Page 4 of Peach Blossom Hollow

To his surprise, Violet let out a laugh that filled the room.

“These are attached,” she said, looking over her shoulder and waggling her enormous clawed, green-and-black paws. “Please free me.”

He pulled the zipper tab down to her hips, holding the costume closed at the neckline with his other hand for modesty’s sake. “How did you get into this thing?”

She turned to face him, and he released his grip. “Magic.”

“I’ll say.” The neck was so tight she couldn’t have wriggled her way in. She must have had someone zip her up. “When will they find you some help?”

She shrugged, meeting his gaze briefly. Her face was turning red, and he could see shyness zipping her up like a reverse of the costume he’d just freed her from. Leo didn’t want her clamming up again. He wanted to know more about this reserved, slightly sassy woman who’d crashed into him.

“Do you like the job?” he asked.

“It’s fun,” she admitted, her eyes lighting up.

“And?”

“Exhausting.”

“Yeah?”

“I had no idea I could sweat so much.”

He smiled. A full sentence. Itwaspossible.

And they said nice guys finish last.

“It looks like you worked hard,” he said, gesturing to her damp hair.

The big dragon paws swept to her straight black hair, and she ducked as though trying to hide.

“You’re how I look when I get off the ice,” he said with a chuckle. “The things we do for hockey, huh?”

She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug.

“If you’d asked me when I was sixteen if this is where I was going to end up…”

She laughed again, the sound light this time, carefree, then looked confused. “You didn’t always want the NHL?”

“Most hockey players have worked toward this forever. I’ve taken a few detours.”

She nodded, watching him with unreadable eyes before reaching for the pink water bottle on the bench with her padded hands—knocking it over. She gave a resigned shrug, sending the costume slipping from her shoulders like a curtain dropping, revealing her petite body. She was wearing a pink tank top and tight, stretchy black shorts.

With the costume bunched around her ankles, her hands now free, she reached for the water bottle, tipped her head back and took several long, unladylike gulps.

After a final swallow, she glanced at him again with those intriguing, almost-black eyes.

“Sorry,” he said, stepping back toward the door. “I should let you do your thing.” He stopped,thinking about how dangerous it was for her to run around in the costume without a guide. She needed somebody. Soon. And someone who would take good care of her. Not a random stranger.

“They seriously let you out there without a handler?”

“I was impatient to learn the ropes.”

He paused, mulling over the fact that she’d spoken another full sentence—a win for him.

Leo’s sense of duty was rearing up in him. Was it because she was shy, or petite, or that she had tumbled into him that he felt the need to look out for her?

If she fell in here, alone, who knew how long she’d roll around, unable to get up, helpless as she waited for someone to find her?

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