Page 44 of Flirty Pucking Wolf

When she catches her breath, she pins me with her clear gray gaze. “If you want to dance with joy, you need to feel it. What makes you happy? You don’t have to tell me, just think of that while you’re dancing.”

The only thing I can think of is Sophie. She brings me joy, and this time when I move into the choreography for the jive with Randi, I feel that joy in my limbs, imagining Sophie beside me dancing, imagining me giving her everything she wants and needs. Imagining I have the power to make her happy.

It works. I can feel it, and I can see it in Randi’s expression. I’m giving Randi a high five when I glimpse Sophie in the studio mirror. She’s backing away like she doesn’t want me to see her. Crap. I didn’t want her to know I was practicing with Randi. I don’t want the stress of my failures on her shoulders. So I lied. I told her I had extra on-ice practice this morning so I could work with Randi. I feel like I’m cheating on Sophie. I may be a lot of things, but I’ve never been a cheater. Great. I can’t even get being in a fling right.

18

SOPHIE

I watchTrevor and Miranda dance through my choreography. We have the jive for our quarterfinal, and Trevor hasn’t been able to get it right, no matter how many times we’ve practiced the steps. It’s not even one consistent step that I can change to make it easier. He does something different incorrectly each time. It’s impossible to know what to fix. But here he is, dancing it perfectly with Miranda. Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I’m not a good enough partner for him. I wasn’t a good enough partner for Ian. I’ve never been able to keep a partner—in dance or in life.

I back away before they notice me, but I guess I wasn’t fast enough because Trevor calls out my name and rushes after me. Hurriedly brushing the tears off my cheeks, I keep my back to him. Damn. When did I start crying?

“Sophie, what’s wrong?”

When I don’t turn around, he scoots around in front of me. I keep my head lowered because I don’t want him to see the streaks of my tears or my red-rimmed eyes.

“Hey,” he says softly, putting a finger under my chin to gently raise my face to his. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

Jerking my head away, I take a step back. He suddenly feels way too close. “All the times we practice that dance, and you can’t get it right. Now you’re dancing with Miranda and suddenly, you’re perfect? Why can you dance with her and not with me? Do you hate dancing with me that much?” I know I sound angry. I’m glad for it. Anger is a trusty costume, hiding how I really feel. It’s my default, so people don’t know my vulnerabilities.

A beautiful smile spreads across his face, and it makes my heart ache. “I was doing it right? Really?”

I give a single stiff nod. “Yes, you had all the steps. You were perfectly in rhythm. Your form was great, and you looked like you were having fun. Fun you don’t have when we dance together. I’m a horrible teacher and a horrible partner, and I’m sorry you’re stuck with me.”

My attempt to step around him is thwarted when he gently grabs me by my arms and pulls me in for a hug. I stand stiff in his embrace as long as I can, but I eventually relax and rest against him, hooking my fingers on the belt loops of the jeans resting on his trim hips. His usual scent of pine and man, mixed with the slightest tinge of sweat earned dancing, is intoxicating. It takes so much strength to not go up on tiptoe and kiss the base of his throat.

He presses a kiss to the top of my head and tightens his arms around me. His sigh as he rests his cheek on my hair is so deep, I can feel his chest rise and fall.

“Sophie, it’s…it’s easy to dance with Miranda. I know exactly how she’s going to move, and her body just feels right in my arms because we’ve worked together foryears. But I was thinking of you. I’m always thinking of you.”

Of course, perfect Miranda is doing perfect Miranda things again. I try to pull out of his embrace, but he just tightens his hold—not in a restrictive way, but more in aplease don’t leave meway that stops my flight.

“Stop, just listen to me,” he pleads, leaning back to see my face. “Miranda is easy to dance with because she’s comfortable. She’s like old ratty sweatpants.”

“Hey!” I hear from the studio, and it makes me giggle.

“Turn off your ears or turn up the music, Randi! This is private!” Trevor calls back. Suddenly an old song from the Irish band The Corrs plays at a high volume. I haven’t heard it in years, and it makes me sad. I love that song.

Trevor looks back down at me. “As I was saying, dancing with Miranda is comfortable. You make me nervous. I want to be perfect for you, and it’s extremely hard to concentrate on the steps and the rhythm and everything else that goes into it when I’m too distracted to learn.”

My shoulders sag. I knew it. I’m a horrible teacher.

“I can’t focus on learning the dance because I’m trying so hard not to kiss you. I can’t count the steps because I’m counting the freckles on your adorable nose. When you’re in my arms, everything I know flies out the window. Dancing with Miranda is easy. I’m not attracted to her. With you, I’m so busy fighting my attraction that I can’t relax enough to perform. I’m a horrible student. I’m sorry.”

Oh, my heart. This man. I wish I was a different person so I could try to keep him as my own. But I need to be true to myself or else I’ll only hurt both of us.

“Trevor, you’re not! You’re wonderful. I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone but you. I’m just sorry there’s so much stress on you. The playoffs, the hockey semifinals, and finals of the show.”Us.“It’s a lot. And I know I’m demanding, which adds to your stress. You love to dance, and I’m ruining it for you.”

He lowers his lips to mine and gives me the sweetest, tenderest kiss. I love our passionate kisses, full of fire and heat. But these kisses are precious to me and what I’ll remember and cherish forever.

“Sophie, you aren’t ruining anything for me. You make things better. These weeks with you have been wonderful. We just need to get through two more shows, and then you’ll have the pro career you’ve been dreaming of. I can tough it out for a week and a half. I know the dance, so now I’ll focus on smiling and engaging. We can do this, Soph, I know it.”

I want to believe him.

* * *

Second to last dress rehearsal. I hate that I’m not measuring time by how many more dances I get with Trevor. The Devil Birds had their first game of the wild card round last night and lost. It’s a round of five games total, and the first team to win three games advances to the playoffs for the Dickinson Cup. I know Trevor is kicking himself because he whiffed on a slapshot that would’ve tied the game and sent them to overtime. Instead, the New York team took control of the puck and got a goal past Brick, cementing their lead. He refuses to listen to anyone who says it wasn’t his fault. As much as it’s his job to make goals, it’s Brick’s job to stop them. If he’s not blaming her, then he can’t blame himself. But of course, the silly man doesn’t see it that way.

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