My nod is jerky, but I won’t take the words back. “Yes. We’ll take it slow, but…Take me on a date, and we’ll go from there.”
Braxton leans across the console, our hands still awkwardly tangled as he presses his forehead against mine.
“You got it, Rumpel,” he rumbles. “Anything for you.”
CHAPTER 38
Gracie
My mouth falls open as Braxton flails, arms pinwheeling, and his expression a picture of pure panic. His legs are sawing back and forward, the blades of his ice skates scraping against the ice. He tilts forward at a precarious angle, his legs moving faster and faster to try to get him back upright, but he’s not going anywhere.
“I got it,” he grits out. “I’m good. I got it.”
Before I can argue that he does not look like he’s “got it,” a girl who looks about five passes by, staring at him with wide eyes. “Mom,” she turns to the woman at her side, “is he okay?” The question is a whisper, but it’s loud enough to have Braxton’s cheeks flushing.
“I’m sure he’s fine, kiddo. Everyone’s learning, even adults. Maybe his friend will get him a skate helper.” The mom locks eyes with me, her expression amused.
The girl nods. “That’s probably a good idea.” She looks back at Braxton just as he regains his balance, his arms spread wide and knees bent to stop from falling again. “I like the seal one,” she announces. “It’s cuter than the penguin.”
I open my mouth as they skate away, but Braxton cuts me off with a dark glower. “No, I do not want ahelper.”
I mime zipping my lips, and he inhales deeply before attempting to move forward, just as if he were walking on the ground. He only gains an inch before his knee buckles, and he lunges for the side of the ice rink.
I skate closer, voice vibrating with humor as I ask, “Are you okay there?”
Braxton pins a baleful look on me, but he can’t hide the way his mouth twitches, his ears red under his knit cap. “I’m fine,” he says grimly. “There’s something wrong with my skates.”
“Oh, sure.” I bob my head. “A size too small, maybe? Laces too tight? Blades too sharp?”
His brow knits together as he thinks before he declares, “Yes.”
“Which one?”
Braxton’s smile widens before he can stop it. “All of them.”
I laugh, shaking my head, coming closer and stretching my hands out, wriggling my fingers. “Here, I’ll help you.”
He doesn’t look sure, his eyes flicking between me and the railing he’s clutching with a white-knuckled grip and my hands. “You’re small,” he says reasonably.
“And?”
Braxton heaves out a breath. “I’ll be fine on my own,” he says gruffly. “Look, I just need to—” He drags himself along the railing, one hand after the other, his legs shakier than a newborn lamb’s.
I follow at his side, stopping frequently so I don’t get too far ahead, amusement bubbling through my chest at every frustrated noise he makes when his feet slip out from under him.
“Why did you choose to go ice skating?” I ask after a couple of minutes. “If you don’t know how?”
Braxton kept me waiting another week after I told him to take me on the date, but I suppose that turnabout was fair play considering how long I made him wait for an answer.
I’m not sure what I was expecting when he knocked on my door this morning, two coffees from Frothy Cakes in his hands, but driving to the ice rink in Ashland wouldn’t have even made the top ten.
He doesn’t answer as we reach one of the gates leading out of the rink. Two teenage girls giggle to each other as they step out onto the ice, making it seem effortless as they smoothly glide away.
Braxton watches them go, his brow furrowed. “Seriously? They’re, like, ten. How do they know how to do this?”
I roll my lips inward at the petulant tone, not offering to help as he stretches out to grab the other side of the gap, pulling himself awkwardly across.
“I remembered something you said,” he says softly when he reaches the other side, and it takes me a second to realize he’s answering my question.
