Page 16 of Over the Moon (Rosewood River #3)

twelve

. . .

Eloise

“Take it easy, Chadwick,” I called out from the bleachers where I sat watching him.

He was clearly in a mood because he barely acknowledged me when he walked into the ice rink, nor had he given me the time of day since we made our way to the ice.

I’d been surprised to see Brett here when I arrived. I didn’t realize Moe, the man who ran this place, was his grandfather.

Brett had appeared a little down, and he ended up telling me that his father wasn’t doing well.

I may not be a fan of Brett Lewis, but I empathized with what he was going through. Watching someone you love battle cancer was painful and emotional and exhausting.

I lived it, and it had shaped my life in a huge way.

Losing my mother at a young age was traumatic and devastating, but watching her suffer—that had stayed with me

“Oh, are you one of Clark’s coaches?” a woman sitting a few seats away asked, and I turned to look at her. She was sitting with a friend and they appeared to be in their mid-twenties, both very attractive, and they were clearly here to watch Clark.

Why did that bother me?

He was one of the biggest names out there right now in professional hockey.

“I’m a physical therapist,” I said, as I glanced back out at the ice at him.

“Oh, that’s cool,” she said. “I heard you were in town working with him. I’m Sasha, and this is Laney.”

“Hey, I’m Eloise. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Laney said. “So you get to work with all the hockey players? That’s a damn good job.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, my dad is a coach, so I’ve been around the sport my whole life.”

“You’re so lucky. My dad is a surgeon, which sounds cool and all, but I think I’d prefer a hockey arena to a hospital,” Sasha said with a laugh, and I didn’t miss the way both of them kept returning their gaze to the ice.

“Are you guys Lions fans?” I asked, but I already knew the answer. They were here for him.

“We’re big Clark Chadwick fans,” Laney said with a laugh. “I’ve crushed on him since I was a senior in high school. He was a few grades ahead of me, and he’s just a super nice guy, too. Well, I suppose you probably already know that.”

Of course, I did. Clark was the whole package.

A ridiculously sexy hockey player and a really good man.

So why was I so irritated by the comment?

She liked him. He was single. They’d look great together.

“Yes. He’s a great guy,” I said, clearing my throat as I noticed him moving faster than normal down the ice. “I’m so sorry, can you excuse me for a minute?”

“Oh, of course. Nice to meet you,” Sasha called out as I made my way down to the glass surrounding the ice.

“Hey, slow down out there!” I shouted, as he once again raced from one end to the other in an all-out sprint.

“I’m just skating, Eloise,” he said, his voice light and laced with humor.

It caught me off guard because I couldn’t remember him ever using my actual name.

I stormed around the side toward the entrance and made my way onto the ice just as he started making his way down to the other side.

Fast.

Faster than necessary.

This was just a time to skate around while he had the ice to himself. This was not the time to risk an injury.

It was ludicrous.

“Chadwick!” I shouted, my feet sliding from side to side as I tried to get closer. My tennis shoes were no match for the slick surface, and I looked up to see him skating toward me. His eyes were wide when he realized I was out there.

He skidded to a stop abruptly, shooting ice all over me.

I gaped at him, trying to wipe the shards of ice from my eyes, and he used his big hands and tucked my hair behind my ears.

“Are you all right?” he asked, before grabbing both of my shoulders to steady me. “I could have hurt you.”

“You could have hurt yourself,” I said, brushing the ice from my tank top before blowing out a breath. “I told you to slow down.”

“You also told me I could open things up on the ice today.” He moved back as if he wanted space from me.

Hey, that was my job to put space between us.

I stepped forward, not liking the distance. “I didn’t say to go at full speed. You almost hit the wall a few minutes ago.”

“I’m a hockey player, and this is how we skate.” He chuckled, moving back a second time, making it clear this was not something that I was imagining.

“I know that, but you need to slow it down, at least for now,” I said, hands on my hips because I knew how hard he’d worked, and I didn’t want him going too fast just yet and risking another injury.

“Sure, Weeze. I can do that.” He patted me on the head before crossing his arms over his chest, like a barrier between us.

What in the hell was going on? Why was he suddenly acting so weird to me?

“Time’s up for your private skate, Chadwick,” Moe shouted from the doorway, pulling us from our conversation. “We’ve got a bunch of kids here for a party that will be out in the next ten minutes.”

“Thanks, buddy. I was just finishing up,” Clark said.

“Hey, Chadwick. You want to go with us to Booze and Brews for happy hour?” Laney shouted from behind the glass.

He looked at me, and I saw something pass in his gaze, but I couldn’t place it. He leaned down, his gaze locked on mine. “You want to go grab a drink? It is Saturday, after all. We’re off tomorrow.”

I looked up at Sasha and Laney, who were waiting patiently for an answer. “No, that’s all right. I’ve got plans tonight. You should go have some fun.”

Of course, I didn’t have plans. But I had no desire to go watch Clark get fawned all over by two beautiful women

His gaze held mine, and he nodded. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” I said with a nod. “Why wouldn’t you?”

His gaze once again locked with mine before he turned to look at the two women. “Sounds good. Give me a minute to change out of my skates.”

I didn’t know why my hands fisted at my side or why my heart raced when he agreed to go with them. I just insisted he go, and now I was annoyed.

He should definitely go. There was no reason not to.

I attempted to make my way off the ice, but of course, my freaking feet had me walking like a newborn deer.

“Need some help?” he asked, as he quirked a brow, and I continued to try to move forward, even though I was basically staying in the same place but exerting a lot of energy to do so.

“No. I’m fine,” I grumped.

“You’re not fine,” he said against my ear as he snaked a hand around my waist, my back to his chest, lifting me with ease as he glided me toward the opening to step off the ice.

My breath hitched as his lips grazed my earlobe before he set me down on my feet.

“Thank you. You didn’t need to do that. I had it.” I stepped out of the rink and glanced over my shoulder at him.

“Sure, you did,” he said, the corners of his lips turning up the slightest bit, but it seemed forced. He was acting all cool and casual, but something was definitely off.

He sat down and took off his skates while I stood there, brushing off the rest of the ice shards on my tank top.

“You want to come with us, Eloise?” Sasha called out from a few feet away.

And before I could answer, he answered for me.

“Apparently, she’s got a hot date,” he said as he winked at me, but there was an edge in his voice before he walked toward them and turned on the Chadwick charm. “So, you’re stuck with just me, ladies.”

And he walked off with them, not giving me so much as a second glance.

And it bothered me a lot more than it should.

Clark hadn’t texted me since I saw him at the ice rink yesterday, which was a first.

We normally texted throughout the day, and I hadn’t heard a word from him.

And it bothered me.

It really bothered me.

“I wish you could go with me,” I said, as I sat on Emilia’s couch.

“You couldn’t pay me to go sit at a table with Bridger Chadwick. I ran into him at the diner this morning, and if looks could kill, I’d be three feet under.” She held her hand up as if she were slicing her throat, and I chuckled.

“He is convinced you’re writing that column, which, by the way, did you read it yesterday?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, but I heard about it.”

I fell back in laughter. “I don’t even know these people, and I’m invested. I’m guessing they were talking about the mailman because, according to the Taylor Tea , he delivered a lot more than the mail to his much younger lover.”

Now Emilia was laughing, too. “Yes. Apparently, Harvey Lawson, our local mailman, who happens to look like George Clooney if you haven’t run into him yet, has knocked up Cara Carmichael, who’s twenty years his junior.”

“Scandalous. But at least it wasn’t about the Chadwicks this week, right?” I shrugged. “You would tell me if it was you, wouldn’t you?”

She sighed. “Yes, which I assume goes against the code of being an anonymous reporter, but seeing as I’m a florist and not a reporter, I don’t care.

But I sound guilty when I continually insist it isn’t me because then everyone assumes I’m staying loyal to my journalistic integrity.

But I don’t have any journalistic integrity because I’m not a journalist.”

I leaned my head on her shoulder. “I believe you, Em. I’m sorry you have to deal with this.”

“It’s fine. Most people in town have known me my entire life, and they don’t think it’s me.

Actually, the only one who’s ice-cold to me about it is the grumpiest Chadwick,” she chuckled.

“So I just avoid him. I can’t believe I used to have a crush on that guy.

He’s so rude, but he is hot in the broody, alpha sort of way. ”

“You had a crush on Grumpy Smurf?” I fell back in laughter. “And you just described a fabulous book boyfriend. We love a broody alpha.”

“Yes. But we don’t like a broody alpha who glares at you every time he sees you. We can live without that.”

“I meant to tell you, Henley and Lulu saw the book I was reading, and they wanted to read it, too. How do you feel about starting our own little book club? We can meet when we all finish.”

“Oh, I’d love that. Let’s do it,” she said.