“Hello,” a woman greets cheerfully. “I feel like I need to file a formal complaint.”
“For what?” I glance sideways. She’s probably about my age, bundled in a puffer coat, golden hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, cheeks pink from the cold.
“They didn’t warn us the instructors would be this hot.” She tips her chin toward the rink. “I brought my kid here to learn hockey, not to reevaluate my life choices when it comes to men. They could melt my ice anytime.”
I laugh despite myself. “It does seem a little unfair to be stealing glances at the men when we’re supposed to be here for our kids.”
“Right?” she beams. “I’m Brenna. My son is Brady, the blond one who just tripped over his own skates.”
I follow her gaze and spot the kid in question, already scrambling back to his feet. “Stella. The boy, Aiden, with the dark hair next to Coach Eli is mine.”
“Yes. I’ve heard all about Aiden.”
My stomach dips. “You have?”
She nods. “My son came home after the last session talking about him nonstop. Said Aiden knows all the stats, knows the players’ numbers, and apparently has a birthday party coming up.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “He’s a little enthusiastic about hockey right now.”
“That’s one word for it. And I can totally sympathize. It’s like hockey fever has hit Boulder.” She chuckles, elbowing my arm. “Brady says that Aiden has been telling everyone that Coach Eli might be there.”
I blink. “At his party?”
She shrugs. “Kids exaggerate, obviously. But he seems really excited.”
Maybe so, but if he’s bragging about it, then it means he’s also hopeful and expecting. I watch Aiden glide fast past the boards, his face lit up, cheeks flushed, joy written into every movement. He seems more confident these days, too. Even so, he can’t be spreading more rumors about his party like that.
“Our plans aren’t solidified yet. I mean, we still have to get through Halloween next week, then we can deal with his birthday and Christmas,” I explain.
“I totally understand. Well, if you need any help putting a party together, I love that sort of thing.” She scoots back to her seat but leaves a heavy weight bearing down on my shoulders.
My mind races about Aiden and this party. I hate to disappoint him, but he has to understand that I can’t always give him what he wants.
He skates over to the boards a few minutes later, breathless with cheeks glowing. “Mom! Can I take my jacket off? I’m sweating,” he calls.
Come to think of it, the air in here is warmer than usual. I see several other kids stripping off layers, too. I stomp down the bleachers with his bottle, and I reach for him, peeling the coat away and draping it over my arm. “Here. Drink your water.”
He does, gulping it down as if he hasn’t had any in days. “Did you see me skate sprints? Coach taught us how, timing us and everything.”
“I’m glad you’re having fun with it.” Pride blooms in his grin.
“Hey, superstar.” Eli’s voice slides into the conversation easily. My spine reacts before my brain does. He rests a gloved hand casually on the boards. The sight of it sends a jolt of electricity down my spine. One specific memory, reserved only for those very lonely nights when I need a toy to help calm me down… of Eli and I in the supply closet at the Tigers’ locker roombefore a game where he finally showed me exactly what a hockey glove can do to a woman.
I fan my blushing cheeks thinking about it, but play it off in front of Eli. “Aiden’s right. It is warm in here tonight.”
“I just bought the building, and we’re still trying to figure out how everything works. I think between Sean and me, we got the thermostat all screwed up,” Eli explains.
I cock my head. “You bought the rink?”
“Yeah, how about that? Now my little foundation has a home. Hey Aiden, we’re going to join Coach Sean’s group for a fun game. Go on over. I’ll be right there.”
“Yes, Coach Lewis.” He rushes off as quickly as his legs will carry him.
“How are you tonight?” Eli squares off with me, placing both his hands on either side of mine on the top of the board; goosebumps multiply on my skin, doing nothing to cool me off.
“Good.” The dots suddenly connect for me between Aiden’s desire to have a hockey party and a potential place to hold it.
“Can your mom watch Aiden tonight when this is over, so I can take you for that cup of coffee at last?” A sly corner of his mouth turns up.
