The man could dance. At least on the ice. He twirled her, pulling her tight against him, then pushing her out, the two of them in sync like nothing she’d ever felt before. She was giddy, laughing, and suddenly they had an audience as people stopped to watch.
It wasn’t like they were Olympic-level ice dancers or anything. They weren’t that good. It was likely that hockey fans recognized Trick. She didn’t care. She was having more fun than she could ever remember either dancing or skating.
It had to be the man, because Trick wasn’t paying any attention to the gathering crowd. He was only looking at her, and it wasn’t in a sexual way. It was a deeper connection, the kind of way a man looked at a woman when he . . .
She stumbled, and he caught her. She covered by laughing and falling against him.
“Okay, so maybe the Olympics won’t be calling on us to join their ice-dancing team,” she said, lifting her gaze to his.
Whatever spell had wound around them had broken. Their audience clapped, and it was as if Trick had noticed them for the first time. He looked around, smiled and nodded, then wrapped an arm around her and they resumed normal skating.
“Yeah, I don’t think I’m cut out for dancing on the ice. My style is a little more aggressive, and I’m a lot more comfortable with a stick in my hand and a puck to chase after. But you’re a great dancer on or off the ice.”
She shifted, skating in front of him. “And how would you know that since you haven’t seen me dance yet?”
“Call it intuition. And I have seen the way you move your body.” He waggled his brows.
She rolled her eyes. “Not at all the same thing.”
“Isn’t it?” He gave her a very knowing look.
“Trust me. Sex and dancing aren’t at all the same.”
“I guess I’ll have to watch you dance sometime. Then I’ll draw my own conclusions.”
“You do that.”
They skated for another half hour or so, an exhilarating workout. Then they called it quits and left the ice.
“That was fun. Thanks for taking me,” she said as they started their walk back to Trick’s apartment.
“You’re welcome. You need to get out and play more often.”
They came across a group of kids playing in the snow pack on the sidewalk. One of them recognized Trick, so he stopped to talk with them.
Stella stood back and observed. Trick was a natural with kids. He wasn’t condescending, didn’t act like a superstar. He was just a regular guy around the boys. And when one of the kids hit his buddies with a snowball, Trick got into the middle of all of it, like he was one of them.
She laughed at it, until Trick bundled up a snowball and aimed it in her direction. She shrieked and tried to hide, but he ran her down and smacked her in the back with a soft snowball.
Then it was on, and they found themselves in the middle of a snowball war with the kids. Before long several more kids in the neighborhood joined in. Stella had never laughed so hard as she lofted one snowball after the other. These kids were good, obviously having gotten a lot more practice than either she or Trick. Trick was definitely a target—a rather large one—something he didn’t seem to mind at all. Removing herself from the fray, she took pictures of the major battle, laughing at the same time as one of the kids hit Trick with a snowball to the back of the head.
They finally extricated themselves from the bombardment and said good-bye to the kids, making their way back to his apartment.
“I’m pretty sure one of those snowballs landed inside the back of my coat,” she said as she hung it up, then pulled off her boots. “I’m all wet.”
“But you had fun, didn’t you?”
She still had a smile on her face. “I did. It reminded me of building snow forts with Greta when we were kids.”
“Yeah, my sister and I used to do the same thing. Coffee?” he asked as they made their way into the kitchen.
“Definitely.”
He brewed them each a cup, and took the cream out of the refrigerator for her.
“Thanks.”
He laid his cup down, then went over and turned on the Christmas tree lights before taking a seat on the sofa next to her.
“Looks good there,” he said.
She stared up at the dancing angel, still so surprised he’d thought of her when he’d bought it. She didn’t know what to make of it—or of him. Or of their relationship.
Dammit. There was that word again, the one she so religiously avoided.
“Yeah, it looks good.”
“You and I should spend Christmas together.”
She nearly choked on her sip of coffee. She shifted to face him. “What?”
“You said you weren’t going home, and your parents won’t be coming here. We should spend Christmas together.”
Christmas together? She waited for the panic to clutch her around the throat.
Nothing came. It always did when some guy asked her for anything that felt remotely like a commitment. And spending a holiday together was a commitment. It was a relationship.
But Trick wasn’t just some guy. He was becoming more than that.
She waited again for the terror, the need to end things, to run as far and as fast as she could.
Nothing. Still, she was going to have to handle this whole thing delicately.