Page 11 of Over the Moon (Rosewood River #3)

eight

. . .

Eloise

I was glad that I’d spoken to Everly and booked some time on the ice for Clark. He lit up when I told him, and when we arrived at the ice rink, I could tell how anxious he was to get out there.

“You’re not going to do anything crazy,” I reminded him as I let go of the wall and moved to skate beside him.

“You don’t want to race me, Weeze?”

“Not happening.” I arched a brow and then nearly lost my balance because it had been a while since I’d put on a pair of skates.

Clark quickly moved behind me to steady me as I hurried toward the wall, grabbing on just before I made a fool of myself and fell. “It’s just been a while. I’m fine, I promise.”

He skated in front of me as I skated beside the wall so I could grab on if I needed to. “You know what we need?”

“Elbow and knee pads?” I said over my laughter because I was wobbly as hell.

Clark was skating right behind me, and then “Hey, Ya!” From OutKast started playing, and he moved in front of me. He set his phone on the ledge, setting the volume as high as it would go, as he skated backward, smirking at me.

I wondered if he even had a clue how ridiculously sexy he was.

Tousled hair. Green eyes. Broad shoulders. Plump lips.

It was unfair and infuriating all at the same time.

“Give me your hand,” he said.

“No. I need to stay next to the wall.”

“You either give me your hand, or I’m going to start doing some crazy hockey moves, and you won’t be able to catch me to stop me.” A wicked grin spread across his handsome face.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a stubborn ass?” I hissed, reaching for his hand as I stumbled over my own feet.

“Many times.” Before I knew what he was doing, he moved behind me, my back to his chest. His legs rested against the outside of mine, and his arms were wrapped around me just above my chest. My breath hitched in my throat, but I didn’t pull away.

“You’re helping me every day in the gym; let me do this for you. This will help you keep your balance. Just follow my strides,” he said, as he spoke against my ear. His lips grazed my skin, and I nearly fell, but he chuckled and held me close. “Look forward, Weeze. I’ve got you.”

That’s the problem at the moment.

When the chorus played and we made our way around the ice, he started swaying both of us to the beat. I couldn’t help but laugh, and my body relaxed against his.

We continued skating this way, the songs changing on his playlist, and he’d change it up and pull back, moving us from side to side and around in a circle.

I was still laughing when the timer went off on my phone, and I realized our time was up.

“Time’s up, Hotshot,” I said, clearing my throat.

He led us to the wall, and I stepped off the ice, sitting down to take off my skates and put on my sandals, as he did the same.

“Thanks for that,” he said. “Man, I needed some ice time.”

“You really love what you do, don’t you?” I asked, but I already knew the answer. This man oozed joy when he was out on the ice. Hell, even in the gym, pushing himself so hard he was soaking wet, he still had a big smile on his face.

“I really do.” He reached for my skates and led us out of the rink. “How about you? Do you love what you do?”

“Well, it’s still new, but I’m passionate about it. I’m excited when I wake up in the morning.”

“Careful, Weeze. Sounds like you enjoy working with me, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

He was right. And this was all getting a little too flirtatious. I needed to make sure I kept my boundaries in place.

I was a professional after all.

“Don’t get a big head. It’s just that I enjoy helping people,” I said, glancing down at my phone to see the time.

“You got to be somewhere? Do you want me to give you a ride home?” he asked, as we’d taken his truck from his house over here.

“No. I’m good. I’ve got a meeting with Randall, and I could use the walk after slipping around on the ice,” I said, as we pushed outside, and he paused in the parking lot. “Good job today. I’ll see you later.”

I held my hand up and waved because I needed some distance there.

We were getting too close, and it was a big red flag.

And I steered clear of red flags.

My father and I had always done Sunday dinners, but dinner at the Chadwicks’ was next level.

Dinner with my dad was conversations about hockey, school, and my grandparents.

But dinner at Clark’s parents’ house was quite possibly the most entertaining experience of my life.

The Chadwicks made you feel like you belonged there, and that wasn’t a familiar feeling for me.

“I’m so happy you could join us,” Ellie, Clark’s mom, said. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

“Thank you for having me.” I passed the salad to Clark, who sat to my right. Lulu was on my left, and she handed me the basket of warm rolls.

“Your father must be awfully proud of you working with the team now,” Keaton asked. He and Ellie were the kind of parents you saw on a TV sitcom. They were funny and sweet, and you could see how much they adored their children.

I’d met all the brothers, Easton, Bridger, and Rafe, as well as his cousin, Axel, at pickleball, and tonight was my first time meeting Axel’s brother Archer, and his little girl, Melody.

Lulu, Henley, and I had become fast friends.

I’ve played pickleball with them four times now, and I had a lot of fun with both of them.

Isabelle and Carlisle were Archer and Axel’s parents, and they lived next door.

This family could be on a reality show, because they were hilarious, and they played off one another so well.

“How close are you with Emilia Taylor?” Bridger grumped from across the table.

He was the toughest read in the bunch.

He didn’t give much away, and he seemed pissed off most of the time.

“I love Emilia. I rent her guest cottage, and she’s been a great friend since I moved to town.”

“That’s all I needed to know,” he said, before glancing around the table as if he’d just proven his point.

Emilia had mentioned that he was particularly cold to her and that there were some issues with the Chadwicks regarding her parents’ newspaper, but I didn’t realize how serious this was.

Bridger’s gaze found mine, looking at me like I just admitted I was best friends with Satan himself.

It pissed me off.

Emilia was kind to her core.

“Ignore him,” Clark said. “He’s got it in his head that Emilia has it out for us.”

“It’s not in my head—it’s actually written in ink, genius,” he snapped at his brother, and the table erupted in laughter.

“You don’t even know that she has anything to do with it,” Henley and Lulu said at the same time, and then turned and high-fived one another for it.

“Eloise.” Bridger directed his question to me. “Let me ask you something.”

“Okay.” I cleared my throat and dabbed my mouth with my napkin.

Bring it on, Grumpy Smurf.

“Did you tell Emilia that you’re training my brother? That he’s been improving every day,” he said, putting his hand up to stop me before I started to answer. “Specifically, did you mention that you and he went out on the ice for the first time this week?”

“I-I, er, yes? Emilia and I met for dinner after Clark and I had gone to the ice rink. Was it supposed to be a secret?”

“Nope. Just a fact. Thanks for clearing that up,” he said, looking directly at Clark.

“Come on,” Clark said. “There were several people at the ice skating rink. And everyone in town knows that I’m training with Eloise because she’s living here full-time while she’s training me. It’s not a secret. You’re reaching.”

“What am I missing?” I asked hesitantly, directing my question to Lulu and Henley.

“The Taylor Tea wrote an article about Clark getting out on the ice for the first time yesterday. They made it sound like there was an issue because he was skating with his physical therapist, so they assumed something must be wrong.” She shrugged.

“But Emilia Taylor is not the only person who knew you were there.”

“Oh, do we think that Old Man Moe, a man who can barely form a complete sentence, is writing a weekly column in the Taylor Tea ?” Bridger hissed. “Come on, now. The man had his pants on inside out the last time I saw him. He’s not savvy enough to pull this off.”

“Old Man Moe runs the ice rink,” Henley whispered, leaning over Lulu to fill me in.

“Emilia assured me that she is not involved in the family business. In fact, she has no idea who is writing that column,” I said, reaching for my glass of wine because the man across the table looked like he might murder me.

“Oh, then, by all means, if Emilia doesn’t admit that she’s the devil, she must not be,” he deadpanned, his voice void of all emotion.

“Bridger, you need to take it down about twenty notches. You’re being rude.” Keaton stared hard at his son.

Ellie smiled at me and then turned her attention to her eldest child. “Yes, you should listen to that song I sent you from Jelly Roll, “Dead End Road.” It’s about how you’ve got to stop living on a dead-end road.”

“And you’ve got to stop quoting Jelly Roll to get your point across, Mom,” Bridger grouched, and more laughs filled the room.

“Honey, I’m telling you, that man is deep in thought. The Taylor Tea is not something you can control. You need to quit living on that dead-end road, my love,” Ellie said.

Rafe took a moment to contain his laughter as he wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I agree, brother. You need to let it go,” Rafe said.

“Yeah. I really like Emilia. I just stopped by her shop and got a couple of bouquets for the house, and she’s really great. I think you’re misreading her.” Lulu lifted her wine glass and took a sip.

“And she would be happy to sub on the Chad-Six anytime we need her,” Henley said, softening her gaze as she looked at Bridger.

“I saw her play during free play, and I think we can pass on that offer.” Easton shrugged before looking at me. “Sorry. No offense to her. I just like to win.”

Axel barked out a laugh. “At the rate people are dropping from the Chad-Six, I wouldn’t count her out.”