“John—” She bit off the next word and drew a breath. “He hired his nephew to train with me.”
“To take your job when you get the promotion.” He pulled his toque back over his head.
Jenna chewed on her lower lip. “Yeah. That’s the hope. But I’ve been here before . . .” She looked down at her hands.
“In Windsor?” Country remembered their conversation. About Carson Hart, the dick.
She nodded. “There aren’t many women in the field. It’s not cut and dry.”
Country pushed through the door and headed toward the chicken coop. “You want to prove your worth.”
“Exactly. ‘Be so good they can’t ignore you’ and all that.”
Country thought about the first time she’d said something similar. The way her eyes had flashed as she opened up her shirt to show the lacy edges of her bra.
He shoved his hands farther into his pockets, then took the slips of colour she was offering and tried to piece together the whole picture. He should never have criticized her for giving up on sitting at the desk even if he knew she’d kill as a commentator. That assumption was as ridiculous as Jenna showing up here and telling him to adjust the cattle feed schedule. The realization that he knew nothing about her life sank into him like a stone in the soft muck of a streambed.
“You shouldn’t have to prove your worth to guys like John,” he muttered as they strolled past the pond, the snow slithering across the glass tableau through the trapped prairie grass.
She exhaled. “And yet, here we are.”
Country paused, his ribs shrinking against his lungs. Here we are. Jenna stopped next to him, staring out over the frozen water. He didn’t clean this ice anymore, hadn’t since he’d left for Ontario. That task had been handed down to his brother Cody who brought his kindergartner and three year old daughter out to skate on the weekends.
He sniffed. "Think you could still take me one-on-one?"
"Please, I could skate circles around you,” she answered without hesitation.
He forced a chuckle, hoping it would ease the tightness in his chest. Their most memorable night cutting up this ice together poured into his head like he’d turned on a faucet, and the crispness of the memory knocked the breath out of him.
“I can barely see anything!”
Gentry threw up his hands. “I can’t pull the car any closer!”
Jenna tossed her head back and laughed. “I’m messing with you! Get out here and play!” Her shadow danced in the light of the headlights as Country closed the door to his truck with his skates slung over his shoulder.
The chill seeped through his socks as he shoved his feet into the brittle skates, the laces burning against chafed skin as he cinched them up.
“Hurry up! I’m freezing!” Jenna rested her gloves on her stick, her hip popped as she waited impatiently.
“Next time you go get the lights.”
Jenna grinned. “I’m getting under your skin. My plan is working perfectly.”
“I thought you said you could beat me straight up. Now you’re relying on psychological warfare?” He pushed up from the stump and pulled on his gloves.
“I’m not giving away all my tactics.” She dropped the puck from her glove and waited for Gentry to pick up his stick. “First one to five.”
He nodded and met her at the centre of the pond. “No chicken shit.”
Jenna rolled her eyes. “You take first possession.”
He knew better than to argue with her. He corralled the puck and skated back a few feet, then rocketed to the left. Jenna kept with him, controlling her gap and staying square to the puck.
“Nice check,” he breathed.
Jenna didn’t answer, wholly focused. Heat rose through his middle at the knowledge that every cell in her body was locked onto him. He almost didn’t want to shoot and break the dance, but he did.
The puck ricocheted off the right post, and Jenna sprinted, catching it before it disappeared in the grass. She wasted no time streaking toward the other side of the pond, and Country had to hustle to catch up. She didn’t have his strength, but she had speed. He barely got his stick in the mix and tipped the angle before she got the puck off.
