CHAPTER THREE

PAIGE

“ It’s the setup for a perfect date…”

“Don’t call the cops yet. I have a key,” I explain, grabbing my brother’s forgotten algebra book off the bleacher. “I worked here during high school to subsidize Gage’s extra lessons with a trainer. My boss forgot to collect it, and it’s just kind of hung out on an old key ring since then.”

Growing up, our family was solidly middle class, and my parents contributed to Gage’s hockey dreams at first—mostly to get him out of the house, I assume—but paying for someone to spend one-on-one time teaching my brother was a no-go.

And now that our mom and dad have basically ditched us for their hippie dreams, even more of Gage’s hockey costs have fallen on me. That’s why I applied for one of the team scholarships for him. My teacher’s salary doesn’t cut it when I have all the other expenses associated with raising two boys alone.

“Does that mean you know how to skate?” Ryan asks, changing the subject.

The man has no right looking as good as he does after hours of hockey practice. Disheveled with his finger-combed hair and wrinkled long-sleeved tee, he eclipses most men of my acquaintance—not that many could compare to one of Guardian Valley’s most-sought after bachelors.

“Duh, what do you think kids do around here for fun? There are only two options: skate at the ice rink or hang at the bowling alley.” Or drive out to someone’s land for bonfires and booze, but I was never part of that crowd. No matter how much I wished I could let loose and party, even just for one night.

“Hmm… I think I’m gonna need to see this.” He glides backward with a firm push off the boards. “Come on, show me what you’ve got.”

I shouldn’t.

Gage needs his algebra book, and Levi will probably play video games instead of doing his spelling homework if I don’t get home soon.

But I’m tempted.

What woman wouldn’t be when an attractive man invites her for a private skate? It’s the setup for a perfect date in one of those Hallmark movies I love.

“Gage is with Levi at home, right? They can handle themselves for a little while longer.” A teasing grin brightens his strong features. “Join me on the ice. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

Oh, there’s no doubt in my mind that it’ll be something . Fun, probably. But also exhilarating. Nerve-inducing. Panty-melting.

Because I like Ryan. Not just because he’s good with his players, or because he’s the hottest man I’ve ever met. He has a way about him that makes people feel good about themselves—Gage sings his praises constantly. It’s playful and friendly, and frankly, I could do with a little of that in my life.

Or a lot.

“Okay, but only for a few minutes,” I relent. Dropping my things on the bottom bleacher, I go behind the counter for skate rentals and find my size. It’s nice being here without a crowd of people. Even when I worked here, I was never the last one left to lock up the rink, so this is a first.

“Show me what you’ve got.” Ryan waves his stick over the ice as if giving me the floor, and an urge to show off takes over.

Sure, it’s been almost a year since I last skated—last Christmas season, to be precise—but that doesn’t stop me from executing a quick spin and hopping to where Ryan stands at center ice.

“Impressive. Were you into figure skating in school, too?”

“No, but I watched a lot of them while on shift, and like I said, my friends and I spent a lot of time here, so I picked up a thing or two.”

He shakes his head in wonder then holds his stick out. “With all the games and practices Gage has had, does that mean you’re a hockey pro, as well?”

“Hardly.” I wrap my hands around the offering and start dribbling the puck toward the net, riding high from my earlier performance. Swinging the thin piece of wood back, I send the puck soaring forward and straight into the net before spinning to face Ryan. “But I know my way around a stick.”

A gleam of humor enters Ryan’s eyes, and immediately, I realize what just came out of my mouth. Raising a hand to stop a retort, I mock frown. “You know what I mean, pervert.”

He puts a hand to his heart. “Ouch. Name calling, already? We haven’t even started the game yet.”

“Game?”

“Yeah, we’re playing HORSE on ice.” He regains possession of the hockey stick, snags a new puck, and lands the exact shot as me in the back of the net.

“Is that a thing? HORSE on ice?”

“It is for us, and to make things more interesting, the winner buys hot chocolate.”

I’d rather have a kiss, but he’s smart to keep things G-rated. It wouldn’t be wise to get involved with my brother’s hockey coach.

That doesn’t stop me from agreeing to his terms, though.

“Deal.”