Robbie’s ears turned pink and he said sheepishly, “Little shit volunteered on my behalf. Don’t tell the cops, his teeth are costing me a fortune, I don’t need to be bailing him out of jail for pretending to be my agent too.”
This guy’s kid signed him up for a dancing competition and he just rolled with it? Finn’s lips twitched. “My dad told me about his and Imogen’s experiment with hair dye.” RIP Gail’s nice new bath towels.
“Pink suited your stepsister, though.”
“Yeah, I thought so too.” Finn gestured Robbie toward the couch at the side of the room, and they sat. “So, what—Sawyer thought you’d say no if he suggested you apply, or…?”
Robbie huffed. “Honestly, no idea. Sometimes I think he just has scheming in his blood. God knows where he got that from; his mom was a saint and his dad’s an idiot. Some way of keeping control, maybe. I should nip it in the bud, but so far it’s just been kind of hilarious.”
If Finn didn’t know Sawyer, he might question the parenting, but Sawyer was a happy, well-adjusted kid considering his father couldn’t seem to remember to come home to feed him. Finn got the impression that was all down to Uncle Robbie and his willingness to step up. “Well, whatever he’s up to, we’re happy to have you on board. Although I think we might be at a tactical disadvantage.”
Even as he said the words, he found his gaze drifting up and down Robbie’s body. Finn followed hockey enough to know he’d been a goalie, which was a first for Finn, partner-wise. Robbie was a shade taller than he was, with broad shoulders but a slim build, at least from chest to hips. He had the typical skater thighs, stretching at the seams of his athletic pants. And Robbie had been a goalie, so Finn had to assume that he had a good start when it came to balance and flexibility. Hm. “What’s your squat?”
Robbie cocked his head like a bewildered bird. “My… squat…?”
“Yeah, you must know how much you can lift in a squat.”
“Well, yeah, like four hundred, but what does that have to do with anything?”
Right, Robbie was a hockey player, not a dancer. His squat was for—what the hell did goaltenders need to squat that much for? Getting out from under a pile of opposing players?
“So, obviously men don’t usually skate in pairs, mostly because size difference is helpful for dancing, especially with lifts. There’s no way either of us could lift the other with arms and shoulders. At least not gracefully.”
Robbie nodded. “So no pulling aDirty Dancing?”
Finn paused again as he processed that Robbie the NHL goalie was familiar enough withDirty Dancingthat that was his point of reference for over-the-head lifts. “Right. Yeah, neither of us make a good Baby. But with a four-hundred-pound squat, there’s a decent chance you could hold me on your thighs during a lift.”
“Oh. Wait—are you suggesting that I squat and you stand on my thighs with knives on your feet?” Robbie looked taken aback.
It was a common move in ice dancing, but Robbie sounded like he’d never seen it pulled off. “Yes? We do this all the time.”
“Huh.”
“Robbie… have you ever even seen ice dancing?”
“Yeah. Sure. I mean, probably, at some point. I must have.”
For some reason, Finn didn’t facepalm. Normally finding out that your partner in a competition didn’t know anything about the contest in question would be bad news. In the face of this undertaking that Robbie was embarking on for the sake of his kid, who wasn’t really his kid, this complete obliviousness was ridiculously charming.
“Well. Maybe you can watch a few videos this weekend.” He shook his head. “And we wouldn’t try it on the ice first, obviously. We’d start in the gym, either barefoot or in sneakers. The dance part comes first. Ice later.” He paused and reconsidered. “Actually it might be better if I show you what you need to do first.”
Robbie blinked. “Show me?”
“Yeah.” Finn gave him another once-over, trying to guess his weight. Heavier than Finn, for sure, but not so heavy Finn couldn’t support him. “You’re probably too big for me to pull it off on the ice, but on the mats, it should be no problem.” At least not for Finn. And Robbie was playing pro hockey just a few months ago. He should be fine. “You must have good core strength. You should be fine.”
“You want me to stand on your thighs.”
Finn narrowed his eyes. “Are you just going to keep repeating what I say?” Maybe Robbie was more weirded out by the whole skating with a guy thing than he let on. Or maybe he’d taken one too many pucks to the helmet. “Look, if you’re backingout, just let me know so we can run down someone else to fill your spot last-minute. We’re supposed to start filming today.”
But Robbie was shaking his head, apologetic. “No, no, I’m sorry. I’m just extremely unprepared and kind of flailing. ‘Figure skater asks me to stand on his thighs’ was not on my bingo card for this adventure.”
Finn could’ve corrected him—ice dancing and figure skating were separate disciplines—but he could let it pass this time. “Fair enough. Surprised I can handle it?”
“I mean, not to put too fine a point on it, but until two days ago, I was expecting you to be a woman.”
Thinking about that made Finn laugh, because Stef loved to fuck with first-timers, especially ones who didn’t know shit about ice dancing. “You’re lucky you got me instead. Stef would be trying to convince you to let her backflip onto your face.”
“God.” Was Finn imagining it, or had Robbie’s cheeks just flushed? “Can you do that?”
