Sorcha stared at him, suddenly struck by how perfectly his words matched her thoughts. There was nothing like it…this pull between them. Nothing likehim.
“I should get going,” she said, cutting the conversation short before she could ask him to come along to the ice skating. That would only make tomorrow’s departure harder.
“What’s on the agenda for today?” he asked, edging closer until she could smell the pine and coffee scent of him.
Did he want her to ask him to come? The hope in his eyes was unmistakable, but Sorcha steeled herself against it.
“I’m going ice skating on the creek,” she said, forcing a brightness into her voice that she didn’t feel.
“Ah.” His eyes lit up with genuine enthusiasm. “I haven’t done that in years, but I have wonderful memories of when I was younger. My buddies and I would spend hours skating along thecreek.” His smile turned self-deprecating. “As a man who is not particularly light on his feet, it’s kind of freeing.”
Sorcha sighed inwardly. Damn this man for being so on her wavelength, as if they were made for each other. Every word he spoke only confirmed what she’d felt since their first meeting, this uncanny sense of recognition, of belonging.
“I’m looking forward to it,” she said and opened her car door, placing her things on the passenger seat.
“Oh yeah, I don’t want to hold you up,” Christopher said, taking a step back.
She could hear the pain in his voice, the confusion, and it hurt. He’d been so kind to her, and she was brushing him off after he’d cooked her dinner and everything last night.
“Thanks so much for yesterday,” she said, keeping her tone professional as if she could kid herself that the near kiss hadn’t meant something, that their relationship was purely platonic, professional even.
Yes. Professional. After all, her article would bring more people to Bear Creek to sample the seasonal delights, and that would mean more business for Bear Creek Cabins.
“My pleasure,” he said, still looking confused.
“I’ll see you later,” she said, and got in the car.
With shaking hands, Sorcha started the engine and somehow drove away without looking back…or worse, getting out of the car and begging him to come with her. As she drove, it was like she could feel the connection between them stretching out, as if she was testing its resilience.
She shook her head and turned the heater up in the car, missing the warmth of his big body next to her. He was hot enough to chase the chill away all on his own. But she was resolved to stick to her plan.
The creek wasn’t hard to find. A hand-painted sign pointed the way to “Winter Skating,” and several cars were already parked along the snow-banked road. Sorcha pulled in behind a minivan festooned with Christmas-themed bumper stickers and got out.
“Beautiful,” she breathed as she took in the scene before her. It could very well make it to the top of her list.
She could not wait to get on the ice and headed for the wooden hut where the guy hiring the skates greeted her with a ready smile. “First time at Bear Creek?” he asked as he helped her find the right size.
“Yes,” Sorcha admitted, handing over the rental fee. “I’m writing an article about winter attractions in the area.”
“Well, you picked a perfect day for skating,” he said, gesturing toward the creek where a dozen or so people glided across the smooth ice. “The surface is prime right now. We cleared it just this morning after the light snow. Stay within the markers, though. Beyond that, we don’t maintain it, and the ice can be uneven.”
Sorcha thanked him and carried her skates to a bench near the edge of the creek. The scene before her was postcard-perfect with children racing each other across the ice, couples holding hands as they made slow circuits, and pine trees heavy with snow creating a natural border. The winter sun caught on the ice, turning it to diamond dust wherever skate blades had carved fresh paths.
She laced up the skates with practiced fingers, tightening them just enough for support without cutting off circulation. The familiar ritual brought back memories of childhood winters, of her father teaching her to skate on the pond behind their house. Those had been good times.
When her skates were secure, Sorcha stood carefully, testing her balance on the packed snow. Then she stepped onto the ice.
The first glide was always magical, that sensation of weightlessness, of flying just inches above the surface. Sorcha pushed off with her right foot, then her left, quickly finding her rhythm. She circled the maintained area once, getting a feel for the ice, then picked up speed.
The cold air kissed her cheeks as she moved, making figure eights and long, sweeping curves. Her body remembered the motions from long ago, muscles responding without conscious thought. She spun slowly, arms outstretched, reveling in the pure joy of movement.
This was freedom; this was what she loved about winter. For a few minutes, she lost herself in the sensation, forgetting everything else.
But even as she skated, feeling the freedom and joy of it, Sorcha realized that something was missing. Or rather, someone. The experience wasn’t complete without Christopher beside her, his comforting presence, his warm smile, his quiet observations that somehow always touched a part of her.
She slowed her pace, suddenly aware of all the pairs on the ice—friends, couples, parents with children. Everyone seemed to have someone to share this with…except her.
An older couple skated past, their mittened hands clasped together, their movements perfectly synchronized after what must have been decades of practice. The woman caught Sorcha’s eye and smiled, a knowing look that seemed to say, “This is what matters.”
