Page 75 of Various Intentions

They each took an arm as I managed to stand on legs that wobbled in an alarming manner.

“Where did you say we were meeting Zarah?”

“The Bronson rest area,” Matteo replied.

I blinked at him. “And where’s that, exactly?”

“On the other side of the lake,” Vincent replied.

“The other side of the— I don’t suppose we could have agreed to meet her at a charming canal-side café, instead?”

Vincent and Matteo kept me from falling as I chicken-walked over the carpeted floor to the doors that led out to the ice. I was too preoccupied to appreciate in full the way my partners were dressed, in thick sweaters, jeans and jaunty toques—a traditional outfit on the Rideau canal in Ottawa for temperatures above minus ten. I was thankful for the moderate weather, since it had been bitterly cold the week previous, which meant the frozen canal had been maintained and was in good shape for skating. Now that the sun was well on its way across the sky, the full warmth from its rays became evident, which meant I couldn’t complain about the cold, only about everything else.

“Sorry. When I agreed to this, I assumed you could skate,” Matteo said. “I should have made sure.”

“It’s fine. I’ll be fine,” I said, determined not to be a whiny little child. “Just help me get to the ice.”

I tried to ignore the highly entertained glances Vincent and Matteo kept exchanging, that they didn’t think I saw. At leasttheywere having a good time.

l remembered the mechanics of skating, but the execution was lacking in many, many ways. I kept my arms out to either side like a five-year-old and did as well as I could.

“There you go!” Vincent encouraged as I slipped precariously forward.

Matteo frowned at his watch.

“What?” I demanded.

“I told Zarah we’d meet her at two, and it’s ten after.”

“Oh fuck. That’s my fault,” I said. “Go on. Let her know we’ll be there as soon as we can.”

Matteo looked at me, then at Vincent. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” I said. “Go.”

“All right. Thanks,” he said, peeling away from us with the skating skills of an NHL hopeful.

“What thefuck?” I said. “How canheskate so well?” I glared at Vincent. “Canyouskate like that?”

“Like what?” Vincent said benignly.

“Like…expert level.Canyou?”

Vincent shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”

I closed my eyes, clutching his arm. “Are you a good skater? Tell me the truth, or I will cage your cock for a month.”

“Nic, you don’t scare me.”

“Yeah, I do. I’m the Big Bad Dom.”

“You only scare me if I want you to.”

“Vincent, you are ruining the only thing I have to cling to right now.”

He grinned. He wasn’t sorry at all.

“Can you skate well?” I asked again with succinctness.