He turned and caught her staring. She looked away, only to see that Millie had repositioned herself at her feet, her tail wagging, and paws in front of her. She whined.
“I don’t have any treats for you; sorry, girl.” She leaned forward to scratch the dog’s ears. Her fur was silky soft. Millie licked her hand.
“Millie, you know better than to beg,” Charlie chuckled. Millie sat up. “Your drink is on the side table.” The dog let out a second high-pitched whine. He crossed his arms. “Nope. If you want a treat, you’ll have to go find your mama.”
The dog huffed and slowly sauntered back toward the fireplace.
“She definitely understands you.”
He shrugged as he sat down. “I speak dog fluently. It’s one of my many gifts.”
She wondered how she should play this.I should stay away from asking anything too personal. Skating is a safe topic. I’ll try to stick to that.
“When I was with Leslie yesterday, she said you guys have lived in the area for a couple of years. I never asked, but what drew you to it?” Frankie took a sip of her drink. The lemon and cherry flavors hit her tongue in the perfect blend of sweet and savory.
“Family?” He stroked his chin. “My nan doesn’t live too far from here. I always enjoyed the quaintness and generally slower pace of life when I visited her. When I retired from competitive skating, I knew I wanted out of SoCal. Moving here just seemed like the logical answer.
“The crazy thing is, the day I signed my apartment lease, Leslie discovered there was a dilapidated rink for sale a five-minute drive away. Because of the amount of repair work it needed, it was listed dirt cheap. Leslie managed to talk me and Uncle Jack into pooling our resources together, and a few years later, here we are.”
Frankie sat back in her seat. “That’s one heck of a story.”
“I wouldn’t believe it myself if I hadn’t lived through it.” He leaned an elbow against the arm of the chair. “What about you? Why did you decide to move here?”
“My dad.” She stared at the floating pieces of ice in the glass. “I decided I wanted to be closer to keep an eye on him.”
“You mentioned the other night that it’s just the two of you.”
“Yeah. It is.” She nodded. “Dad has lived in Grizzly Springs most of his civilian adult life. I couldn’t see him ever wanting to move, so here I am, back where it all started.”
“He was in the military?”
She nodded again. “The Navy.”
The buzzer went off. They stood and made their way back to the reception area. It was more crowded than earlier. The sound of many conversations filled the room. The hostess took the device and placed them at a table in the red room.
When the waitress came, Charlie ordered fried artichokes for them to split as an appetizer. Alone again, they continued their conversation. “How have you found the adjustment transitioning from being on the road as a professional tour skater to normal life?”
She considered his question as she drummed her fingers on the table. “At first, I was so busy with Dad and settling in. I didn’t have time to think much about the change of pace. But now that I have more time on my hands, I don’t like it. I’m the type of person who needs to stay busy. I like having places to be and things to do.”
“Are you looking for more hours at the rink to pass the time?” He placed a napkin on his lap. “I know you’re still new to coaching, but if you’re open to it, I wouldn’t mind having you help me with some of my students. You were fantastic with Richelle, Kaylee, and Steve. They all keep asking about you.”
Her pulse picked up. He wanted her to coach with him? Was he being serious? Her?
She arched an eyebrow. “I’ve only been coaching since I moved back. That’s less than a month.”
“When I started coaching, I had no idea what I was doing either. It’s all about trial and error. You learn along the way. I’ll never get used to the number of times I find myself repeating what my coaches once told me.”
“You have the pedigree of being a world-class and international-level pairs skater. I only made it to the junior level. I wouldn’t have much to offer your students.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. You’re selling yourself short. As a show skater, you have more performance skills than any other coach on the staff, including myself. And I looked at your resume. You forgot to mention that you were anationalmedalist. One half of one of the three best junior teams in the US. That’s ahugeaccomplishment. How many people can lay claim to that? What did surprise me, though, was that I didn’t see you list anything about senior pairs.”
Charlie had hit upon a sore spot. She rubbed the back of her neck and stared at the place setting on the table. “I never had the opportunity to skate seniors.”
His eyes widened. “Really? Why not? What happened?” he asked in a hushed undertone.
“Puberty. It hit me at the worst possible time, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I lost my jumps, then I lost my partner.”
Charlie frowned. “What blockhead were you skating with?”
