Page 8 of Love on Thin Ice

Here to watch Jack.

But also here in Blue Ridge.

“My boutique,” I whisper to myself, and it’s the reminder I need not to lose myself to the heat that can come from a thin sheet of ice.

5

I’melbow-deep in fabric swatches, pretending like I’m completely absorbed in choosing the perfect shade of burgundy for one of the holiday dresses I’m designing. “Maybe I could get some silver thread sewn in,” I say to my office.

I shouldn’t even be working on holiday designs. My store opens in one day, with the Heritage Festival tomorrow too. Everything has to be staged by ten a.m., as the fashion show is at ten-thirty, and I’ll be back here, throwing open the doors, and hopefully welcoming hundreds of customers, by one o’clock.

The truth is, I can’t focus on anything. Not the Harvest Festival, not my boutique, not even the fact that my dream is finally about to come true.

All I can think about is Jack.

His smile. His laugh. The way he looked at me like I was the only person in the world the first time we met. The stroke of his mouth against mine.

I sigh, wishing I could just forget the conversation I overheard at the hockey practice earlier. I wish I didn’t care about his past. But those women’s voices keep echoing in myhead, and no amount of holiday prints or vanilla mocha candles can drown them out.

Once a player, always a player.

I glance down, where my bedazzled Jack Winters jersey is crumpled in the bottom drawer. I stuffed it there as soon as I returned from the arena, like hiding it would somehow make all of this easier. Like pretending I don’t care about him will protect me from getting hurt.

The bell above the shop door jingles, and I’ve really got to start locking that when I’m not open. My heart immediately jumps into my throat, because only one person would come here right now.

I can feel Jack’s presence behind me before he even says a word.

“Poppy?” Jack’s voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it, like he knows something’s wrong. “Why’d you leave the practice early?”

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I knew this conversation was coming, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I turn around slowly, keeping my arms crossed over my chest like a shield, and don’t rise from my desk chair.

“Sorry,” I say, my voice tight. “I just—I had things to do here. The festival’s tomorrow, and there’s still a lot to get ready.”

He frowns, stepping closer, his blue eyes searching mine. “I thought we were going to dinner.”

The vulnerability in his voice makes my chest ache. But I can’t let myself fall for it. Not when there’s so much at stake.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say, my words coming out sharper than I intended. “I think maybe we got moving too fast.”

Jack blinks, clearly taken aback. “Too fast? I thought things were going great.”

“They are,” I say quickly, and then I correct myself. “No, theywere.”

He takes another step toward me, his expression confused and hurt. “Poppy, what’s going on?”

I look away from him before I lose my resolve. “It’s just…I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?” His voice softens, and he reaches out to touch my arm, but I pull away before he can. He growls in frustration, and it only reminds me of the sound he made while kissing me.

I swallow hard, hating the way his eyes darken with frustration now. I don’t want to be the girl who pushes people away. I don’t want to be the girl who lets her insecurities ruin something good. But I can’t help it. I’ve been there before, and I don’t want to go back.

“Jack, I’m not like the other women you’ve been with,” I say, my voice trembling.

“I thought we talked about this already,” he says. “I don’t want the other women I’ve dated.”

“I’m not just some fling.” I raise my chin and look directly at him. “And I don’t want to be another name on your list.”

His eyes flash with shock, and for a moment, he just stares at me like he can’t believe what I’ve said.

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