We park in a covered garage amidst other salt and sand-coated cars. Instead of going to his condo, we go to the amenities level of the building, which includes a pool, weight room, fitness center, workspace for people who are remotely employed, and a party room. Lane directs me to the ladies’ locker room while he goes to his in the mens’ lockre room, where he keeps his trunks. I slip into my swimsuit, trying and failing to talk myself out of this.
I freeze in the locker room, then, as if an invisible fan club is rooting me on—I can practically hear my girlfriends cheering—fine, I’ll be adventurous this once. Then Bree can let me retreat into my happy place.
Nonetheless, I’m painfully aware of every step I take between the door and the jacuzzi where Lane waits, already in the bubbly water.
When I drop my towel, his gaze drifts down to the constellation of small stars tattooed along my hip, but he doesn’t comment.
The hot water is perfect, and I sink in with a grateful sigh.Lane, wearing nothing but dark gray swim trunks on a body forged from hammered stone, shifts slightly, and I spot dark ink on his ribs—what looks like a compass rose.
As he relaxes in the water, a soothing sound comes from his chest. “This is far better than cold therapy.”
“Like ice baths?” I ask, shivering slightly even though the water is warm.
“Yeah, my trainers have me doing cold plunges, sauna sessions—alternating between hot and cold for recovery. I prefer this one—figured you might too after arguably the strangest night ever. My body probably appreciates their program, though.”
Hot. Yes.
Body. Mmmhmm.
Very hot.
I resist the urge to fan my face at the sight of his toned and athletic physique.
Thankfully, his eyes dip closed as if finally relaxing. When they open again, they land directly on me.
The playful flirtation in his gaze, like he read my mind, makes me feel like I’m boiling in a stockpot.
Doing my best to sound normal and not like I’m choking on a chicken bone, I say, “My family is Danish. Saunas are practically a way of life in Denmark. My grandmother used to say the heat could cure anything from a broken heart to a stubborn cold.”
The memory makes me pause, and suddenly I’m thinking about different kinds of healing.
Letting out a breath, I find myself telling him about my injury. “My college roommate was dating a hockey player. Their relationship was fire and ice, you know?”
He grumbles. “Unfortunately, I’m familiar with that particular combination.”
“One night, they had a massive fight about him missing her birthday dinner because he had practice. She was crying. He was being stubborn.”
“In your dorm room?”
“It was as awkward as you can imagine. I thought I could talk sense into both of them. That was a big fat failure. I was going to leave for the library so I could study, but she stormed out, and he just ... didn’t go after her. Classic him, honestly.”
Without realizing it, Lane and I have drifted closer together in the jacuzzi tub. The mountains that form his toned shoulders bump up over the bubbles. In much the same way I work bread dough, I suddenly want to knead the knots out of them, his neck, and back.
Shaking my head to resurface from my thoughts, I continue the story. “I finally found her sitting on the fire escape outside our dorm at nearly midnight in December. I climbed out to sit with her, and when I finally convinced her to come inside, I slipped and ...” My ankle twinges reflexively.
Lane winces.
“What I thought was just another sprain—wouldn’t have been my first—turned out to be a nasty break requiring surgical hardware to fix.”
“Screws and a plate?”
I nod. “And that off-ice injury was the end. My crossovers, turns, and transitions were never the same after that.” The truth of what I lost still stings. “Had to stop skating.”
“So you skated, but then you started baking instead?”
I laugh. “Are you asking if that was my backup dream? Actually, the runner-up was becoming an astronaut.”
His eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise, then his gaze drops to my tattoo hidden under the water. “The stars?”
