Page 64 of Lucky Shot
I told her to wear socks, but the little, flimsy things she had were going to give her blisters, so Ron pulled out a pair of socks for her too. They’re way too big and come up over her knees. Maybe it isn’t fashionable but it’s doing something for me. Really,reallydoing something for me.
“Also, this dress was the worst possible option in my suitcase. If I go down, you’re going to see my underwear.”
I press my lips together to keep from smiling. “I promise not to look.”
“Joke’s on you because they’re my full-coverage, comfy undies. Not cute, like at all.”
A disbelieving huff leaves my lips. “I doubt that very much.”
Her blue eyes finally lift to mine. “Seriously. Picture the ugliest undergarments you can imagine.”
Instead, an image of her in that red bikini last night flits into my mind. I skate backward while she’s focused on me instead of falling. “I’m struggling to believe anything looks that bad on you.”
“Because you think I’m beautiful?” One brow quirks up as she repeats my words.
Oops. I hadn’t meant to say it last night, but I was proving a point. I can’t tell if the look she gives me now is because she thinks I’m full of shit or if she thinks I’m a creep.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hit on you.”
Now she laughs. Probably at my expense, but it doesn’t matter because the truth is no matter how beautiful she is, getting involved with her is a terrible idea. She’s here for a short time and staying next door. No matter how attractive or fun she is, I’m not looking for anything messy or complicated.
Not that she even wants to. She’s more likely to hook up with Travis or D-Low. My jaw tightens at the thought.
“Why are you back to glowering at me?” she asks, breaking me from my thoughts.
“Was I?”
She nods.
I force the unease away. What the hell do I care who she hooks up with? This is a business arrangement, plain and simple. Her being the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen is irrelevant.
It’s my turn to look away from her. “I didn’t want you to feel left out, with all the glaring you’ve been doing at me.”
“I have not!” She squeaks out the denial, then laughs. “Okay, fine, maybe I was.”
I flick my gaze back to her. “Maybe?”
She smiles at me, that big, sunshine smile that feels much more natural for her. “I guess we swapped places today. You’re less grumpy in skates.”
That’s probably true. On the ice everything feels a lot simpler.
“Grumpy doesn’t suit you, Red. Besides, you did it.”
Her grip on me has loosened but when I come to a stop, her fingers tighten on my arm. She glances around as if to verify that we’ve gone around the rink. Her lips part and then slowly pull into a huge grin.
I like her spunk and determination and how quickly she slips back into her happy and carefree demeanor. When was the last time I felt like that?
“Oh my gosh! I did it. I skated around the rink!” She bounces in place, which has her feet sliding on the ice. Her legs go out from under her, and she careens backward, arms flailing.
My arm slides around her waist, catching her before she bounces off the ice. Her fingers find purchase on my forearm again and she holds on with a death grip.
My heart hammers in my chest at the thought of her hitting her head. I should have insisted she wear a helmet. She’d scowled when I suggested it, but now I’m thinking I should have made her anyway.
“You good?” My voice comes out hoarse.
Her eyes are squeezed tight like she was bracing for impact but at my question she squints them both to look at me. “Am I dead?”
The tightness in my chest eases. “No, not dead.”
