"Me? I lived on skates as a kid." I tug him toward the rental booth. "You're the one who should be worried."
Ten minutes later, I'm trying not to laugh as Caleb death-grips the railing, his legs wobbling like a newborn deer. "Pretty sure this ice is tilted," he mutters, inching forward. "Definitely not regulation."
"Wait here." I glide backward, scanning the rink. "Pretty sure I saw one of those penguin push-bars the toddlers use. You know, the ones with the happy faces that stop you from face-planting?"
"Absolutely not." Caleb's death grip on the rail tightens. "I havesomedignity left."
"Do you though?" But I hold out my hands instead. "Come on, trust me. I won't let you fall."
He takes them, and I try not to laugh at the way his legs shake. "If I die out here, tell my Xbox I loved it."
"Don't be dramatic." I start skating backward, pulling him along at grandma speed. "Just keep your knees soft and let me do the work."
"That's what she—"
"If you finish that sentence, I'm letting go."
His laugh comes out shaky, but his grip on my hands eases. "Hey, I think I'm getting—nope, definitely not getting it."
But he is. Slowly, with more determination than grace, he finds a rhythm. His shoulders relax, his stance steadies, and we're moving.
"Look at you," I tease. "Almost resembling a functional human on ice."
"All thanks to my tiny teacher—whoah!"
His skate catches a rough patch, and we go down in a tangle of limbs and curses. I land on his chest with enough force to knock the air out of us both, but his arms wrap around me protectively.
"Planning another wrist injury?" I laugh, trying to ignore how good he feels beneath me.
His eyes darken as he looks up at me. "Nah, just wanted you closer. Pretty cozy down here, actually."
Snow falls gently around us and suddenly I can't remember why I ever tried to keep my distance. I find myself staring at his mouth, watching his tongue sweep across his bottom lip.
Something inside me snaps. It could be the way snowflakes catch in his lashes, or how his heart beats beneath my palms. Or perhaps I'm done pretending I don't want to climb him like a Christmas tree.
He inhales sharply against my mouth, and then we're all heat and motion. Hands roaming, claiming. When his teeth catch my bottom lip, my whole body jolts. One hand trails down my spine, grabbing my ass and hauling me closer until I'm pressed against every hard inch of him.
"Fuck," he mutters against my lips, squeezing my ass.
I forget we're in public. Forget about the cold, or the ice, or anything that isn't Caleb's mouth on mine.
"HEY!" Danny's scandalized voice pierces our bubble. "There are CHILDREN present! This is a FAMILY event!"
We break apart laughing, and Caleb helps me up but keeps me close, his hands settling on my hips.
"You good?" He asks, thumbs drawing circles.
"Never better."
"So," he says as we make our way off the ice, "I made reservations at La Rosa Italiana. Thought we could do the whole fancy dinner thing."
I bite my lip, watching him try to act casual even though I can see the nerves creeping back in. "Actually . . ."
His face falls. "Too much?"
"No!" My fingers close around his before he can retreat. "This has been perfect. Exactly us. And I was thinking . . ." I take a breath. "Instead of fancy Italian, we could order Chinese and watch Christmas movies at my place? By the fire?"
The tension drains from his shoulders. "Yeah?"
