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Misty River’s temporary ice rink operated from the weekend before Thanksgiving to the weekend after New Year’s thanks to technology that kept it mechanically frozen even on warmer days. The rink’s short timeframe had never been a problem for Connor because he’d only skated twice before in his life. Both times had been a disaster. He hadn’t been tempted to skate since.
He’d hoped to make progress with Shay by spending time with her and by making adjustments according to her taste. She loved to ice skate and she’d advised him to invite Molly out on an activity Molly loved for their first date. So here he was.
Any chance, though, that he was gutting potential progress with Shay by trying on stretchy pants in front of her and showing her how bad he was at ice skating?
They carried their rented skates to one of the benches facing the rink and bent to lace them. The town of Misty River had installed the rink on a small parking lot, bordered on three sides by a park. On the parking lot side, they’d added a booth for tickets and skate rental, seating, area heaters, and a coffee truck.
“It’s fortunate for me that Molly loves to ice skate,” Shay said, “because as it happens, I also love to ice skate.”
“Oh?” he said neutrally.
“Yep. I love skating! My grandma used to bring us a few times every winter.”
He frowned at the rink. The ice looked deceptively pretty and the people skating smoothly around the oval made it look deceptively easy. There was a reason he hadn’t become a hockey player. In fact, there was a reason why he’d poured all his time and skill into art instead of sports in general.
He worked out five days a week on the rowing machine in the basement. A few times a year he went on an adventure race with his uncle and cousins—where they’d spend days in the wilderness using navigation, hiking, and paddling to make their way through a course.
Rowing machines and adventure races—the most coordinated things he could manage.
Shay, on the other hand, was a born athlete. It was one of the things he’d always admired about her. She was tough enough to push through the pain of running. Disciplined enough to train.
He wasn’t surprised when she sailed several feet onto the ice. She’d dressed in waterproof pants and a sporty white jacket. Her striped pastel scarf, hat, and mittens all matched. Her hair peeked out symmetrically from the bottom of the cap.
He eased onto the ice, arms outstretched, ankles straight. He slid about ten inches.
She waited, but he didn’t make a move.
“Is that a skating posture I’m unaware of?” she asked kindly. “The scarecrow, perhaps?”
“I probably should have mentioned at the beginning that I’m not good at this. I can stand here but I’ve never been able to figure out how to make myself move forward without falling.”
“Understandable. But this pretend date is not going to be very enjoyable for you if you remain in that position the entire time.” She smiled.
“It strikes me that maybe I should take... Molly out to do things that she enjoysandthat I’m good at.” Kids jostled past him to exit the ice.
“Not necessarily. If Molly’s worth her salt, she’s going to be willing to try things that you enjoy but she’s not good at. So you should be willing to do the same for her. We’ll make our lives small if we never attempt anything in support of the people we care about.”
“I agree in theory.”Crap, this ice is so slippery.
“How about you keep one hand on the handrail? That’s what I did when I was starting out.”
He edged to the side, took hold of the handrail, and moved his feet like he was walking. No gliding here. Just walking on ice wearing skates.
She skated beside him at his snail’s pace. “Try pushing one skate to the side and skimming forward on the other.”
To please her, he tried, lost his footing, and yanked on the arm gripping the rail. A few more minutes dragged past. He didn’t like to call attention to himself, but his bad skating was doing just that. “This can’t be fun for you,” he said. Thank God she hadn’t spent her money on this outing. He’d convinced her that he would pay—seeing as how she was here as his consultant. “Don’t let me hold you back. Please skate around as fast as you want.”
She seemed to understand. “’Kay. I’ll skate for fifteen minutes or so and then check back to see if you want to try it with me.”
“Thanks.”
She soared off, lapping him again and again. His feet kept shooting out from under him, yanking his arm. The handrail was the only thing saving him from a butt fracture.Yank. Nonetheless, he kept trying—yank—because he’d agreed with what she’d said. His life would become small if he never attempted anything in support of the people he cared about.
He cared about her. Also, skating did come with one perk. Watching Shay.
She radiated happiness. Her body was lithe and strong. The wind whipped through the tips of her hair. At one point, he spotted her turning circles in the middle of the rink, arms outstretched.
