Page 27 of Unromance

“Okay. I don’t know what that means and, as your mother, I don’t think I want to, especially if it has anything to do with those apps.”

Call the press. Mark your calendars. Moira Westnotprying. Monumental. Historic.

He said none of this, hurrying his mom off the phone and promising to call her again tomorrow to discuss the Christmas plans she’d called to talk about today before she had launched into an immediate dissection of his life.

He was dressed and out the door in two minutes, glad to be away from the conversation that seemed to linger in the air of his apartment. As the ruthless Chicago wind chafed his face, he found himself wishing he still had the beard from the TMZ photo.

The Millennium Park skating rink was only a few blocks away, but Sawyer still beat him there, immediately recognizable in her mustard-yellow coat. A smile spread across his face when he spotted her, and the knot in his gut loosened a fraction.

He tried not to think too hard about what that meant.

“You ready to do this?” he asked with a forced cheeriness.

She shook her head side to side, green eyes wide.

“Shit,” he said, tugging off his beanie in frustration. “I forgot the cider.”

“It’s fine,” she insisted. “Probably best if I’m sober while knives are strapped to my feet. I have a feeling I won’t need any extra help ruining today’s cliché,” she added with a furtive glance toward the rink.

Mason caught the eye of a gaggle of shoppers, one of them narrowing her eyes as if trying to place his face. He shoved his beanie back on his head. “C’mon,” he said gruffly.

Sawyer glanced up at him, attempting to follow his gaze as he took her hand and guided her toward the rental booth. “Everything alright?”

He glanced back, but the group had moved on. He exhaled slowly. “It’s fine. Crisis averted.”

Her brows rose at the wordcrisis. She squeezed his hand, which he was still grasping like a lifeline. He immediately dropped it, not consciously having meant to grab it in the first place. If someone had seen, snapped a photo… He could see the headline now: “Rebound Wars: Who Did It Better?” His mother would be elated.

He blinked, and Sawyer was still smiling softly up at him, dark brows arched in concern. “If you’re worried this is too public, we can go another time, some tiny rink—or better yet,notdo this.”

He shoved all thoughts of the tabloids from his mind. “Oh, we’re doing this. It’s on the list.”

“Damn it,” Sawyer swore. “Sevens, please,” she said in resignation when they reached the front of the queue for skates.

The rink was packed with tourists and holiday shoppers taking a break, which was better than a smaller rink. The crowd would be easier for them to lose themselves in. Besides, he’d always wanted to come on a date here. They needed to ruin this fantasy.

They settled onto a nearby bench to lace up their skates, Sawyer chewing on the inside of her cheek as she watched the groups skating around the rink.

Mason nudged her with his shoulder, gesturing toward a father cheering on his daughter as she skated clumsily with the assistance of a plastic penguin-shaped skate trainer. “I can get you one of those, if you like,” he teased.

“Is that a short joke?” she clapped back.

He grinned, unable to stop his gaze from roving over her tiny frame. His attention snagged on her hastily tied laces. “Oh no. You want them tight.” Crouching down, he propped her skate against his thigh and undid her laces. Once the first had been sufficiently tightened, he guided her other foot into his lap. He could feel her eyes on him, meeting her gaze as he retied the second skate. Her mouth curved up ever so slightly at the corners. “If you make a joke about me on my knees again, I swear—”

She leaned forward, so close that the white clouds of their breath intermingled. “You’ll what?”

Tearing his attention from her insufferable mouth and the coconut lip balm that he could now smell, he shook his head. He hadn’t forgotten about Rule #2. She was only teasing him to test him. He wouldn’t fall for it so easily this time.

Rising to his feet, he held out his hand. “Ready?”

She flashed him a nervous grin, eyes on the skaters as she allowed him to pull her to her feet. Her shoulders ratcheted up toward herears, and he realized how truly nervous she was. “You know I got you, right?” he murmured.

She met his gaze, the pucker between her brows smoothing as she nodded. “Yeah. I trust you,” she said equally as soft. His chest suddenly felt tight. “It’s those fuckers I don’t trust.” She pointed behind him, to a pair of experienced skaters zipping between the slower-moving groups.

A young girl let out a startled yelp as one of them whizzed by her, and Mason frowned. “Well, I don’t know if you know this,” he began conspiratorially, guiding her toward the rink’s opening. “But when not performing shirtless surgeries, I make an excellent bodyguard.”

“Oooh,” Sawyer cooed. “Bodyguard romance.Classic.”

“So, I’m winning this one,” Mason said with a smirk.

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