“Yeah. A former ice dancer. Named Finn. Who works on….”
Ah. “So this is going to be super awkward for you if I start ice dancing all sexy with Imogen’s brother on TV?”
“Oh my God.” Sawyer put his hands over his face. “Please never say ‘ice dancing all sexy’ ever again.”
“Sawyer, seriously. Old people have sex too—”
“Ick! I hate you, I hate youso much—”
“Kid. It’s going to be fine. I promise I won’t embarrass you in front of your friend’s brother, or whatever. Okay?”
Sawyer let out a breath so loud his lips flapped against his face. “No, it’s—you’re right, it’s fine. Besides, Finn’s way more embarrassing than you are, so, like, how cringe could it be?”
“More embarrassing than me?” That sounded fake. “Seriously?”
“Ugh.” Sawyer buried his face in his hands. “I guess you’ll see for yourself soon enough.”
Weirdly, Robbie was looking forward to it now.
Chapter Two
I’m Calling HR
Finn hadn’tspent so much time on this side of the camera in a few years. Apart from the few times a season he showed his mug while explaining some choreography for the show, he’d been content to stay in the wings.
But he’d spent a good portion of his adult life in the spotlight and it didn’t faze him. That wasn’t going to change because he was suddenly going to be bisexual on TV. He was a professional ice dancer. He’d been presumed gay until proven otherwise his entire life.
He’d also met a truly staggering number of hockey players. Even without Finn’s current occupation, they shared the same natural habitat. The ones who came on the show were generally affable—a certain machismo was part of playing professional sports, but you had to be willing to make a fool of yourself on camera for this gig, so they didn’t get guys who took themselves too seriously. From an instructive standpoint, the female players were his usual favourites, since they joked around plenty but were better at taking direction.
In any case, he went into his first meeting with his new pairs partner having a certain set of expectations, and then he opened the door to the coaches’ room and threw them all out thewindow. Metaphorically, because the coaches’ room at the arena was in the basement.
A man—presumably Robbie Zeiger—sat sideways in one of the cozy armchairs with his legs hooked over the armrest. His socks were cow patterned—white with black splotches. On the table next to him was an empty bottle of orange juice, which had apparently been poured into the clear plastic cup gripped in Robbie’s left hand. A step taken so that he could dip an old-fashioned plain donutintothejuice.
He lifted the donut to his mouth, closed his eyes, and bit.
“Uh,” Finn said intelligently, and Robbie opened his eyes.
“Hi.” In a move that was somehow both ungainly and smooth, he unhooked his legs and stood in one movement. Then he set down his drink and donut, brushed off his fingers, and held out a hand. “Robbie Zeiger. Nice to meet you.”
Finn blinked and shook. Robbie had long hair, well-kept, in a french braid. He was wearing a Smokey the Bear T-shirt.
He was nothing like Finn expected.
“Finn Graham.”
“So I’ve heard.” He gave a wry smile. “I’m told we have children in common. I’m Sawyer’s uncle.”
“No shit—seriously?” When Sawyer mentioned living with an uncle more than part-time lately since his dad was striving for a gold medal in absentee parenting, Finn hadn’t pictured an NHL player.
He had, however, maybe imagined the mythical uncle to have hipster vibes.
“I love that kid,” Finn said unthinkingly. Sawyer was a riot. “He’s hilarious, even with the attitude.”
Robbie beamed like a proud papa, which was fair enough, considering that Robbie apparently was all but Sawyer’s legal parent.
“Yeah, I think he’s what they call an acquired taste.” Robbie scruffed a hand through the fluff that had escaped his braid at the back of his neck. “But he’s worth acquiring for sure. Wouldn’t be here without him.”
Finn tilted his head, not following.
