Chapter Eighteen Odette #2
I race toward it, stopping myself at the last second so I don’t seem too eager. I exhale a long breath, then brush my sweaty hands off on the front of my thermal leggings and open the door.
Noah is already smiling.
Before all this started with him, I would’ve been concerned, because Noah’s smiles were few and far between.
But now? Now all it does is make me smile.
“Hi,” he says, that deep voice of his doing something to me it shouldn’t be. He told me we were on a strict schedule tonight, and there would be no room for tomfoolery.
But now that he’s standing in front of me in a pair of jeans that hug his thick thighs and a simple dark-green sweater that makes his already gorgeous brown eyes ten times prettier, I really want to fool around with him. Especially when I spy Pork at his feet. Why is Cat Dad Noah so damn hot?
“Hi yourself,” I say back, then point to the cat. “I take it he’s staying here?”
“Do you mind? I had no intentions of bringing him, but I was halfway through town when I realized he was curled up in the back seat. I think he’s been taking lessons from Tootsie on how to escape. I found him in the taproom yesterday. He was playing with the puck.”
I instantly know he’s talking about the one he has up on the fireplace mantel.
I mock gasp. “Not the puck!”
“Laugh all you want, but when I’m dead and buried, that puck will be worth something one day.”
“And then I’ll finally be rich.”
He rolls his eyes, lips twitching. He doesn’t want to find me amusing, but he definitely does. “Are you ready?”
I nod. “Yep, just need to find my purse.”
I leave the door open for him and Pork to enter. The cat wastes no time trotting across my apartment, straight to the couch, where Beans is hidden underneath.
Pork wiggles his way under there, and I hear them meow at one another as if they’re saying hello.
I make a quick stop in the kitchen to put some food in the spare bowl I have for Pork, then grab my purse from the coffee table.
“So, what’s this mystery destination you’re taking me to? And why do I need to dress warm in the middle of summer?”
“You’ll see,” Noah says coyly, and I want to be annoyed he’s not giving anything away, but I can’t find it in me to be.
His hand settles on my lower back as he leads me out the door, hitting the lock button on the keypad behind us. I relish his touch the whole way down the stairs and get entirely too giddy inside when he pulls open my door for me.
I’ve never been with someone who does that, and I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.
Noah settles into the driver’s seat, then leads us out of town. Music—an old eighties rock station that seems to play nothing but love ballads—plays in the background as we drive into the sunset.
“For being such a rainy day, it sure has turned into a gorgeous evening,” I comment.
“Yes, yes, it has.”
But when I look over at Noah, he’s not looking out at the beautiful yellow and pink and orange hues that tint the sky.
He’s looking at me.
His big hand falls to my thigh, and that’s where it stays the rest of the ride, burning my skin beneath his touch.
We drive for twenty minutes before he finally pulls off into an empty parking lot. A big building sits in front of us, looking like it’s seen better days.
I know I’ve driven past it several times on my way to Seattle, but I can’t recall what this place is.
“I don’t know what you had in mind, but it looks like this place is closed.”
He ignores me as he pulls into a spot right up front and puts the truck in park.
“Uh, Noah?” I say when he pushes open his door. “Did you hear me? This place is closed.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Says the murderer.”
He chuckles. “If I were going to kill you, I would have done it all those weeks ago when you blackened my eye.”
I roll my eyes. “I thought you were over that.”
He points to the tiny red mark that still sits on the bridge of his nose. “No, I am not over it and I will never be over it. It will be with me forever, just like this scar I’m going to inevitably have.”
I grimace. “Did I ever tell you how sorry I am about that?”
“Only about a hundred times.” He nods toward the building. “Now come on. Let’s head inside. We only have this place for so long.”
“Because the cops are definitely going to bust us for breaking into this abandoned building, right?”
He sighs. “Has anyone ever told you you’re exhausting, Odie?”
“Only after sex.”
I wink at him, then climb out of his oversize truck, meeting him at the back.
He pulls a giant bag from the bed.
“Not going to murder me, my ass,” I mutter as I follow behind him.
“Quit tempting me.”
I grin as he pulls a key chain from his pocket and unlocks the door.
“Oh, good. You have a key. So we’re not going to jail, but we are definitely getting tetanus.”
He shakes his head at me, but I don’t miss his grin as he grabs my hand and leads me inside the dark, creepy building.
Then suddenly it’s not as dark and creepy when he flips the lights on. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust, but as soon as they do, I realize that this place isn’t quite abandoned. It’s just . . . well, not in great shape, that’s for sure.
The tile on the floor looks like it could be replaced, the paint on the walls is peeling in multiple spots, and I’m pretty sure that was a mouse that just scurried across the floor.
Noah doesn’t seem bothered by any of it as he leads us down the hall and pushes through double doors.
This room isn’t dark at all. If anything, it’s too bright.
But I know instantly where we are.
“Noah, this is . . .” I say as I look around, taking in the bleachers that have seen better days, the scoreboard that looks like it’s barely hanging on, and two hundred feet of ice before us.
“A bit of a wreck?”
“Well, yes.” I laugh. “But it’s amazing too. What is this place?”
“An ice rink?”
I shoot him a look, and he chuckles.
“All right, so you’ve surmised that much, I can tell.”
“Yes, I’m aware of what an ice rink is. I guess what I mean is, why are we here?”
“To skate.”
“We’re skating on this?”
“Yep.” He drops the bag he brought inside with us onto the floor, then falls to one knee and unzips it. “You wear a size nine, don’t you?”
“Okay, one, it’s creepy that you know that, and yes, I’m a size nine. Why?”
“Uh, for your skates, obviously.” He pulls out a pair of ice skates that look brand new. “I got a few different sizes because skates are funny sometimes and don’t always align with your shoe size. Try the sevens first and see how those do.”
He holds them out to me, and I take them, inspecting them. I have no idea how I’m going to fit into these, since they’re two sizes smaller than I normally wear.
But that’s not the real issue here.
“Noah, these are really nice and all, but I . . . I don’t know how to ice-skate.”
He grins up at me as he pulls out another pair of skates for himself, this style different from mine, and I know right away they’re the skates he used to wear when he played. “I guess it’s a good thing you came here with a retired hockey player, isn’t it?”
“We’re really doing this? You’re really teaching me how to ice-skate?”
He shrugs, pushing to his feet. “If you want, yeah. But if you don’t feel comfortable, then no. We can just sit here and take it all in.”
“I want! I want!”
He laughs at my excitement, then points to a bench. “Take a seat. I’ll get you laced up.”
I do as he says and only slightly panic when the bench nearly gives way.
He winces, helping to steady me.
I watch in awe as he rolls his sleeves, effortlessly laces my skates, then settles beside me and pulls his own on.
“How do those feel?” he asks, nodding toward my skates, and I pretend I wasn’t just admiring how hot he looks right now.
“Good.”
“Not too loose?”
“Nope.”
“Good.” He hops to his feet, then holds his hand out to me. “You ready?”
I let him pull me up, then shrug. “I guess.”
He senses the apprehension in my voice. “I’ll hold on to you the whole time. I promise I won’t let go until you tell me to. If you tell me to.”
I nod, letting him lead me out onto the ice.
As expected, it’s slippery, but not as much as I thought it’d be.
Still, Noah holds on to me as we keep moving. He lets me clutch onto the wall and him, not irritated at all over the fact that I’m going too slow, especially when he was a literal pro at this.
“Ah, whoa!” I yell as I almost go down.
To my surprise, he doesn’t even laugh at me. He just tightens his grip and helps steady me.
“You’re doing great,” he says, watching my form.
“I’m not, but you talking helps. Tell me something else to distract me. Like what the hell it is we’re doing at this derelict place.”
He laughs. “I told you, we’re skating.”
“Noah . . .”
“Fine.” He uses his free hand to squeeze the back of his neck. “You showed me your wedding wish list, so I wanted to show you something too.” He blows out a breath, and it’s shaky, almost like he’s nervous to say the next part.
“You can tell me anything,” I encourage him.
He nods. “I know. It’s just . . . I’m scared, you know? I don’t want to jinx it because it’s not final yet.” Another heavy exhale. “If things go our way, this is the future home of the Stick Taps Community Iceplex.”
“The training camp you want to start?”
He nods. “Yeah. This is it. The current owner is looking to retire and doesn’t have the funds to fix it up to sell it.
Ezra and I have been eyeing it for a while now, biding our time until the old man was ready.
It looks like he is now, so we put an offer in.
Nothing is official yet, but it’s looking like it’s ours. ”
“Noah!”
I launch myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He squeezes me tightly, almost as if he’s afraid he’ll lose me if he lets go. To be fair, he might, since I am definitely not a natural-born skater.
“That’s incredible. I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks,” he says into my hair. “I’ve been itching to find a way to give back to the game that gave me so much, and I think this is just the way to do it.”
“You’re going to be incredible at it. I mean, look how patient you are with me. You haven’t laughed once.”
“I have on the inside.”
I pinch him, and he chuckles.
Then he’s not laughing at all. He’s kissing me.
His hands thread through my hair as his lips coax mine open. His tongue slips into my mouth, brushing against my own in slow, lazy strokes.
I wrap my leg around his, trying to climb him because I want more, and he laughs, pulling away.
“Easy there, Odie. You’re wearing knife boots, and I’m not wearing protective gear.”
“Boo.”
He kisses the tip of my nose. “And you were worried I’d try to murder you.”
“I still am.” He tugs on me, pulling me away from the wall. “And clearly I have good reason to be. I am not skilled enough for open ice.”
“Do you trust me?”
It’s what he asked me in the parking lot too. And though I gave him a smart-ass answer then, it was only because I was too scared to tell him the truth.
I do trust him. More than he knows. More than I probably should.
I trust him with my heart . . . and that’s the scariest part of all.