Page 78 of Hotshot

“If you can ski, you can skate.”

“Not me.”

“Youcando it,” I insisted.

“Just leave me here. I’ll be all right.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not giving up.”

I’d specifically waited till the coast was clear to give Hank his first lesson. Not that this was a secret. It wasn’t. I didn’t care who saw me attempt to teach a newbie how to skate. There were probably a few people in the lobby and I was pretty sure Vinnie and Riley were in their offices, but I figured Hank was probably happy not to have an audience.

“You should.” He got to his feet, bracing one hand on the boards as he glanced around the deserted rink. “Is a pillow strapped to my ass still an option?”

I laughed. “No, but I promise to kiss it better later. I’ll even blindfold you if you want.”

“Using sex as a weapon,” he tsked. “You play dirty, sweetheart.”

Geez, I think I blushed. I skated into his space and brushed against him. “I like that…sweetheart.”

Hank flashed a sultry smile, incongruous to the white-knuckled grip he had on the boards. It shouldn’t have been sexy at all. But it was. “Want to get outta here?”

“Skate lesson first. C’mon, big guy, you got this,” I cajoled, praising his itty-bitty strides and offering pointers along the way. Push and glide, head up, knees soft, shift your blades.

You know, it wasn’t pretty, but twenty minutes later, Hank was kind of, sort of skating. It was shaky, like a baby giraffe learning to walk, but at least he’d stopped falling every other minute.

“Hey, not bad,” he said, arms wide, a silly grin on his handsome face. “I’m doing it. I’m skating!”

I clapped. “You’ll be ready for the Elmwood adult rec league next year.”

Except…Hank wouldn’t be in Elmwood next season. And technically, I’d only be here for another couple of weeks. I had a contract to finalize and details to deal with, and if I was moving to New York, I needed to do that before preseason training started. Our window was closing, little by little every day.

He smiled wanly. “You never know.”

I lifted Hank’s fingers to my lips, unthinking, and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, then opened his reddened palm and kissed it too. Seriously, what was I doing? Anyone could pop their head in, and I wasn’t sure there was a logical explanation for holding his hand.

“Your hands are cold.”

“So is my butt.”

I snickered. “You’re a good sport. Can I buy you ice cream to make it up to you?”

“What happened to blindfolding me and fucking me senseless?” he groused.

“Fine print, baby. That was only if you could skate the length of the rink. We’ll try again tomorrow.” I held his hand and guided him to the exit. “Chocolate chip sound good?”

Half the townwas in line at Ye Ol’ Elmwood Ice Cream Shoppe. I’d been at the rink all day, but even at eight thirty p.m., the temperatures were still in the seventies. Camp kids and localslooking for a cool treat at the end of the day were either here or guzzling milkshakes at the diner. I liked both options, but the ice cream store was quick and inexpensive. The Wellers hadn’t raised their prices in the past ten years.

In fact, nothing much had changed in the shop. They had the same black-and-white tiled floor, the same frosted case featuring twenty flavors, and they played the old-time music, which meant it was probably the music my dad heard when he’d come here as a kid.

“Two scoops chocolate chip, Denny?” Mr. Weller asked, holding up a cone.

“Yes, please.” I hooked my thumb at Hank. “My friend is?—”

“I know who your friend is. He’s here almost every day.” Mr. Weller winked. “Two scoops vanilla and pecan pralines and cream, Hank?”

Hank grinned. “Yes, sir.”

“Comin’ right up.”