We skated for the duration of our solo time, smiling and laughing as I skated circles around him. When he sighed, glancing at his watch, I headed toward him.
“So there is one part of the deal that I never mentioned,” he said, eyes twinkling.
“What… deal?”
“How I got the rink for twenty minutes on a busy night before Christmas.” He grinned, a playful glee coming off him. “I’ll show you. Come on, wife.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
CONNOR
The Zamboni was larger—and more complicated—than I’d expected. Its controls looked like something out of a spaceship, with levers, buttons, and knobs that all seemed equally important.
“Are you sure about this?” Laney asked, her arms crossed as she stood by the rink, her eyes dancing with amusement.
“I’m a CEO,” I said with mock confidence, climbing into the driver’s seat. “How hard can this be?”
She snorted. “Running a company doesn’t exactly qualify you to drive a glorified ice-cleaning tractor.”
“Details,” I replied back. I patted the seat beside me. “Come on, baby. You’re riding shotgun.”
Laney hesitated for a moment before climbing in, her body brushing against mine as she squeezed into the narrow space. “If we die, I’m haunting you,” she said, her voice teasing.
“Noted.” I fiddled with the controls, squinting at the buttons. “Okay, so this lever… should make it go forward.”
The Zamboni lurched to life, and Laney squealed, grabbingmy arm for balance. We rolled onto the ice with all the grace of a baby elephant, the machine swaying slightly as I overcorrected the steering. When I made the deal toclear the icewhen we were done, I figured there would be a guide or something. I never expected to wing it.
“Connor!” Laney shrieked, half laughing, half panicked. “Watch out for the wall!”
“I’ve got this,” I assured her, even as the Zamboni veered dangerously close to the boards. A group of kids scattered on the other side, their giggles echoing across the rink.
Laney doubled over laughing. “You’re terrifying! How are you worse at this than skating?”
“It’s all part of the experience,” I said, grinning despite the sweat forming at the back of my neck. “Hold on—we’re going to pick up speed.”
“Pick up speed? No!” Laney protested, but her laughter betrayed her.
I pushed the throttle, and the Zamboni surged forward, gliding faster across the ice. For a moment, it felt like I actually had control. Laney leaned into me, her laughter bubbling up again as she pointed toward the other side of the rink. “Turn, Connor! Turn!”
“I’m turning!” I yanked the wheel, but the Zamboni responded a beat too late. We started spinning, the machine pivoting in slow, looping circles. Laney’s laughter turned into breathless gasps as she clung to my arm.
“Connor! We’re going to—”
The Zamboni slid toward the rink’s edge, its massive frame gliding straight for the hot chocolate bar. My stomachdropped as I frantically twisted the wheel, trying to correct our course.
The Zamboni jerked to a stop, its nose mere inches from the steaming pots of cocoa and the wide-eyed vendor.
For a moment, everything was silent. Then Laney burst into laughter, her head falling against my shoulder. “Oh my God. We almost destroyed Christmas.”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed too, the sound rolling out of me in waves. “I’d like to point out that we didn’t though. No hot chocolate was harmed in the making of this moment.”
Laney lifted her head, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling. “That was the worst—and most fun—ride of my life.”
I reached over, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I aim to impress.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled, her fingers still gripping my arm. “Impress, huh? You almost killed Santa’s hot chocolate supply.”
“Details,” I said, smirking. But as our laughter faded, I realized I didn’t want the moment to end—the closeness, the sound of her laugh, the way her eyes danced even in the chaos. It felt… right.
