Page 45 of Playing to Win

Chapter 16

brooks

The first thought I have is, So she did come here trying to catch me. The second thought is, Wow. Drew and Kit stop alongside me and we watch Izzy skate. She flies around the rink, fearlessly, like a fine sports car, smooth and wild all at once, magnificent.

We watch her move into the middle of the rink, and as the music builds to a crescendo, so does she. She starts to spin, and then her leg is up toward the back of her head, her back bowed. All I can do is watch in awe.

“Tell me this is the woman who is driving you half-insane,” Kit says.

I can’t take my eyes off Izzy. I’m fixated, like a child seeing something enchanting, magical, for the first time.

“’Cause all I can think is, are you in-freaking-sane for not wanting to tear this woman’s clothes off?”

I wrench my eyes away from Izzy just long enough to glower at Kit, then turn back to the scene in front of me. She stops twirling and bends over her knees, giggling. She looks happy. Truly happy. Exquisite.

Her laughter stops in an instant when all eleven of the guys I’m with start to clap and whistle. I can only concentrate on stopping my heart from pounding right out of my chest.

Izzy starts to skate toward the exit of the rink, and the guys sit on benches to suit up. Drew is last to move. He drops a hand on my shoulder. “You like her.”

“Nah, she’s just another Alice. A rich girl messing with a poor kid’s head.”

“Except you’re not that kid anymore. From where I’m standing, you’re in big trouble, Adams. Big trouble.”

“I’m starting to worry about that.”

I hardly feel my legs as they move me, mindlessly, toward her.

She steps off the ice, the change in momentum bringing her closer to me than she probably intended. “So, you changed the rink time to fool me.”

Up until this moment, I had completely forgotten about that. “So, you tried to catch me cheating. I may not have a degree in English literature from Cambridge, and I may not have come from much, but I’m not stupid. Look how your master plan backfired, Coulthard. Now I’m the one with you on camera not sticking to my rules.”

She swallows so hard I see it in her throat. “I don’t think you’re stupid. And how do you even know I have a degree in English literature?”

“I read the bio on your blog.”

“Whatever. What are you going to do with the pictures?”

Since I have no actual pictures because I was too busy gawking, I’m not doing much. But she doesn’t need to know that. “I want to run.”

“Excuse me?”

“I want to run, in place of two dance sessions a week, or in addition to them. And I want to do light weights.”

She plants her hands on her hips and stares at me. I can almost see her cogs whirring. “Two runs, no longer than an hour, and toning, with your own body weight.”

“Fine.”

“And you’ll call a truce on the skating?”

“You also have to let me play hockey.”

“Fine.”

“And I want protein. Something lean. Chicken will do.”

“No. I draw the line at running, toning, and hockey.”

It was worth a try. “Fine. Agreed.”

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