by Lynn Rush
And it stole my breath. Not only his looks, but his comfort level on the ice. It rivaled mine how he stood confident and sure, as if he was just walking down the street.
And damn if it didn’t tickle my insides with a delicious tingle of electricity.
“Willow?” Brodie’s voice sliced through my daze.
“Oh yeah. Balance. We’ll see.” I motioned for him to follow my lead to the center of the rink. Heat steamed up from my chest. He’d totally busted me scoping him out.
“I’ll nail any jump you throw my way.”
“You’re going to need a pair of ice skates to jump.” I pointed to his hockey skates, which were at least a size twelve. “Those aren’t going to cut it.”
“Figure skates?” He burst out laughing. “Hard pass.”
“Oh, I’ll get you in a pair of figure skates before tryouts, but I’ll let you stay in those for now.” I motioned to his hockey skates with my eyes. “But first, spirals.” I turned and started skating backward.
Brodie shrugged. “Spirals it is.”
I flipped back around and glided forward. “So, skates have an inside and outside edge. We’re going to start with the inside edge. Take a few strokes forward, put your arms out for balance, lift your left leg up behind you, and try to make a straight line. Watch.”
Picking up speed, I put my arms out to the sides and lifted my left leg. Doing a full arabesque, I reached up and grabbed hold of my blade with my hands. “Ta-da!”
Brodie waved and exhaled. “Easy peasy.”
As I came to a stop several feet in front of him, Brodie pushed off his right skate. He glided forward, but instead of putting his arms out first, he lifted his leg. It only made it about two feet off the ice. Wobbling to the left and then right, his arms shot out, but it was too late. Taking two short strides, he tripped and face-planted into the ice.
I stifled a laugh. “Looks like Mr. Junior Team Captain needs to work on his flexibility and balance.”
Brodie scrambled to his knees. “I’m just getting warmed up.”
He took off, brushing the ice off his chest along the way.
“Arms out, then leg up.” I caught him and skated a few feet to his left.
Brodie extended his arms and then slowly lifted his leg.
“You’re like one of those little propeller planes on a windy day. Keep your arms straight,” I instructed with a giggle.
Straightening his arms, Brodie lifted his leg a little higher. “Start playing me some Celine Dion; I got this!”
“Very nice, but just so you know, no one has skated to one of her songs since like 1990.” I slowed and grabbed his leg, then hoisted it up another few inches. The tight muscle flexed beneath my touch, and a streak of heat shot through my stomach.
“Whoa!” He hopped a few times on his skate to stay upright. “You trying to knock me over?”
“It shouldn’t…if you have balance and good core strength.”
“Ohhh,” he chuckled. “I see how you are. It’s get back at Brodie time for chucking tennis balls at you.”
“Well, you did nail me in the face a couple times.” I laughed. “Use your arms for balance.”
Extending them even farther, he reached out and flexed his fingers.
“Nope, fingers together.” I released his leg, then ran my hands along his arm, up to his shoulder, as I skated beside him.
I was so close, the warmth from his body filtered into mine. Or I was combusting because I was touching him. Strength and confidence radiated from him in tangible waves. It filtered into my body, warming it from the inside out. A sweet, woodsy scent emanated from him as we glided, creating a subtle breeze that shifted his hair, and I had to refrain from leaning in to steal another breath of it. He smelled like he’d just come off the ice after skating the outdoor rink at Jackson’s Pond.
“Like this?” he asked, snapping me out of my thoughts. Holy cow, I needed to focus.
“Shoulders up and chest out.” I tightened my grip on him to guide his movement.
He puffed out his chest and squeezed his fingers together.
“There, you got it! Now you look like an elegant swan,” I said with a cheeky grin as I let him glide away from me.
He was doing it. Maybe more like an ugly duckling, but he’d get there.
Brodie shot me a glance over his shoulder as he continued to move across the ice. “Like I said, easy.”
“Watch out for the boards.”
“Huh?” He snapped his head forward, losing his balance in the process.
He toppled over, landing on the ice with a grunt and bringing his knees into his chest. A few seconds later, his right side smacked into the boards with a crack.
“Shit!” I shouted. The hairs on my neck prickled as a jolt of adrenaline scorched through my body. He’d hit the boards pretty hard. I hadn’t realized he was moving as fast as he was.
I got to him as quickly as my skates would take me and dropped down beside him, out of breath. “Brodie? Brodie, are you okay?”
He remained silent, his eyes closed as I rolled him onto his back. Had he hit his head? We’d taken our helmets off to do this, but that might have been a mistake. My heart hammered so hard, it made my chest ache. I could just see the small town news headlines: “Local figure skater takes star hockey player down with a concussion.”
His lips started to twitch, the corners curving into a smile.
“Brodie?” I kept my hands on his chest, scared to move. Was he smiling? As in—
His eyes flew open, and a grin filled his face.
“You Puck Head!” I punched him in the stomach and fell back onto my butt beside him, my heart clamoring to get out of my chest. He’d scared the shit out of me. I don’t know what I would have done if he’d gotten hurt.
“Gotcha!” He pointed at me.
The amber flecks in his eyes flared to life as his laughter echoed through the empty ice rink. He held his stomach and rested on his back, still laughing. The sound curled around me, and I couldn’t help but smile as a wave of relief washed over me.
“You’re a jerk,” I said, trying to sound mad, even though seeing him roll around the ice, laughing, made it difficult.
I turned over to get up and skate away, but Brodie cuffed my good ankle and gave it a tug. “Takes a lot more than a little fall like that to knock me out of the game. Like Celine says, my heart will go on.”
And then I burst out laughing. “So, this is a game, huh?” While laying on my stomach, I propped my elbows against the ice and rested my chin in my hands.
He held my gaze for a beat or two, not saying a word. But those eyes, they spoke volumes.
The amber flared to life, and his cheeks flushed as his gaze slowly slid over my face. Heat prickled up my neck and pooled in my face as I drank in his attention. Heat and desire replaced the playfulness I’d seen, and it tickled something way deep down.
Back in Colorado, with all the training and competition, we didn’t have much time for guys and dating. Especially hockey players, even though we’d come into contact with them more than other guys thanks to having to share ice time. Everyone on the squad wrote them off as puck heads with no grace. But Brodie, he had that. He was an amazing hockey player, sure, but he had a little finesse in his actions, too.
Not many guys would be secure enough to try learning these moves, especially rough and tough hockey players, but he wasn’t pretentious like that. Even though he easily could be, since he was the hometown star, he was just another guy who loved the ice almost as much as I did.
He was kind, too. Helping me like he was. Giving me hockey equipment and spending all this time with me, and it didn’t seem like he wanted anything in return, other than for me to join the team and help him get his win. But that wasn’t a bad thing. I got the whole needing to win thing.
Kind of made me want to
see what else made Brodie “Wind” Windom tick. Then again, I’d be out of here soon, so it wouldn’t be worth it to start something up, even if he wanted to. But still—
“You good?” Brodie asked.
He was sitting up now, wiping away the tears of laughter. I hadn’t even noticed we’d been lying here for a while. I’d gotten lost in my mind again, thinking about Brodie. Thinking about him a little too much.
“Oh. Ah…yeah.” I sat up.
“Got any more fancy moves to show me?”
My fingers twitched. “Watch this.”
I got up and started skating around the rink. Ice scraped beneath my skates as I picked up the pace. You’ve got this, Willow!
Closing the space between my ankles, I moved my hands in front of me and shifted my weight to the outer edge of my skate. I exhaled and picked up my right knee and pushed upward. As my hands snapped downward, my body flew through the air. My body turned counterclockwise one and a half times before I landed on my left skate, facing the opposite direction.
“Yes!” Adrenaline rushed through my veins and goose bumps shot down across my arms.
“Holy shit! You did it!” Brodie exclaimed from the other end of the ice.
“I can’t believe it.” I raced across the rink, my heart pounding. “I haven’t landed an axel in a year. My Achilles doesn’t even hurt. I mean, it’s a little stiff, but that’s it.”
My hands flew into the air in celebration. I came to a stop just in front of Brodie and did a victory dance.
“Very impressive.” He smiled, but his gaze didn’t meet mine.
“So, you ready to give that a try?”
Brodie’s eyes widened as he looked up at me from the ice. “Uh, yeah, no. I’ll stick with shooting pucks, thank you very much.”
I laughed and took a seat next to him. “I’m just joking. But I do have one more move for you to try. It’s pretty easy, and it will help with your balance.”
“What do you have in mind?” he asked.
“Well, since you’re so comfortable on your butt, let’s try to shoot the duck.” I grinned.
He scrunched up his nose. “Shoot the duck?”
“It’s a weird name, but it’s a pretty easy move. I’ll show you.” I got to my feet and pushed off my right blade and then my left. Once I’d picked up enough speed, I crouched and stuck my right leg out. Balancing, I put my right hand under my calf and my left hand on my knee. After traveling twenty-five feet, I tucked my leg back in and then stood up from the crouched position.
The ice sprayed beneath my blades as I spun around. When I came to a stop, I said, “Let me guess. Easy peasy?”
Brodie got to his feet and shook his arms out. “Totally.”
He raced across the rink, squatting down about halfway.
“Put your right hand under your right calf. Then straighten your right leg out,” I shouted. “Good! You’ve got it! Left hand on your left knee for balance.”
Brodie held the position for about four seconds before the blade on his extended skate caught the ice and sent him flying.
Arms and legs out, he looked as if he was making a snow angel.
He grinned up at me. “Nailed it.”
“Oh yeah, you’re the next Alysa Liu.” I put my hands on my hips.
“Lookit these two,” a voice called from the bleachers.
Snapping my head around, I saw Pax, the sexist one who had stared at my chest during the first pick-up game, standing there. Beside him was a stocky guy with dark hair, long on the top and shaved on the sides. He was laughing and pointing in our direction.
Pax cupped his hands around his mouth. “Brodie, does this mean we need to get you fitted for a skating tutu?”
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Brodie
“Fall League tryouts are in two days, so why are we running bleachers?” Willow said, her shoulders slouching as she approached me on the track.
The early morning sun spilled its colorful rays over her, giving her long black hair a tint of pink. The braids curled over her shoulder and rested on her chest. She was wearing a tight red tank top that dipped low on her chest, giving me a subtle view of her wicked curves. Her black spandex shorts went to her mid-thighs, and each step she took toward me, her toned muscles flexed, demanding my attention.
A flash of heat streaked down my spine at the sight of her making her way to me. She yawned and leaned her head side to side. I heard it cracking even from ten feet away.
“That’s gross,” I said, shaking my head to get myself focused on the task. Training. Training. Training.
“Yeah, well, I’m still waking up. And once again, I ask, what’s up with the not being on the ice two days before Fall League tryouts?”
“Oh, we’ll get there.” I winked. “But first, butterfly.”
She checked behind her and over both her shoulders. “What? Where?”
I laughed. “No, the hockey term, butterfly, what does it mean?”
“That I head to Mexico for the winter while wearing my hockey pads?”
“That is single-handedly the worst answer of all time,” I deadpanned.
“Okay, Hockey Yoda, your ways, teach me. Listen, I will.”
“The movie Force is strong with you, young Padawan, but the definition of butterfly is when a goalie drops to their knees to cover the lower part of the net with their legs.”
Willow tapped the side of her head. “Got it. See, I wasn’t that far off.”
“Mexico, really?”
She laughed, and I joined in until my belly hurt.
I finally stopped long enough to grab my Hydro Flask and take a sip of water.
She held hers up that was looped around her left forefinger and grinned. “Let’s see what you got on yours.”
I took a sip, then showed her my stickers.
“Hockey pucks. Fast and Furious.” Her eyes widened on that one. “Nice. I love me some Fast and Furious.” She grabbed my flask. “What else do you have on here? Wolverines. Of course.” She turned it. “Cabin Coffee?”
“That’s where coffee debts shall be paid.” I laughed and grabbed her flask.
Mostly skating stickers and a couple of Vin Diesel. “Oh wow. Vin…cool.”
“Yeah, well, I’m more than just a frilly figure skater Ice Princess.” She let her small backpack slide off her shoulders and to the grassy sidelines of the track. “So what are we doing here?”
“Not everything can be done on the ice.” I took a few steps back from her, wincing through a subtle soreness in my ass from those weird things she had me doing on the ice the other day. Despite the shit I caught from the guys about it, I’d had fun. Not that I’d ever tell them that, but still. “Let’s loosen up first.”
She grinned, eyeing me as we made our way onto the track. A slight smile curved her lips, and it looked like she knew a secret she couldn’t tell me or something.
“Arm circles first.” I held my arms out to my side. “What are you smirking about?”
She mimicked me as I started a set of arm circles and said, “Moving a little gingerly there, Wind.”
“Nice bruise on your cheek.” I switched arm circle directions.
“Guess we’re even.”
“Hardly. I’m not…that sore.”
She chuckled. “Sure you’re not.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You are one tough chick, Willow Covington.”
“First, I’m not a chick.” She winked. “Second, you bet your ass I am.”
There weren’t many girls who would laugh off getting pegged in the face by tennis balls while training for a sport they hadn’t played in a decade. She’d barely flinched. And here I was, sore from doing a couple figure skating tricks.
I led us through some arm swings, trunk twists, and active stretching, then waved her to follo
w me to the track. “Come on, just a couple laps, then we’re hitting some speed work.”
“It’s a goalie position. Why speed?” She jogged beside me.
“Tryouts are in a couple days, and even though you’re goalie, Coach’ll run you through some drills with cones, weaving in and out, things like that. It’s not so much about making every shot or blocking every shot. It’s about technique and comfort level on the ice.”
“Okay. I get that.”
“You have fast feet from figure skating, but hockey fast feet are a little different.”
“And you’re teaching me fast feet off the ice?” She rolled her eyes and chuckled.
“Exactly.” I picked up the pace for a few strides, and she stayed with me. “See those bleachers?” I pointed ahead to the stands. “They’re going to be your best friend for the next hour.”
“Yikes.”
I chuckled as I picked up the pace again. “To the line there,” I said, then took off sprinting.
“Hey!” she yelled then tore after me.
Pumping my arms, I blew through the imaginary finish line several steps ahead of her.
“No fair. You didn’t give me any warning.”
“Exactly.” I took off running again.
I heard her swear at me, but she chased after me again. She was pretty quick, there was no denying that, but was she fast enough? I needed her on this team. Unless Andrei Vasilevskiy suddenly showed up at tryouts, Willow was our best option.
It was weird to think a figure skater was our best option as a goalie. But hey, talent was talent. She was the shit, and I needed her on this team if I had any chance of taking us to a championship.
“Okay, I get it,” Willow said breathlessly as she caught up to me. “I take it back, you’re wind off the ice, too.”
I laughed as I slowed to a jog. One lap here on the track, then she’d really get tested.
“So how’d you get into hockey?”
“Family thing,” I said, my chest tightening slightly. The pressure to keep up the Windom playing hockey at Boston College tradition was legit. But Willow probably understood pressure as good as anyone might. “My dad and his dad, they played for Boston College.”