Nate looks confused for a moment, his brows furrowing. “Oh, she’s probably holed up in her studio painting something. She gets like that when inspiration strikes. Won’t come up for air for days sometimes. It used to drive me crazy, but her fiancée finds it adorable.”
So maybe straight, but definitely not with Addy.
As we pull up to the lake, I’m surprised by how many cars are parked along the shoreline. Clearly, this is the place to be on a winter evening in Maplewood. Massive spotlights around the perimeter cast an ethereal glow across the frozen surface, their beams catching occasional snow flurries. The moon hangs high above us, but its gentle luminescence is no match for the artificial brightness below.
My stomach does an uncomfortable flip as I eye the ice. “Are you sure this is safe? I mean, what if the ice breaks? Or what if I fall and crack my head open? I’ve never even been roller skating, let alone tried to balance on actual blades.”
“Hey.” Nate’s voice is gentle as he places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “The ice is plenty thick this time of year, and I won’t let you fall. We’ll take it slow, and I’ll be beside you the whole time.”
At the lake, Nate leads me to a small rental shack where a teenager hands me a pair of well-worn skates while Nate pulls out his own professional-looking pair.
“Show off,” I mutter, fumbling with the laces.
“Here, let me help.” Nate kneels in front of me, his warm fingers brushing against my ankles as he tightens the laces. The innocent touch sends shivers up my spine.
When he stands and offers his hand to help me onto the ice, I take it, trying to ignore how perfectly our palms fit together. “Remember your promise about not letting me fall?”
His blue eyes sparkle with amusement. “I got you, Cas. Trust me.”
And despite my better judgment, I do. Especially since Nate has just given me a nickname and all.
Oh, stop my beating silly heart.
The moment my blades touch the ice, my legs start shaking like a newborn fawn. I grip Nate’s hand tighter, probably cutting off his circulation, but he doesn’t complain. Instead, he positions himself slightly in front of me, his other hand resting on my waist to steady me.
“Relax,” he says softly. “You’re too tense. Bend your knees a little.”
“If I bend my knees, I’ll fall on my ass,” I protest, but I do as he says anyway. To my surprise, it does help with my balance.
“Good. Now, watch my feet. It’s like walking, but you push off to the side instead of straight back.”
I try to mimic his movements, but my feet seem to have different ideas. They slide in opposite directions, and I yelp, pitching forward into Nate’s chest. His arms wrap around me instantly, solid and secure, and I’m suddenly aware of how close we are. His cologne—or maybe it’s just him—fills my senses, making my head spin.
“You okay?” he asks, his breath warm against my ear.
“Yeah,” I squeak, trying to regain my composure. “Just discovering I have a toxic relationship with gravity.”
His chuckle rumbles through his chest, and I feel it where we’re pressed together. “Let’s try again. This time, keep your weight centered.”
Slowly, with Nate’s patient guidance, I start to get the hang of it. We slowly make our way around the lake edge while other skaters zip past us with enviable grace. Some give us encouraging smiles, probably remembering their own first times on the ice.
“Look at you,” Nate says proudly when I manage a few glides without death-gripping his hand. “You’re a natural.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” I laugh, then immediately regret speaking because I lose my concentration and start wobbling again. Nate’s hand is there instantly, steadying me.
“Want to try going a little faster?”
“Absolutely not. I’m perfectly happy at a geriatric pace, thank you very much.”
He grins, and it transforms his whole face. I’ve never seen him look so relaxed, so at ease. Out here on the ice, surrounded by the quiet woods and the star-filled sky, it’s like he’s in his element. The sight makes my heart do something weird.
“Come on,” he coaxes, skating backward now so he can face me. Show off. “Just a little faster. I won’t let go.”
And despite my protests, I find myself picking up speed, Nate’s sure grip giving me the confidence to push harder against the ice. The cold wind stings my cheeks, my borrowed coat billows behind me, and for a moment, I feel like I’m flying.
Then, my skate catches a rough patch of ice, and the world tilts sideways.
CHAPTER 9
