“WhatI’mmade of is better meant for the corral than an ice rink,” Trenton said. “I have a feeling Andie is going to skate circles around me.”
His feeling was most likely correct. While Emmitt and his brothers took a brief shot at hockey in their youth, Andie had spent two full years training on the ice with thoughts of skating in the Olympics. She let that idea go soon enough, but she was definitely more skilled than most on the rink.
Emmitt had helped Maverick and Trenton prep the ice earlier that week, which meant he’d had the chance to polish up his meager skills.
Sloane reached for his other hand, and soon he held both her gloved hands in his. Emmitt stepped backward until they reached the ice. Once there, he pushed his weight in backward strides with each foot, one after the next as Sloane took her first few forward strides. And there was that heavenly rose scent.Mmm.
He grinned at their wobbly, awkward beginning and glanced up to shoot Sloane a wink. “Old pros,” he said.
Sloane smiled too. “Right. I cannot say exactly how long it has been since I’ve ice skated, but I know it has been years.”
Andie breezed seamlessly by them, tucked her arms gracefully across her chest, and moved into one swift spin.
“Show off,” Emmitt hollered.
“Woo hoo!” Trenton said from his place on the sidelines. “That’s my woman right there.”
“That was impressive,” Sloane said, meeting Emmitt’s gaze once more. “Can you do that too?”
He shook his head. “Not at all.”
“Hmm.” Her expression turned thoughtful as she did a cute lip twisting thing. Just guessing at what was in her head caused an amused grin to pull at the corners of Emmitt’s mouth.
“If I spin and fall on my bottom,” she started, “will you shout out the way Trenton did, declaring that I belong to you?”
A spot of warmth bloomed low in his belly. Declaring that she belonged to him? He only wished she did. The truth was, with each hour he spent with her, Emmitt fell harder for the mysterious French woman—the very one who’d squashed his first group of winter tours by enforcing the new mandates.
“You did not answer my question,” Sloane prompted, giving his hands a squeeze. They’d moved into longer, smoother strokes on the ice now.
“If you fell on your butt on the ice,” he said, easing into a good rhythm, “I’d most definitely say,that’s Maverick’s woman right there!”
Sloane released his hand to give his arm a playful slap. “You are horrible. Speaking of Maverick, where is he tonight?” He liked that she still pronounced his name with that reek sound at the end.
Emmitt glance behind him, ensuring the coast was clear as they followed the curve of the rink. “He prides himself on being casually late to things,” he replied.
She tipped her head back. “Ah. So Maverick is Mr. Casually Late, and Richard is Mr. Don’t Bother Going At All.”
The mere sound of Richard’s name caused his nerves to tense. The more time they spent with his family, the more obvious his absence would be.
“You’ve got it,” he said casually, glancing behind him once more. “Here,” he said, anxious for a distraction. “Should we try a spin?”
Sloane held his gaze as she contemplated. Just as he assumed she’d tell him the idea was no good, her blue eyes went wide. “Yes. Let’s do it.”
Emmitt nodded. “Yes?”
“Yes. Big yes.”
He chuckled under his breath. “Okay, okay. We can do this.”
“We cantotallydo this,” she agreed.
Once they slowed their pace, Emmitt straightened his arms and leaned back the slightest bit. Sloane did the same, her hands locked in his. Emmitt pushed his weight toward one side, eyes fixed on hers.
Sloane mirrored the motion, and soon they were turning in place.
“Hey,” Sloane cheered. “We are spinning!”
“We sure are,” Emmitt agreed, a splash of warmth filling his chest. Time with Sloane was addicting, and he wanted a whole lot more of it. It may seem like they were moving quickly, and perhaps they were. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t right. From the moment Sloane arrived, they’d been on borrowed time—twenty-four hours, to be exact. Emmitt planned to make every moment count.
