Chapter 11
Billie
I think I’m having a panic attack.
Rome and I are sitting on a bench outside the skate rental place and it’s a little hard to breathe.
Dammit.
I don’t know what I’m afraid of.
It’s not like I’m going to do a triple axel and potentially fall on my face. I might fall but Rome is here. And he promised to make sure I don’t.
There’s nothing to be afraid of.
So why am I shaking?
“Let me do that.” Rome must have noticed the tremor in my hands, so he drops down to his haunches and laces up the skates. “Too tight?” he asks.
All I can do is shake my head.
I don’t even feel my feet, so I have no idea.
“Just sit here a minute while I lock up our stuff.”
The place that rents the skates has lockers and Rome disappears with our shoes.
I need to do this. I wish I hadn’t waited so long because now I’ve convinced myself it’s something terrifying, and I’m frozen. I couldn’t stand up now if you paid me a million dollars.
“Okay, babe. Tell me what you want to do.” Rome is standing in front of me looking concerned. Sexy as fuck but concerned.
“I need to find the guts to stand up.”
“That’s easy.” Before I realize what he’s doing, he’s reached down, put his hands on my waist and lifted me in the air before gently setting me on my feet.
I let out a squeak of surprise and then throw myself against his chest, holding on for dear life.
“Come on, baby. You’re okay.” His arms close around me. “I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall. Hold on to me and find your feet. Just focus on your feet, nothing else.”
My eyes are squeezed shut, and I can’t focus on anything except him. How strong and warm he is. How good he smells. How wonderful it feels with his arms around me. How comfortable I am.
“You smell good,” I murmur.
He chuckles. “Thank you. You smell pretty good too. But tell me about your feet.”
I pull in a shaky breath.
Do I even have feet?
Yes. They’re there. Solid.
Because Rome is holding me.
No…wait.
My feet are steady. Balanced. I’m not slipping and sliding. My brain is on the fritz but my body seems to remember what to do. My feet do anyway.
“I… think they’re okay,” I finally say, slowly lifting my head even though I’m not letting go of him until I absolutely have to.
“You’re not moving at all,” he acknowledges. “You want to let go with one arm?”
I shake my head but manage a playful smile. “Nope. I like holding you.”
This time he’s the one who pulls in a shuddery breath—I can feel it—and his eyes bore into mine. “Baby, you know you’re killing me right now, don’t you?”
“That was my plan all along,” I deadpan.
He uses one hand to lift my chin. “I won’t let you fall. And later, when we’re done, I’ll hold you as much as you want.”
“Is that…motivation?”
“Sure.” His eyes twinkle. “Let’s call it motivation.”
We both laugh, and then I close my eyes again. I take a deep breath, hold it a few seconds and slowly let it out. Then I drop one arm.
“I won’t let go, even when you do,” he promises. “You have my word you won’t go down.”
“Help me,” I whisper. “I’m frozen. Do what you have to do.”
There’s silence, and then his warm, strong fingers gently but firmly prying mine from the death grip I have on his shirt. My free hand is squeezed into a fist and I don’t know if I’m breathing, but then that deep, sexy baritone I love so much washes over me.
“Babe, you’re standing. I’ve got my arm around your waist but you’re on your own.”
My eyes fly open, and I look down, as if I don’t quite believe him, but he’s right—I’m standing on these inline skates on my own. He has a hand on my waist, but really, he’s not holding me so much as lending support.
“You okay?”
“Yes?” I bite my lip. “But now I don’t know what to do.”
“Come on, if you take the first step, your body is going to remember. It’s like riding a bike.”
“Sure, easy for you to say when you skate every day.”
“Babe. You got this.” He puts a hand on the side of my face. “Come on. Let’s go.” He edges his feet forward and I have no choice but to follow since he’s still got a hand at my waist.
I move my right leg forward, getting a feel for the wheels, and my left leg follows suit. I flounder for a second but as promised, Rome’s hand tightens on my waist, steadying me.
“That’s it. You got this.” His words of encouragement fill me with pride. and I grab onto his hand as we start to move.
“Oh, fuck.” The words sound more like an extended hiss but we’re on the boardwalk now, lost in a throng of people who aren’t paying the slightest bit of attention.
And for a brief moment in time, it’s just the two of us, hands linked, moving slowly along the beach. The wind comes off the water and I feel a slight chill but I’m too focused on the task at hand—and the man next to me—to pay attention.
“You okay?” Again with the warm, deep voice.
I’m pretty sure I’ll do anything he asks as long as he does it in that voice.
“I’m… getting there.” My legs move a little faster and I realize my body does, indeed, remember what to do. One foot in front of the other, knees slightly bent, and my fingers linked with Rome’s. A veritable lifeline.
“Ready to go faster?” He abruptly turns so he’s facing me and skating backwards. He takes both of my hands and pulls me along. “Come on—try to match my strides.”
“My legs are a lot shorter!” I protest, but I do it anyway, my gaze focused on his muscular thighs and the way his legs glide effortlessly.
I can do this.
I am doing it.
Fuck, yes, I’m skating.
And suddenly it all comes together.
I lift my head and meet his gaze. “I’m doing it.”
“You are.” He’s grinning.
“Faster,” I whisper.
He doesn’t break our gaze but picks up speed.
He’s pulling me but I’m keeping up, my feet finding the rhythm that was once second nature to me.
Roller skates are slightly different from ice skates, but most of the balance and legwork is similar, and as we whoosh past crowds of beachgoers, tourists, and vendors, I’m once again lost in the feeling that it’s just the two of us.
It’s like being under a spell—one you never want to break.
“You’re doing great,” he says, “but do you remember how to stop?”
“Just when I was starting to have fun,” I pretend to grumble, “you had to go and ruin it.”
He slows down a bit, glancing behind him every so often and then glides to a stop.
“This part is harder.”
“Yes.”
“We’ll start slowly, yeah? See if you can stop when you’re going slow and then ramp it up a little at a time.”
“Okay.”
We work on slowing and stopping for the next ten minutes, and while it’s trickier than I remember, it still feels like I’ve done it a million times before. Because I have. It just took a while to come back to me.
Now we’ve found our rhythm, skating hand-in-hand at a moderate pace, talking and laughing. Like it’s a real date instead of him doing me the world’s biggest favor.
And I’m having a great time.
I’d almost forgotten the feeling of being on skates. Wind in my hair, a feeling of freedom that’s unlike anything else.
Impulsively, I pull my hand away, pick up speed and then spin around so I’m the one going backward. Rome grins and matches my gait, easily keeping up, and I do a few turns— forward, backward, and forward again—without slowing down or stopping.
Until now.
I stop so abruptly Rome almost runs into me but I throw my arms around his neck and press my lips to his without even thinking about it.
“Thank you!” I whisper breathlessly. “This was absolutely incredible. I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed it—I’m having so much fun.”
His arms close around my waist and we’re pressed together. Much closer than when we were dancing.
“You’re very welcome. And I’m having fun too.”
Oh, that voice.
It’s going to be the end of me—in the best possible way.
“Are you going to kiss me?” I ask when his eyes zero in on my lips. “Please say yes.”