“Come on up,” I heard him call down, and I slipped underneath the rope. Coming around the last bend, I could see the rink as the trees thinned. Framed by an arched timber roof but open on the sides, the rink wasn’t big, it wasn’t small, it was just right. A small window opened to what I guessed would be a kitchen, serving hot chocolate on cold wintry days; there were a few chairs scattered around, an equipment counter for checking out ice skates, and because it was Bryant Mountain House, an enormous fieldstone fireplace, complete with rocking chairs in front of the roaring fire.
“You built a fire? For just the two of us?” I called out, still not seeing Archie. Walking around toward the fire, I saw a mug of the expected hot chocolate, still hot enough to be steaming, then heard a whoosh from behind.
I turned to see Archie skating across the white ice. He was fast, his feet laced into thick black hockey skates, and as he neared the edge he did that weird thing boys always do to girls at skating rinks.
He stopped short and sprayed me with ice.
“Is this because I don’t have a pigtail for you to pull?” I sputtered, wiping the slush from my face.
He muttered something that sounded an awful lot like ‘I’ll give you something to pull’ as he leaned over the railing. “Ready to lace up?”
“We’re just going to go right to it? No warming up, no easing in, just boom, we’re doing it?”
“I had no idea ice-skating could be so riddled with innuendo.”
“I live in the world of innuendo.”
His eyes twinkled. “I can take another pass around, shoot you with some more ice if you want, but . . .”
I shook my head. “Point me toward the skates, Hotel Boy, and you’ll see just how fast I can go down.”
He coughed, not quite smothering a laugh. “I picked out a few sizes for you, one of them should fit. I had to dip into the kids’ skates, your feet are really tiny.”
“Good thing my boobs aren’t.”
“A very good thing,” he said, and this time made no effort to contain his laughter. I chanced a look back at him, and he was skating backward away from me, holding his hands out like he was squeezing melons.
I looked on the counter and there were indeed several pairs of skates lined up. He was right, the only ones that actually fit me were kids’ skates. I knew they were for kids because they were pink and covered with kittens.
“What’s taking you so long, Ms. Morgan?” he yelled across the ice.
“The laces, they’re all double knotted,” I yelled back, struggling to get them untied. A few quick swooshes later and he was by my side, then at my feet.
“Gimme.”
“Ask nicely.”
“Bossy, please gimme.”
“That’s better,” I said, handing him the tangled mess.
He worried at the knot for a moment. While he did, I took that same moment to admire him. It wasn’t often that I got to see Archie dressed more casually, and while there will never be anything as gorgeous as this man in a tailored suit, there was something very appealing about seeing him dressed down and comfortable. Wearing well-worn jeans and a wheat-colored cable-knit sweater with just a hint of a blue T-shirt sticking out of the top, he looked relaxed and happy. Well, he was happy until he started working on the knot I’d given him.
“It’s terrible,” he murmured.
“I tried to tell you,” I protested as he set the skates down and looked up at me. His eyelashes were the exact color of his hair, maybe even a little more deeply red. Set against the deep blue of his eyes, they were mesmerizing.
“It’s terrible,” he repeated, placing his hands on either side of the wooden bench I was sitting on and rising up on his knees, “that this is the first chance I’ve had to kiss you all damn day.”
“That is terrible,” I agreed, as he brought his face to within inches of mine. I could feel his warm breath puffing against my lips.
He kissed me once, then again. Soft, gentle, warm.
He pulled back to look at me. “I thought about you.”
“You did?”
He nodded. “I thought about that little body of yours, naked in the tub, all wet and waiting.”
I licked my lips. “Not just wet from the water.”
“Jesus,” he exhaled, hanging his head on my shoulder. I took the opportunity to drop a kiss on the top of his head.
“Let’s get this skating over with so we can go be naked somewhere,” I said. His shoulders shook. “Are you laughing or crying?” I asked.
“Both,” he answered, lifting his head and kissing me soundly. “Come on, Bossy, let’s hit the ice.”
Knots untangled, he helped me slip the skates on, not without taking the time to run his hands from my ankle to my hip and back again, and then took my hand to help me up.
I waddled to the railing. “What I said earlier, about being shitty at skating?”
“Yes?” he asked, stepping out onto the ice, still holding my hand.
I took my first step out onto the ice. He looked back, then down.
“Yeah, I wasn’t kidding,” I replied, my butt hitting the ice within a nanosecond of my trying to actually stand on it.
“Oh man,” he murmured as I floundered below.
“You should definitely not help me up.” I scowled, trying like hell to get my feet underneath me but failing miserably.
“You run marathons,” he said.
“Yep.” My left foot shot out in front of me.
“You compete in triathlons.”
“Also. Dammit.” My right foot shot out behind me. “True.”
“You chased me up a mountain, for God’s sake, and almost beat me.”
“I did. Beat you.” I hung in midair, the only thing keeping me from plunging back onto the ice with my legs crossed was his hand, which I clung to like a chin-up bar.
“But you can’t skate?” He was incredulous.
“You’re lucky you’re so pretty.” I huffed, puffed, struggled, and strained to regain my balance, and the tiniest bit of dignity. I scrambled back up, climbing Archie like a ladder, until I stood before him once more. Teetering violently but standing.
“I can’t believe I found something you’re not good at,” he said, his voice full of wonder.
“Now, look,” I started, poking him in the chest and in doing so, losing my balance once more. This time he caught me tightly against his chest to prevent me from going down again. “Don’t you make fun of me,” I said directly to his belly button.
“Oh, if I only had a camera,” he mused.
“Oh, if I only had a hammer, I’d hammer you in—”
“Let’s try something different,” he hastily proclaimed. Pulling me back up to my full height once more, he stepped carefully around, expertly dodging my flailing blade-laden feet, to stand just behind me. Grasping me around the waist firmly, he tucked me back against him. “Give me your hands.”
“What’s happening, what are you doing?” My hands were what kept me from eating ice; the idea that he was taking that away from me was scary at best, world ending at worst.
“Shhh,” he soothed, his mouth at my ear. “Just relax. Literally relax, your muscles are like knots.” Slowly, he pushed off with his own skates and moved us both across the ice.
“This is a terrible idea,” I moaned, feeling the ice passing under us. “I’ll end up taking you down with me.”
“Not possible,” he said, his own skates moving sure and steady across the slippery surface. “Get your balance, just trust it.”
“But I’ll fall. There’s no way I won’t fall, there’s no way this won’t end badly.”