Page 6 of Love on Thin Ice

Jack’s brow furrows, his expression softening. “What do you mean?” He doesn’t give me any space at all, and one thing I’ve learned about Jack is how physical he is.

I hesitate, the words sticking in my throat. How do I explain the years of self-doubt, the constant pressure to look a certain way, to be a certain size? How do I tell him that I’ve never felt like I was enough for someone like him—for anyone, really?

“I’m just…I’m not like the other women you’ve been with,” I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Jack’s eyes soften, and he shuffles his feet forward, pressing against me now, his hands gentle as they cup my face. “You’reright,” he says, his voice rough but tender. “You’re not like them. You’re better.”

My breath catches in my throat as he leans in, his lips brushing against mine in the softest, sweetest kiss. It’s like the world stops spinning, like everything else fades away, and all that matters is the way his mouth feels on mine.

But then the kiss deepens, and suddenly, it’s not soft or sweet anymore. It’s hungry, desperate, like he’s been waiting for this moment as long as I have. His hands slide down to my waist, pulling me closer, and I melt into him, all my reservations flying out the window.

My fingers tangle in his hair, and I can feel the heat of his body pressing against mine, the hard lines of his muscles beneath his shirt. I’ve never been kissed like this before—like I’m the only thing he needs, like he’s starving for me and only me.

I’m just about ready to let this kiss turn into something more when Jack’s phone buzzes in his pocket, breaking the spell. He pulls back, breathless, and presses his forehead to mine. I’m just trying to breathe without sounding like I’ve been running from zombies.

“I’ll ignore it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against mine again.

I laugh softly, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “What if it’s important?”

“It’s not,” he says, but his phone buzzes again, and he sighs, reluctantly pulling away to check the screen. He swears and says, “It’s Liam.” His brow furrows as his thumb hovers over his phone. “I have to take it.”

I’m still trying to catch my breath, so I nod as he steps away. “What?” He turns his back on me as he talks to his friend, and I look around the shop like I’ve been transported to another planet.

“I saidall right.” Jack paces toward me again. “I’ll see you in two minutes, outside the boutique.” He hangs up and shoves his phone in his back pocket. “I have to go, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” I say as he envelops me in that Jack-Winters-Wonderland scent and holds me against his chest.

“We’ve got practice this afternoon.” He peers down at me, his blue eyes blazing. “I can get you in to the last hour on a special guest pass.” His eyebrows go up, silently asking me if I want that.

“Yeah, okay,” I say. “I’ve never watched a hockey practice before.”

“Coach opens them up at the end,” he says. “In the off-season, at least.”

“At the arena?”

“Yes, baby.” He grins, leans in, and captures my mouth with his again. He kisses me until an insistent horn honks from the direction of the curb. He pulls away then. “Mm.”

He presses his lips together as if tasting me there—and enjoying it—and says, “I’ll be back tomorrow to help with the rest of the show prep.”

I’m so drunk on him, I don’t respond as he strides toward the front door. The little bell chimes, and that somehow wakes me up. I blink and watch him climb in the back of a pitch-black SUV.

“Mm,” I say too, mimicking him. I straighten from the wall where he kissed me so completely, suddenly needing to find the exact right thing to wear to the last hour of a hockey practice.

4

I’ve never beento a hockey practice before, and I have to admit, it’s kind of intense.

The arena buzzes with energy, even though it’s just a practice session. The sound of skates slicing across the ice, the sharp crack of sticks hitting pucks, the loud yells of voices calling out plays—it’s all so foreign to me, but strangely exhilarating.

I’m sitting in the nearly empty stands, clutching the edge of my seat, my heart racing as I watch Jack glide across the ice like he was born there.

And, okay, maybe I’ve gone a little overboard with my outfit.

I mean, I’m not exactly a sports jersey kind of girl, but I couldn’t resist getting creative. I took one of the standard Blue Ridge Buffaloes jerseys—Jack’s jersey, obviously, with the number nine proudly on the back and that cute little C on the front left—and gave it the Poppy treatment.

A few strategic cuts, some sequins, and a cute belt later, and I’m feeling like I’ve turned it into something that’s totally me while still supporting Jack. I’ve paired his blinged out jersey with skinny jeans and my favorite ankle boots.

I’m not sure what Jack will think of it, but when he skates by and spots me, his eyes light up like a Christmas tree, and my heart does a little flip.

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