“No, it’s not. Your ex-boyfriend may’ve been a piece of shit who didn’t value you, but I’m not about to break your trust before I’ve even fully earned it.” His voice gets a little louder now, his tone a little crisper. “I swear on my Stanley Cup wins that nothing happened, Maya. I wouldn’t fuck up what we have for a quick lay. I hope you know I’m not that guy.”
Puffing out a breath, I let his words penetrate. He’snotthat guy. Ever since Cole waltzed in on me and my book, he’s done nothing that would make me question his honesty. He’s way more open with his feelings and thoughts than I am, anyway.
“Okay,” I reply, my tone soft. “I believe you.”
“Thank you.” He lets out a sigh that muffles the phone line between us. “I just landed in Boston. When are you free? I want to see you.”
If they weren’t still as nauseous as I am, thanks to the tequila still slopping around in my stomach, his words would make the butterflies in my stomach cheer. “Thursday?”
“I’ll be in Florida for a game,” he says. “I’ll be back Friday morning, though.”
I tilt my head back and mentally flip through what I have going on this week. “I have dinner with my brother. What about Saturday?”
“Perfect. We can do something in the afternoon, since I know how you like your sleep.”
I bite back a smile. “Oh, how generous of you. I’ll see you then.”
“It’s a date.”
For once, I don’t correct him.
If the sign above the double-door entrance didn’t read Bobcats Community Ice Rink, I’d assume this was some fancy tech company’s office. The building is compact but striking, its exterior all clean lines and gleaming silver panels, with a wall of oversized windows. It looks more like it belongs in a design magazine than in a suburban sports complex.
The city may be blanketed in a layer of snow, but the sun is out in full force, so I shield my eyes as I climb out of the car. “We’re ice-skating?”
Cole’s face splits into a boyish grin. “Yup. At our practice arena.”
“I’ve never ice-skated,” I admit.
This stops the pro skater in his tracks. Slowly, he turns, and his lips part. “Never?”
I tuck my arms around myself to fight against the wind tugging at my clothes. “Uh… no?”
In a bid to hand me off to people who weren’t her, my mom signed me up for tons of classes when I was a kid. Ballet, gymnastics, swimming, art. Somehow ice-skating never made the cut.
“So it’s your first time?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes tight. It’s cold and I’d like to get inside. “Yes, and phrasing the question in different ways isn’t going to change my answer.”
Cole either doesn’t hear me or doesn’t care. “I get to be your first.”
“Oh my God,” I groan at his insinuation. “You’re taking me skating, not taking my virginity. Please chill out.”
Just like that, he’s snapped out of what I can only imagine is a skating fantasy land. Grabbing my mitten-covered hand, he practically drags me through the parking lot.
“Can anyone skate at your practice arena?” I ask.
“It’s open to the public,” Cole explains. “Anyone can watch our practices, too.”
“What?” I crow. My voice is far too loud now that we’ve stepped inside, so I step closer, keeping my tone lowered, and ask, “What if your competition comes to watch? Wouldn’t that give them an edge on you if they could study your plays and stuff?”
A scene fromBring It On, where another cheer squad films their practice and then steals their dance routine during the competition, pops into my head.
“This isn’t one of your books, baby.” Cole chuckles. “No one has the time for covert operations like that. Plus, recording isn’t allowed at practices.”
“Oh.”
“Mm-hmm.” He gives me a half smile. “Now let’s go get you fitted for skates.”
