Chapter 14 Ruth #3
“He does. Reminds me of Noah at that age. He just never had any fear,” I say, as we finish our lap and start another one.
A breathless laugh escapes me, and he smiles like he’s proud of making it happen.
I feel like a teenager again, wrapped in a crush that’s quickly spiraling into something deeper.
His fingers tighten into mine, and my heart trips in my chest. We keep skating around the outside of the rink, locked in a rhythm that isn’t perfect, but it’s working.
We skate until the song is over, and I leak out the last of my nerves in a giggle and grab the wall, ready to breathe. “Don’t make me do that again.”
He places one hand on the wall, leaning in right next to me, but leaves the hand that was on my hip in place. For a moment, I check it, as it seems a little odd to have to hold me up, when my hands are both firmly on the wall. Then I turn my gaze back to him.
Before I know what is happening, his hand tightens even more, drawing me to him, and he leans down until our lips are only separated by a breath. I pause a second, maybe two. Just enough to feel his warmth.
Have I lost my mind to behave like this?
And in public?
Someone is bound to recognize me.
I pull back quickly, turning my face, heart pounding, while my lips tingle with the kiss that didn't happen. He exhales slowly and covers his mouth with his hand like he’s trying not to move too fast.
“Sorry.” I smile, small and shaky. “I should probably get home.”
He nods while a serious expression takes over his face. “I’m sorry if I crossed a line.”
“It’s fine.” I don’t look at him as I step over to the exit and continue to the icehouse to return my skates and get my shoes.
The silence stretches. It’s thick with tension and every time I sneak a look at him, he’s giving me a heated gaze.
My heart races, tangling up into a mess of want and confusion.
This was a bad idea.
Who really thinks a non-date is going to stay a non-date?
I’m screaming at myself for being such a fool, all while we walk to the parking lot, and I reach my car and fumble for my keys in my pocket.
He shifts beside me. “I don’t want to leave it like this.
I don’t want things to be weird. I wasn’t trying to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.
I know we set boundaries about this not being a date ”—he glances at the ground, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and then raises his gaze back to mine—“but skating with you like that to that song just did something to me where I momentarily forgot, and it was my fault. I didn’t mean to upset you. ”
“You didn’t upset me.” My words tumble out with a shaky breath as I can’t believe I’m about to be honest. Before I lose my nerve, I go on, “I liked it. That was the problem. I liked skating with you and being here with you. I liked it all a little too much.”
His brows soften as his gaze hovers over me, trailing from my eyes to my lips and back again. There’s something unspoken in the way he looks at me. It’s tender and intense, like he’s fighting the urge to dive in again.
I don’t say a word.
For a brief moment, I focus on my car as my brain seems to be sending out a last warning to me to get in and drive away before everything changes. I don’t heed that warning. Instead, I turn back to him, and against my better judgment, I tilt my face up and stare into his eyes.
He leans in so slowly, my lips are practically burning by the time his breath brushes mine, warm, inviting, and I feel it all over. My heart ramps up. My stomach tightens. The distance between us shrinks to nothing. Suddenly I forget how to stand.
His eyes flick to mine one more time.
And for a moment, I can’t breathe.
Because I don’t want him to stop.
I want him to kiss me so badly, my lips part.
He dips a little closer. His nose brushes mine. The air between us thickens.
His lips barely graze mine for a whisper of a second that sets every nerve in my body on fire.
I sway into him, drawn like gravity, but I catch myself in time and turn my head away while my breath catches in my throat.
My whole face burns, and I don’t dare meet his eyes.
“Sorry,” I murmur, though I’m not sure if I’m apologizing for pulling away or for wanting to kiss him.
He doesn’t move, but his tone is a little hoarse. “You don’t have to be.”
I finally glance up, and the way he’s looking at me is almost too much. “It sounds so bad, and like a cheesy line, but it really isn’t you,” I say, “It’s just…you know, I can’t do this, and I really should get home.”
“I get it.” He nods, releasing me gently.
I put one hand on my door, but he beats me to the door handle as he reaches around me and opens it for me.
I hop in, but he shifts his body in the space between my door and my seat, blocking me from closing the door.
He stares at me intensely. “Can I call you?”
No!
I want to tell him to go before I do something reckless again. But the words stay on the tip of my tongue.
Not when he’s looking at me like that.
He’s got one hand propped against my car door, his body angled enough to cage me in, without actually touching me. It’s maddening how close he is, how aware I am of the heat permeating off his body.
His other hand rests casually in his pocket, but there’s nothing casual about the rest of him.
His shoulders are broad, likely from all the years of playing hockey.
His mouth is slightly parted, like he wants to maybe say something but hasn’t decided how to say it.
Maybe he’s thinking about kissing me again?
And don’t get me started on his eyes!
They’re locked on mine, and there’s so much tension rising from my body my pulse races.
He has to know exactly what he’s doing to me.
The curl of a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. It’s not a cocky grin you’d expect from someone with his credentials. There’s softness underneath it. Yet, the gleam in his eyes betrays him. He wants to kiss me more.
And maybe I do too?
He shifts, sloping a fraction closer, and my breath hitches. His scent, clean and fresh and something totally him, wraps around me like a shield I didn’t ask for. I press my back into my seat, trying to create distance between us when there’s nowhere to go.
Because he’s not touching me, but I can’t ignore him while he's this close. “Do you always look at people with that smirk?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even as my breath shortens.
“Not people. Only you.” He arches a brow, languid and self-assured.
Oh.
I don't even know what to say. If he wasn’t standing in my way, I should slam my door shut and just leave before this gets out of hand.
I don't.
Instead, my mouth parts.
Nothing comes out.
Just a breath.
He leans in slightly, voice low and smooth, his voice rough at the edges. “Tell me to leave.”
“Leave.” It comes out quickly, and we both chuckle.
As if to test me, he shifts his weight away from me, as if he’s ready to leave. I don’t say anything. I need him to leave. “It’s just that we’re in public. Someone could see us, and Noah. This is going to be weird for him.”
His lips purse out, as he backs away a small step. “Got it. I’ll walk away, but I’m going to call you later.”
I open my mouth to tell him no, but my body betrays me. I don’t get a word out. So, he shuts my door and stands back as he flashes his palm up to wave goodbye.
I crank the engine with urgency, yelling at myself for ever going on a non-date with Bill Baker.
Who knew a non-date would turn out to be the best date?