Page 3 of Love on Thin Ice

Maybe Jack Winters is different.

And as I rattle off my number and he types it into his phone, I realize one thing for sure: I’m in trouble.

Big trouble.

2

My phone buzzesfor the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes, and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. I’m supposed to be working on a new display sketch for the boutique, but Jack has been blowing up my phone with texts all evening, and the butterflies in my stomach are making it hard to concentrate on anything else.

I swipe open the latest message.

I’m just saying, you might want to reconsider the whole “helmets don’t go with floral” thing. Could be the next big trend. Call it…”athleisure couture.”

I laugh, shaking my head.

I’ll let you model the helmets at the Harvest Festival if you’re so confident.

Careful what you wish for, Poppy. I’ve been told I have a great runway walk.

I can just see that, and wow, it’s suddenly so hot in my little house here in Blue Ridge. I try to suppress the giddiness bubbling up inside me and completely fail as a giggle comes out of my mouth. How has this guy—this incredibly gorgeous, superstar hockey player—managed to make me feel like a teenager with a crush after just one day of knowing him?

My phone buzzes again.

Actually…

Actually…

Can I call you?

“Call me?” I glance over to my gray tabby cat, but Mittens doesn’t care at all about a phone call from a hockey team captain.

I’m going to take your silence as a yes.

I’ve barely read the message before my phone vibrates and sings out a Taylor Swift song.

It’s Jack.

My pulse ricochets through my chest, but I manage to swipe on the call. “Hey.” I’m instantly on my feet, pacing into the kitchen, where Mittens will join me, hoping for a second dinner.

“Hey,” he says, his voice rumbly and warm and striking me right in the chest. “How about you come to the sporting goods store’s open house tomorrow night? The whole team will be there, and you can meet some of the guys. I’ll even let you judge my runway walk in person.”

I open the fridge like the contents inside will have the answers I need.An invite to a team event already?I think.That’s a little fast, right?

The milk carton just stares back at me, blank. Mittens meows.

I can’t deny the thrill that runs through me at the thought of spending more time with him. Maybe it’s just a casual thing. No harm in going, right?

“Is it a team event?”

“Sort of,” he says. “It’s my uncle’s store, right? So some of the team will be there to help bring people in. It’s an open house, sweetheart. Easy. Casual.”

Easy. Casual.

Does he want to be “easy” and “casual” with me?

“I don’t know,” I say. “The Harvest Festival is this weekend, and I need to be ready to open.”

“I’ll help you,” he say easily. “I can come all day tomorrow.”

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