Miles glances back, lips twitching. “Grace would miss you.”
“Just Grace?”
“Mia, too,” he adds flatly.
I stop in my tracks. When he keeps walking, I call to his back, “Excuse me. Rude.”
He turns, and there’s that smile. “I’d miss you, too, Starling.”
My heart does that stupid flipping thing again.
When I don’t move, he backtracks, reaches for my hand, and tugs me forward. “C’mon. We’re almost there.”
The trees open up a few minutes later, revealing a small pond. It’s secluded, surrounded by bare branches and evergreens, the surface a pristine sheet of gray-white ice.
“Oh,” I breathe. “This is pretty.” Which is an understatement. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like I’ve stepped into a snow globe.
“Yeah,” he agrees. But when I glance over, he’s looking at me, not the pond.
I turn toward him. “How’d you find this place?”
“I hike this trail when it’s warm.” He sets the skates down on a fallen log. “Come out here to clear my head.”
“You’re an outdoorsman.” I bet he’d get along with Jordan. They’d probably spend a whole afternoon fishing on a lake.
He huffs a laugh. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Is that why you live outside the city?”
“Part of it. I like the quiet.” He steps carefully onto the ice, testing it. He walks from edge to center, jumping once. “It’s solid,” he calls back. “But wait there.”
I sit on the log, and he drops down beside me, pulling my snow boot into his lap without a word.
“I can do that?—”
“I know.” He doesn’t look up, just starts unlacing. “Let me. There’s a specific technique to it.”
I raise a brow, but nod. Once my boots are off, he works my feet into the skates, lacing them with careful precision.
“Too tight? Too loose?”
“I think they’re good.” I stand and wobble immediately.
“You haven’t even hit the ice yet.” His hands come to my waist, and I try my best to suppress a full-body shiver. Though I could blame it on the cold.
“Balancing on a thin piece of metal isn’t a skill normal people have.”
“You’ll get used to it.” He helps me sit down again while he laces up his own skates. When he’s done, he guides me carefully to the edge of the pond. “Okay. Step on. I’ve got you.”
I do, and my feet try to slide in opposite directions. I guess I haven’t improved since the episode we filmed onYou’re The One,when the guys tried to teach us to skate, then we attempted to play hockey. Neither went particularly well.
Miles’s grip on my waist tightens, keeping me upright. He’ll be a better teacher than Ilya.
“Easy,” he murmurs. “Stand still for a second. Find your balance.”
Once I’m steady—or as steady as I’m going to get—he takes both of my hands in his.
“It’s kind of like walking.” He skates backward, pulling me along with him. “Push off with one foot, glide, then push off with the other. Don’t pick your feet up too high. Keep the movements small.”
