Chapter 4
CHAPTER
FOUR
Liam
Wollman Rink glows like a Norman Rockwell painting with its white ice, soft golden lights strung around the perimeter, and the dark silhouettes of the city rising behind the trees. The night is crisp, the kind of cold that nips at your nose, but doesn’t bite.
But none of it touches the heat that hits me when I look at her.
She stands there in that red coat, cheeks flushed from skating and laughter, breath puffing in small clouds.
The lights catch in her hair, turning her into something warm and bright against the winter night.
And, yeah … even if it were below freezing, that sight alone could thaw any man straight through.
She’s skating circles around me, and it’s not that it’s hard to do since my skating skills are not top-tier.
Sure, I can throw a football for seventy yards and work my way around three-hundred-pound linemen, but I cannot for the life of me find my balance on these skates.
In my defense, the skates we rented aren’t the best. The blades are dull and well past needing to be replaced.
But I’m letting this little Vixen pull my ass around, looking like an idiot.
“You’re doing so good. I think you’re ready to go on your own now, don’t you?” She tries to let go of my hand, but I squeeze hers tighter.
“I’m not so sure I’m ready for that yet. You can’t leave me.” There might be a slight panic to my tone, but I don’t even care. I brace my legs and stand stock-still.
She belts out a laugh, dropping her head back. Once she catches her breath, she looks at me. “You got this. You’re an athlete. I have faith in you, Blitzen.”
“I don’t know. I feel pretty unsteady—” What she just said stops me. “Wait. You know I’m an athlete?”
She opens her mouth, then closes it. Her gaze meets mine, and a slow smile forms on her lips. “I mean, you have all that”—she gestures to my body—“going on. And I can’t even see the whole thing under the jacket.”
“Uh huh.” I slide myself closer to her and, with a confidence in my balance that I don’t quite have, I reach out and slide my hand around her neck.
“And you don’t look hot-girl fit.”
“What the hell is hot-girl fit?”
“A body that looks good but lacks cardiovascular endurance.” She lifts a brow. “Aesthetic only. No stamina.”
I bark out a laugh. “Zero stamina? That’s what you think of me?”
“I don’t know,” she says, pretending to inspect me like I’m a questionable produce item. “You look like you could run a mile, but you also give off strong needs an inhaler after climbing stairs energy.”
“Oh, that’s rude.” I tighten my hand at the back of her neck just enough to draw her a fraction closer. “Very rude, Vixen.”
“Truthful,” she counters, but her voice dips, betraying her.
“And what energy do you give off?” I ask.
She pretends to think. “Hot-girl fit with exceptional emotional intelligence.”
I snort. “That’s not a category.”
“It is if I say it is.”
“You realize,” I say, leaning in until my forehead almost touches hers, “you’re talking a lot of smack for someone who’s currently one slip away from landing in my lap.”
Her gaze flicks down, just for a second. “Please. If I wanted to be in your lap, I’d already be there.”
My pulse stutters. “Is that right?”
She shrugs, all faux innocence. “I mean … you’re the one holding my neck like you’re about to make a move.”
Oh, I am. Very much.
But before I can deliver a clever comeback—or actually act on the gravitational pull between us—her skate slides just a hair.
She grabs my jacket with both hands, eyes wide. “Okay, nope! Too close! Blitzen, stabilize me!”
I try. I really do.
But she’s clutching me, and I’m overconfident, and suddenly, we’re both wobbling like newborn deer on ice.
“Don’t fall,” she warns.
“You’re the one—”
She yelps, I overcorrect, and we end up chest to chest, her breath warm against my chin, our skates locked in a doomed tangle.
We freeze.
Her hands are fisted in my jacket.
My hand is still on her neck.
Her nose brushes mine. “If we fall,” she whispers, “you’re going down first.”
“Gladly,” I murmur, “but maybe not on the ice.”
Her eyes flare just before she shoves me—playfully, barely—just enough to untangle our skates.
“Focus, athlete,” she says, cheeks flushed. “We’re here to skate, not flirt.”
I grin. “Pretty sure we’re doing both.”
She groans, but she’s smiling. “God help me, you might have the stamina after all.” She shakes her head and looks away.
My hand falls, but I bend my head to try to catch her eye. “Come on, Vixen. Tell me what you really think of me. No bullshit.”
“I’ll tell you this.” She purses her painted red lips and puts her hand on my shoulder.
“I like your face. You have a sweet smile and an air of confidence that I’m into.
Your eyes are mischievous, which should be a warning sign, but I find myself wanting to know more about you rather than walk away.
You’re fun to hang out with, and you follow along with me, even when you don’t know what my plans are.
You roll with it, which tells me you’re easygoing and able to adjust your plan when needed.
So, I guess what I’m saying is, I’m pleasantly surprised by how my night turned out. ”
For a second, something warm hits me right in the chest.
Who the hell is this woman?
I’ve dated confidence before. I’ve met spontaneous. But I’ve never met someone who’s both those things and somehow still impossible to predict. Someone who can make the entire room blur out just by looking at me like she means every damn word. It’s … unnerving. And addictive.
A smile breaks across my face. “Okay, Vixen. I like you too. And I couldn’t be happier with how my night turned out.”
We’re locked in a stare—one of those rare moments where everything goes quiet—and I swear something shifts.
Right when I think she feels it too, “Jingle Bell Rock” blares through the speakers.
She breaks eye contact, releases my hand, and pushes off, skating away from me backward with that smug little smirk.
The moment snaps in half.
“Hey! You can’t just leave me here on my own!” I shout over the music.
She lifts her chin and laughs—light, teasing, like I didn’t just hand her a piece of something real. “You got this, Blitzen. I believe in you! Come on. Follow me!” she shouts back and waves her hand toward herself.
And just like that, she turns my quietly emotional, chest-tight moment into a chase.
Damn her.
But I go after her anyway.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’d better not hurt myself, or Coach will have my ass,” I mumble as I start to shuffle my feet.
“Just go for it! If you go too slow, you’ll definitely fall. Slide and glide, my friend.” She spins, then takes off at a speed that makes me a little nervous.
“Fuck. Okay, get yourself together, Pitz. You look like a pussy out here.” My little pep talk is enough to get my glide on. One foot, then the other. Okay, this isn’t so bad. I think I can do this.
“Look at you go! I knew you could do it.” She spins around me again, then skates backward, watching me move.
“I don’t understand how you can skate like that. Aren’t you scared you’re going to run into someone?” I’m kind of nervous about it, honestly. There’s no way I can get to her safely if she gets hurt.
“You mean, like this?” She swerves and wiggles her hands in the air.
“Ha-ha, funny girl.” I’m trying to be serious, but I can’t help but laugh.
She looks so happy and carefree.
I stand here, just watching her.
And it hits me—hard enough to knock the air out of my lungs.
Is it actually possible to fall for someone after only a few hours?
I used to give Archie so much shit for that—swearing he’d lost his mind when he and Emma clicked on day one.
But now … yeah, I get it.
And I don’t want to get it.
Because I’m not that guy. I don’t do commitment. I don’t choose romance over football or my family or … anything really. This night was supposed to be fun—one night, no expectations, no complicated aftermath.
Yet here I am, wanting things I shouldn’t want.
Wanting to be in her space.
Wanting her in mine.
Wanting to know her—really know her, every sharp edge and soft part she hides behind the jokes.
It’s ridiculous.
It’s dangerous.
And if I were the kind of guy who let relationships matter, I already know exactly where I’d be headed with her.
Unfortunately, I’m not that guy.
So, why does it suddenly feel like I could be?
Her long brown hair is flying behind her as she speeds around the rink. She keeps turning her head to find me, a smile on her face. And those eyes, glittering. She really is stunning.
And she looks like mine.
My feet are moving of their own accord now in her direction. I want to get to her and wrap her in my arms.
“You coming to get me, Blitzen?” She starts to giggle.
“I am.” But I’m actually not, because I windmill my arms, trying to keep my balance, but my feet slide out from under me. “Fuck!”
I land flat, not just on my ass, but completely laid out. I somehow manage not to hit my head on the ice, thankfully preventing a concussion.
“Holy shit, are you okay?” Ice sprays all over me as she comes to a stop next to me. When she bends down, she puts her hands on either side of my face. “You good?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “Maybe you should check my head.”
“Did you bump it?” She places her hands under my head, and I take the opportunity to take hold of her waist and pull her on top of me. “Oh! You little sneak. Are you even hurt?” She braces one hand on the ice beside my head, the other on my chest, holding herself above me.
“I’m so hurt.” I pout my lip and give her my best puppy-dog look.
“Uh-huh. Where?” She’s basically straddling me at this point, in the middle of the rink. But I couldn't care less if people are watching us. Or worse, filming us.
“Here?” Her finger runs up my chest, and even through the fabric of my coat and suit, I can feel it. I’ve lost my voice, so I just shake my head and swallow.
“What about here?” She traces my lips with her gloved finger. The leather is smooth on my mouth, but I want more.
Wrapping my hand around her wrist, I tug her in closer to me. “I think you should kiss it and make it better.”
“You do, huh?” She’s a breath away now. It wouldn’t take much for our lips to meet.
The speakers crackle, and a calm, overly cheerful voice echoes across the rink. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your last song of the skate session. Please finish your laps and exit the ice when the music ends.”
“I guess that’s our cue to leave,” I say, brushing her lips with mine.
“Sounds like it.” She sits up, straddling my hips, then swings one of her legs to meet the other so she’s kneeling next to me. “Do you think you can get up on your own?”
“Probably not in a pretty way, but, yeah, I’ll manage.” I’m slightly irritated that our moment was interrupted. Again. But I smile instead because I know that just because our time here is up, our night doesn’t have to be over. “Hey, you getting hungry?”
I maneuver myself so I’m on all fours, which isn’t a graceful look, but I just need to get on my feet so I can get to the side and pull my way back to the bench to remove these demon slicers.
“Starving.” She holds out her hand to me as I manage to stand. “I know just the place.”