“Careful with your Zamboni. Don’t run over any pedestrians.”
“I won’t unless I lose my job. I mean I will try my best not to run over anyone.” His laugh held a strangely adorable tone to it.
He was worried I would tell his boss about his antics. I spun around, hating the awkward moment. “Don’t worry. Today will be our little secret.”
There was the larger-than-life smile again. He took a step forward. Then another.
Then he fell flat on his face.
My reaction was involuntary, without thinking. I rushed to his side, crouching down and trying to help him up. “Just lean on me. Okay? I’ll get you to safety.” I tried to pull him up, but he was a dead solid two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle for his six-and-a-half-foot height.
He tried to help me, but as soon as he put his foot on the ice, his body was pitched backward.
Which meant mine was as well.
I tugged him forward, but being on skates, I yanked us across the ice by several feet.
His weight pulled me backwards once again. This time with the momentum from the centrifugal force, the two of us went flying into the air about as ungracefully as a newborn fawn. The brutal thud as his back was driven into the ice knocked the wind out of him. The sharp, heavy gasp erupting from his chest was followed by another when I was slammed directly on top of him.
Together, we skidded across the ice toward the center of the rink. When we finally came to a stop, we were both gasping.
The sudden silence was one of those deafening moments.
One leg was bent, my knee pressing against his chest. With every movement, my hips shifted back and forth, which had me grinding into him. And he appeared very excited to have me in his arms. We didn’t breathe, didn’t say a word, our lips mere inches apart. The only real movement was the way his cock throbbed against my stomach.
But even that had my body betraying me with a deep, penetrating throb between my legs.
The few lingering seconds turned into something else until both the uncomfortableness of the position and the frigid chill of the ice broke through the ridiculous fog that had formed around the two of us.
Usually, I was much more graceful than the awkward way I crawled off his massive body. With another instinctual move, I offered my hand to help him get up. The way a mischievous grin floated across his face was far too beguiling.
It was a word my mother would use, but she was always prim and proper in both words and actions. If she’d ever had a period in her life where she’d let loose and sowed her wild oats, every scrap of evidence had been destroyed. Same for my father,although I knew beneath his sophisticated façade was a reckless man. But I digressed.
Zamboni man was milking an opportunity he didn’t have. I wasn’t interested in getting to know anyone or the complications of dating because that would lead to questions asked that I did not want to answer.
Sadly, my body continued to ignore all aspects of common sense as soon as he grasped my fingers. His palm was warm, not sweaty. The perfect level of heat to add to the already tingling flush washing over every inch of my body.
Given he wasn’t particularly helpful in steadying the weight of his body while I helped him up, the rough jerk, while maybe accidental, pulled me directly into his arms again. This time, he pressed his hand against the back of my head to keep himself steady.
Or perhaps both of us since we teetered and shifted on the ice.
That’s the moment I realized something profound.
“You can’t skate. Can you?”
He appeared sheepish, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. “Never learned how. Don’t tell anyone.” His laugh was nervous.
“Wait. Hold on here. You’re a Zamboni driver and you can’t skate?”
His shrug and the way he batted his long eyelashes was adorable.
Although if he thought I would feel so sorry for him I’d agree to a date, he was freaking nuts.
“It never dawned on me that I’d need to. Then I noticed the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life on the ice and I realized what a fool I’ve been. I mean, who wouldn’t want to take such a delicious creature into his arms, skating under the stars.” For emphasis, he lifted both arms toward the ugly shadowed rafters, even using an expression reserved for someone who actually did have feelings for another.
I remained as quiet as a church mouse. “Are you finished yet?”
“Did it work? Will you have a drink with me?”
