Of course my dick was being stupid about it.

He smelled divine. Laundry detergent, a woodsy body wash, and clean, warm man.

For god’s sake. I mentally smacked myself.

I clutched his hips and made the mistake of looking up and meeting his eyes.

He was laughing at me.

My face went so hot, I was astonished I didn’t bore a hole straight through the ice and down into the bowels of Hell.

To whence I would like to consign this whole day, frankly.

He stopped laughing and made a soft noise as he hauled me up. “I’m not laughing at you,” he said. “I’m laughing with you.”

I straightened my spine and pushed his hands off me, avoiding his gaze. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were laughing at me. I’m being ridiculous. This whole idea was ridiculous. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

I should have stayed at home and sulked.

“Ben. Hey.” He tapped my shoulder, making me look at him. “You’re not being ridiculous. You’re having a good time.”

“Usually when I’m having a good time, I smile more.”

“Then let’s see if we can make you smile more. Come on, try again. You’re good at this remember?”

“I was good,” I said, aggrieved. “I really was! I don’t know what’s going on. Actually, yes I do. I think it’s the skates.”

“The skates?”

“Yes. Last time I came, I had the kind of skates that lace up. These ones are made out of plastic. They’ve got clips, like ski boots.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “That’s probably it, then.”

“You think?”

“Yep. We can solve that, easy.” He grabbed my hands, scooted me backwards, ignoring my yelp as I clutched at him, and turned me around. He crowded behind me, propelled us to the exit, and manoeuvred me off the ice and onto solid ground.

Hallelujah.

“This way,” he said, and herded me from the rink to the benches and lockers close to the skate rental counter, where he sat me down.

I stared at him, wide-eyed, as he went to his knees before me.

What the?—

Oh.

He unsnapped my right skate with a practiced flick of his thumb, and patted my calf. “Up.”

I did as I was told, and was quickly stripped of first the right and then the left skate.

“Stay right there,” he said, standing to his full height, which was even more impressive from where I sat. “I’ll be right back. Okay?”

“O-kay.” My throat clicked.

He paused to grin at me before he stalked off to the counter, approximately ten feet tall with the extra lift from his skates.

There wasn’t much of a queue, what with the public session being in full swing by now, but there were a couple of people waiting. For a horrified moment, I thought he was going to shove his way to the front and demand a new pair. Instead, he opened the door next to the hatch marked STAFF, let himself in, and vanished from sight.

I really hoped that he worked here.

Folding at the waist, I laid my forearms along my thighs, letting my hands dangle.

What the fuck was I even doing?

I was getting all hot and bothered over the sexy, athletic young thing taking pity on my incompetent, middle-aged arse, going above and beyond his job description, and being nice about it. That’s what I was doing.

That poor boy had no idea that, while he was helping with my skates, I was sitting here, thinking about those hard abs I’d had my face squashed against, about those ridiculously long legs, the truly phenomenal arse I’d goggled at as he strutted ahead of me, and most of all, about the kindness in his strong hands and the patience in his pretty eyes.

I let the sounds of happy people and shouting kids wash over me as I waited for him to return.

It didn’t take long. Not two minutes later, Jake reappeared with a new pair of boots. His gaze arrowed straight to the bench where he’d left me sitting in my socks. The faint frown on his face vanished as soon as he saw me.

He stalked over and, once again, went to his knees before me.

I was almost sure I’d kept my lecherous and inappropriate thoughts off my face, going on the bright smile I received when he glanced up at me, before he grabbed my ankle and lifted my socked foot.

I swayed backwards, tipped off balance, and heard a dull thud as my phone fell out of my pocket and bounced off the bench to the floor.

Keeping hold of my ankle, Jake swiped the phone up and handed it to me. I murmured my thanks and stuffed it back in my pocket, making a mental note to wear baggier jeans if I decided to give skating another go. Right now, I was on the fence.

“Try this,” he said, slipping my foot into the boot.

It was another cheap blue plastic rental skate.

“They didn’t have any of the good ones available?” I said, not hiding my disappointment well. Or at all.

“These are the only ones they hire out. You want the good ones, you have to buy a pair and bring them.”

“How much will that set me back?”

“About fifty pounds for a basic pair, a hundred for a decent pair.”

That wasn’t too bad, and it was a one-off payment. My rarely used gym membership was currently sucking forty quid a month out of my bank account. Maybe, if I got back into this, I’d treat myself. Freeze the gym membership, buy some good skates. Come back here. See him again…

Jake braced my leg and snapped the clips closed. “How does that feel?”

I had enough room to wiggle my toes and the boot didn’t pinch, except for where it pressed down on the top of my foot. I always had that problem with shoes and boots. I got the high arches from my mother.

“Feels pretty good,” I said.

“Yeah?”

I nodded.

“All right.” He gave my other calf a light smack. “Now this one.”

Again, I lifted my foot and watched while he tucked it into the boot for me.

It wasn’t until the press of his thumb in a sensitive spot made me suck in a startled breath that I suddenly thought, hang on a minute. What’s going on here?

There was being helpful, and there was this: Jake, on his knees, putting my skates on for me.

That wasn’t normal.

…was it?

Maybe I wasn’t the only one having inappropriate thoughts here.

Maybe Jake was having some inappropriate thoughts of his own.

This time when he looked up at me expectantly, there was a little…?

Was there?

…was there a little something in his eyes?

We stared at each other for a long, charged moment.

“Well?” he said.

“Well?”

He wrapped his big hands around both my calves and shook my legs cheerfully. My thighs wobbled. Okay, that wasn’t sexy. “How does that one feel?”

“Uh. Kind of the same as the other one.”

“Comfortable?” he checked.

I wiggled my toes again. “Yes.”

“This should make all the difference. Ready to go and give them a try? ”

He stood up, slowly and from his position right between my legs, giving me plenty of time to absorb the delicious unfolding of his tall body. He flashed me another smile and tipped his head in the direction of the ice. “If you want to do this, Ben, let’s go.”

I pushed up off the bench and tested my balance. They did feel better. After another long stare, Jake gave a challenging lift of his chin and strode off. Like a duckling, I waddled after him, and he hauled me straight onto the ice.

He scooped an arm around my waist, turned me, and skated me backwards until we were clear of the gate. The manoeuvre also happened to put us chest to chest, which I wasn’t mad about.

All of this before I had a chance to catch my breath or protest.

He propped me against the barrier and gave me some personal space.

Not a whole lot, I couldn’t help but notice.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “It’s easier for the general flow to move away from the gate as soon as possible.”

Once again, Jake held out his hands to me, this time at waist height. He opened and closed his fingers in unspoken demand.

Once again, I took them without question—I had to stop doing things just because a gorgeous stranger told me to—and let him rearrange the grip so that I was holding onto his thick forearms instead. Muscle flexed beneath my palms.

“Get a feel for it,” he said. “Ben?”

“Huh?” I dragged my gaze off his flexing forearms.

He moved his skates forwards and backwards, then held in place and bounced up and down lightly. “Feel your connection to the ice. Settle your centre of gravity nice and low. Don’t be afraid to bend your legs a lot more than you think you need to. Wiggle around a bit. I won’t let you fall.”

“Good luck trying to stop me.”

“I”m doing all right so far.”

“You are, thank you.”

He squeezed.

I dropped my weight down into the blades and shuffled my feet cautiously. “Wow. These skates are seriously so much better! Who knew!”

“It’s just a matter of finding the right pair for you. Ready to go?”

“Yes!” I said with enthusiasm. And then, when he let go, “No!” with equal enthusiasm.

He laughed. “Come on. Like this. You can do it.” He stood beside me, and pushed off gently.

Fine. I had to try. I did, after all, come here to skate, not to cling to a beautiful man and let him do all the work.

Although, clinging to a beautiful man and letting him do all the work was one of my very favourite things to do.

Just not in a public forum.

I pushed off, braced for impact, and…did not fall over.

“You”ve got it,” Jake said with an encouraging nod. “Now keep going.”

I dug in, pushed off, glided forwards. Shifted my weight into my left foot, did it again…right foot…left… “Hah!” I said. “I told you I was good at skating!”

“Yep.” His eyes sparkled at me when I turned to look up at him in triumph, and widened when I tripped.

I groaned and sat up on my aching butt. “That was your fault,” I said.

“How was it my fault?” He crouched down, snagged me, and dragged me back up, all in one uninterrupted and well-practiced movement.

You sparkled at me and felled me with your sexiness.“You made me look up. Totally compromised my balance.”

“In that case, I can only apologise.”

“Forgiven,” I said loftily, then yelped and grabbed for him when he pushed me backwards. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you used to the feel of the ice.”

“Backwards, though?”

“Feel the ice, Ben. Don’t think about it, relax into it. I’ve got you.”

I stopped watching my feet and met his eyes instead.

I’ve got you.

My heart skipped.

“All right,” I said.