“Huh?” Frankie blinked a few times and glanced up at the hockey scoreboard displaying the time. It was two thirty. Her shoulders hunched. Where had the time gone? “Oh, I didn’t realize.”
“Clearly.” The grump pointed to the door. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need you to clear off the ice. Aaron can’t wait any longer.” Aaron sat atop the Zamboni with an amused expression on his face. “The ice needs a cut so it’s ready for the three p.m. freestyle session. I have lessons to teach.”
The grump was a coach? Huh. Leslie did mention there were some coaches here who didn’t teach any skating academy classes. Made sense. But still, she couldn’t see this guy working with kids.
Frankie blew out air. “I’m done. I’m sorry.” She started toward the door, the grump hot on her tail.
He shut the door to the ice behind her as she heard the Zamboni turn on and enter. She collected her skate guards from the ledge by the plexiglass.
The grump stood there, arms crossed, leaning against the door, watching her. “That’s twice now that I’ve caught you skating alone. You clearly have no respect for the rules of the rink. I should take you to Jack’s office and see what he has to say about it.”
Alarm bells went off in Frankie’s head. She swallowed hard. Words started to tumble out of her mouth. “You’re wrong. Idotake the rules seriously. Safety will always be one of, if not the most, important thing to me. Both times you found me it was happenstance. Please, believe me.” Her legs trembled. “I need this job. I . . . I can get you character references.”
The grump held up his hand. “Even if I cared, that wouldn’t do anything for me.”
Frankie made herself smaller. “I’m sorry,” she repeated in a hushed whisper.
The man ran a hand over his beard. Frankie noticed for the first time that the pocket of the jacket had fancy white embroidery that read “Mr. C.” Heat seared her cheeks. There was only one person who could have a name that started with the letter C. She gulped.
“Charlie!” Leslie shouted in a shrill voice. Both their heads turned to the left. “What are you doing terrorizing my newest skating school instructor?”
All the signs were there. How could I have been so stupid as to miss it? Was it the hair? I mean I vaguely remember that Charlie used to keep it super short. Come to think of it, he never used to have any scruff either.
Frankie shook her head. There was no denying that only Charlie would walk around the Sequoia Valley Ice Center with a cocky swagger as if they’d owned the place.
CHAPTER 4
“Well?” The spitfire of a woman walked right up to her brother and into his personal space, standing a head shorter than him. “I’m waiting for an answer.”
Charlie’s nostrils flared. “It’s none of your business. This conversation is between me and her—”
“Her name is Frankie, and itismy business.” Leslie’s eyes flashed. “I won’t have you acting like a rude, obnoxious bully to the staff. You can treatmehowever you want, but the staff is off-limits. You’re out of line and I’m calling you out on it. After I sort Frankie out, you and I need to have a chat.”
He glared. “I don’t have time—”
One look from Leslie silenced him. Frankie was impressed. She needed to learn how to school her face in the same manner as her supervisor.
“Yes, you do. If you’re running late for your first lesson, maybe you could ask Frankie if she’d be willing to get whoever you have started on warm-ups.” She turned her head. “No pressure, of course. You don’t owe Charlie anything.”
“I’d do it for the kids,” she said in a hushed tone.
“Thank you,” Leslie said.
“But she’s—” he sputtered, throwing up his hands.
“More than qualified.” Leslie crossed her arms. “Frankie just retired from show skating and has more experience than almost every single member of the teaching staff.”
Frankie’s body warmed.
“Fine. I’m too tired to argue with you.” Charlie closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “I normally have Richelle first. She’s working on her novice moves in the field. Have her warm up with forward and backward power pulls.”
Leslie stepped to the side. “Good, now that that’s sorted, you can apologize.”
His eyes opened. His forehead was still creased with tension. His eyes darted from Leslie to Frankie. She noticed for the first time that they were red, almost bloodshot. “Frank . . . I . . . uh . . .”
Leslie cleared her throat. “Her name is Frankie.”
He tried a second time. “Frankie, I’m sorry,” he grunted.
