Page 5 of Love on Thin Ice

I put one hand against his chest as his hand snakes along that belt I’ve put on. Part of me wants to ask if he means it, and the other part of me sees the hungry look in his eyes. So I say, “Thank you,” as he leans in closer now that I’ve impeded his forward progress.

“Smell amazing,” he murmurs. “Maybe I don’t want to take you out in public tonight.”

“You agreed to my demands,” I say, every cell in my body trembling. “And I agreed to yours.”

He pulls back, that smile on his face that surely he knows is my complete undoing. “Ready, then?”

I nod, smiling nervously. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

We drive to the sporting goods store, making easy conversation along the way. Jack’s hand rests casually on the center console, and after a few minutes, he reaches over and takes mine. His fingers are warm and strong, and I can’t help the little flutter in my chest.

The whole day was like this—easy and fun, with plenty of work getting done and plenty of chatter happening too.

When we arrive, the store is already buzzing with people—teammates, fans, and locals all mingling together. I stick close to Jack, because I’ve only been in Blue Ridge for a couple of months, and most of that time has been spent with my cat or at my store, getting things ready.

Finally, he says, “There he is. Liam.” And a tall, broad-shouldered man turns from his conversation.

Jack releases my hand and steps into his best friend and teammate to man-clap-hug him. Then they both face me. “This is Liam O’Brien,” he says. “He’s my best friend and our starting goalkeeper.”

“Nice to meet you, Poppy,” Liam says, his dark hazel eyes twinkling. “Jack’s been talking about you nonstop.”

I glance at Jack, who’s suddenly looking a little sheepish. “Has he now?”

Liam chuckles, clapping Jack on the back. “Oh yeah. You’ve made quite the impression.”

I blush, feeling a little overwhelmed by the attention. But Jack moves back to my side, doesn’t deny he’s been talkingabout me, and takes my hand again. He gives me a reassuring smile, and suddenly, the world, and Blue Ridge, and meeting his teammates—it all feels a little less intimidating.

Maybe Mia was wrong. Maybe this thing with Jack could be something real.

3

I’ve officially entereda parallel universe.

That’s the only explanation I can come up with as I watch superstar Jack Winters struggle to untangle a string of fairy lights from around a mannequin’s neck in my boutique. His brow is furrowed in concentration, his tongue poking out slightly at the corner of his mouth. It’s adorable, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud.

“Do you need help with that?” I ask, pushing aside a rack of dresses as I step toward him.

“Nope,” he says, his voice determined. “I’ve got this.” He tugs at the lights, and the mannequin wobbles dangerously. “Okay, maybe I don’t got this.”

I giggle, unable to help myself, and Jack shoots me a playful glare. “Go ahead, laugh it up. I’d like to see you try to skate backward at thirty miles an hour.”

I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms as I lean against the counter. “Last time I checked, we weren’t hosting the Winter Olympics in my boutique. You’re in my world now, Jack.”

He grins, finally freeing the lights and holding them up triumphantly. “Your world, huh?” He steps closer, the lightsdangling from his fingers as his ice-blue eyes lock on mine. “I think I could get used to that.”

My heart does a little somersault in my chest, and I suddenly feel like I’ve forgotten how to breathe. The way he’s looking at me—like I’m the only thing in the room worth paying attention to—makes my pulse race and my knees wobble.

“Is that so?” I manage to say, my voice a little breathless.

Jack steps even closer, closing the distance between us, until I can feel the heat radiating off him. His smile is gone now, replaced by something darker, more intense. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice low. “Idefinitelycould.”

I swallow hard, feeling the air between us crackle with tension. He’s always entering my personal space, taking the room he wants there.

Now, his gaze flickers to my lips, the way his hand brushes lightly against my arm. I can’t help it, and my tongue darts out to wet my lips, practically begging him to kiss me.

But then, like a reflex, the insecurities I’ve spent years trying to bury bubble up to the surface.

I take a step back, wrapping my arms around myself. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

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