Pride and Pancakes

by Ellen Mint

  “Beth,” Tristan shouted from the bedroom. She hadn’t entirely failed to notice his absence, a mug of cheap coffee left cooling on an end table when he vanished. Rising to her legs, she left her editor to scrounge her notes and traced the excited call.

  “You’ll never guess what I found,” he spoke as she eased into the bedroom and spotted him on his hands and knees. He’d crawled his way into the closet, cabin fever quickly taking hold as they both waited for their hour of deliverance.

  Placing a hand to her hip, she waited for him to explain. “I hope the answer isn’t human bones because…”

  “No.” He laughed at her exasperation while rising with a long box in his hands. It looked like it could hold a pair of thigh-high boots, though there were no store or brand names on the cardboard. Odd thing to keep in a cabin, odder to be excited about. Lifting up the lid, he exposed once-ivory leather cracked and fading to yellow atop silver blades.

  Tristan raised the box higher. “Ice skates. Looks like two pairs. There’s some old ski equipment and snowshoes as well.”

  Beth drew her finger along the thin ropey lace, tracing it up to the cracking leather of someone’s ice skate. “In case the newlyweds grow bored with sex and need something else to occupy their time?”

  Her voice remained flippant, but when the word ‘sex’ slipped past her lips, a light blush rose over Tristan’s cheeks and amplified on hers. Clicking her teeth as a distraction from the heat riding up her body, she asked, “What about the…?” Quickly, the pieces fell into place, his face as excited as a puppy’s. “You know how to ice skate.”

  “I haven’t in years, but…” That charming, surprising smile knotted up his lips. “And you don’t know how.”

  “Where have I heard this song before?” she snickered even while picking at the skates.

  “The bigger ones are a size eleven. Tight fit but I can manage,” he said offhand, as if that wasn’t also a way to slip her his shoe size. Her traitorous gaze darted down his legs to the feet in wool socks. She’d never noticed their grand size before and… He was staring.

  “I wear a size seven,” she sputtered, uncertain what to say.

  “Perfect! Okay, these are a seven and a half, maybe eight.” He studied the skate the way a jeweler would a diamond and a sinking feeling dropped into Beth’s gut.

  Tristan Harty wanted her to ice skate with him. She would have to stumble on knives in circles across an iced-over lake while this man of the north watched. Well, that’d be one way to kill this strange tension dead. By the fifth time she fell on her face, he’d want nothing to do with her.

  “I can’t really—”

  “I’ll teach you,” he said fast, interrupting her half-hearted objection. “Unlike with the guitar, I’m not anything special on skates. But I thought, to while away the last hours we had together, it might be nice to…”

  To slide around the ice, hand in hand, his body leading hers in a frozen dance.

  You’re grinning like a brain-dead imbecile.

  “Okay,” she said, trying to shake off the rising blush over her back and chest. “Sure, let’s…let’s try ice skating.”

  That damn smile was growing more infectious with each appearance. The strength of it nearly banished her rising trepidation as he knotted the skates together and dropped the smaller pair over her shoulder. His fingers curled around her back, the tips dancing up her spine.

  “I’ll, uh…” The unflappable Tristan Harty darted away. “I’ll get my coat.”

  Beth Cho, you’re going to return home with a broken arm.

  Yeah, but at least it’ll be a story to tell.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Help!” Beth gasped, her entire leg sinking into the ravenous snow bank. The once biting mountainous air lifted to a breezy temperature skirting just below freezing. It had allowed them easy passage from the cabin to a lake Tristan supposedly knew of. Mostly easy passage. He, with his lanky frame, found it straightforward to plow through the drifts while she discovered the snow waiting to snatch at her ankle and pull her under.

  A laugh escaped from her panic, the ice skates’ sharp blades bouncing against the back and chest of her coat as she continued to sink. At the rate she was going down, her only hope might be to try to swim out of the snow. Snapping through the air, a hand grabbed her wrist.

  The strong fingers slid up, enveloping her palm, as Tristan helped to right her from the dangerous quick-snow. With almost no effort, he plucked her up to her feet on solid ground. Beth struggled to catch up, her boots skidding on the powder until she nearly smacked into him.

  Eyes brighter than the snow twinkled down at her, the evident concern taking her breath away. “Are you all right?” His body rested not even a hand’s breadth away, their skates practically knocking into each other. While the wind whirled around them, Beth felt the warmth radiating off his chest.

  She snorted, leaning back to try to pull in a cooling breath of common sense. But their fingers remained entwined even as she did. “Assuming I don’t fall into a five-foot hole, I should be okay.”

  Tristan smiled shyly, his cheeks lighting up bright pink from the cold as he dipped his chin low. Peeking that bright blue through his lashes, he said, “Noted. I suppose if the worst comes to it, you could always ride on my shoulders.”

  “Well, if you’re taking requests,” Beth spoke as they resumed their walk to the lake. She could see it now, a vast gray-blue clearing between the white snow and browns of the trees. “If given the option, I’d much rather be carried.”

  A choking noise caused her to look back. Tristan froze, his long stride stretched nearly to the breaking point as his wind-burnt cheeks turned tomato red. What was he…? Oh!

  Shit, she didn’t mean like… She’d been thinking of those litters and old queens and, and…

  Slowly, the shocked man’s lips softened and the edge twisted up into a smirk. “I will remember that,” Tristan whispered.

  Shivering, Beth swallowed deeply, as the chill of winter must have made it through her coat. That has to be it. Together they headed to the lake’s edge, both staring around at anything but the other. The only warmth in her body was from the rising tension between them, and yet their fingers remained entwined.

  The glorified pond wasn’t very wide—she could easily see both ends and wave to the trees on the other side if she wished. But that didn’t slow Tristan as he approached where sturdy snow became slippery ice. He dropped her hand and swung the skates off his shoulder. Beth moved to follow even while gritting her teeth.

  “Hm.” Tristan slid onto the patch of scuffed ice and gave a quick knock with his heel. Despite her teeth clenching for fear of his falling or the ice shattering, he remained perfectly fine. “Seems thick enough. Shall we?”

  “This is your rodeo, cowboy,” Beth said. The tips of her shoes caught on the edge of the ice while her heels remained firmly on ground territory. In general, she wasn’t clumsy, but walking out onto ice willingly felt like cursing the fates to their faces.

  “Did you know the studio tried to get me to put out a country album once?” Tristan asked while unbuttoning his coat. Is that a part of ice skating?

  He laid it out on the ice and sat on the down-stuffed nylon. Once he’d kicked off his shoes, he carefully slid his feet—which she couldn’t help but notice were well-sized—into the skates. “I wasn’t opposed to the idea of branching out to a new sound, but this was the start of the era of trucks and bro-country. Sadly, I didn’t have much to add to the experience and had to bow out.”

  As he moved to the second skate, Beth finally risked sliding out beside him. Sitting wasn’t easy, her ass crashing to the ice. She’d swear she heard a crack, but Tristan didn’t react. Her brain was imagining things to excuse her panicking heart. With trepidation, she untied the skates and got to work switching them out.

  Tristan finished his work and placed both blades onto the ice. Like a pro, he shoved himself up off the ground. Knees bent, he slid across the still pond,
his body rising to its full height as if he’d done it a thousand times before.

  There was no way in hell she could do that.

  Heat swarmed across her cheeks, the embarrassment trying to take physical form in her body. Forget falling while skating, she was going to trip and chip a tooth just getting to her feet. The man who’d birthed this entire idea didn’t skate off down the pond. No, he remained nearby, spinning around to watch her.

  You’re in it now.

  Resigned to her fate of playing the fool, Beth cinched the skates. They were loose in the toe area, but did that really matter? It wasn’t as if she was going to be doing anything interesting. Or skating. It was highly unlikely she’d even be standing.

  “How are you doing?”

  “Good, good,” Beth muttered to herself. “I can tie shoelaces, at least.” With a resigned sigh, she placed both bladed feet before her, knees bent the way Tristan had. And that was as far as Beth could get.

  A gentle laugh broke above her and a cool shadow drifted to blot out the sun. She stared up at a pair of hands extended to her. “Let me help,” he said. Beth quickly took both in her grip. Like docking a boat, his body slid closer until the tips of his skates bounced into hers.

  “Okay.” Tristan wafted their grip through the air as if he was counting. “Are you ready?”

  Do I have a choice?

  “Yes,” she said. Her body sprang from the ground, Tristan easily yanking her against gravity. Beth shrieked in surprise, her knees straining as they suddenly had to take all of her.

  “Stand up, come on, just like…” He kept instructing, his hands never leaving hers even as the floundering danger lurched toward him. “There you go.”

  She was standing, she had her legs straight and she was on ice skates. Tristan beamed at her and their locked hands both extended high to allow her body to bounce into his. She didn’t slide away when it happened. There was nearly no momentum to allow it. Instead, they paused in the middle of the pond, their chests glancing against each other with every breath, their faces barely a kiss apart.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Beth’s ankle slid, trying to take her and Tristan down. But he held firm, a hand locking to her hip to calm her flailing limbs. As the panic ebbed and she didn’t go splat on her ass, she stared into the face of the man with his palm over her hip, pressing his fingers into her waist.

  Tristan swallowed, his sight rolling far to find anywhere but her face stuck beside his. “It’s like rollerblading. One foot glides, then the other.” He dropped his hand from her hip, picking up speed backward as he held both of her hands.

  “You presume I know how to rollerblade, or skate, or anything else for that matter.” Beth gulped even while willing her foot to switch from her usual heel-to-toe walking to the preferable option. Her steps on the ice were erratic and fast, an allegro tempo to his adagio. But even with a flailing charlatan in his grip, Tristan didn’t bat an eye.

  The presumptive man who she’d assumed had no time to suffer fools slowed to match her serious learning curve. Gently, he tugged her around the pond, not seeming to be bothered that he couldn’t see behind him.

  “For not knowing how to skate, you’re picking this up quickly,” he said, cresting her into a turn Beth was not ready for.

  She didn’t slam her eyelids shut, but it was a fight not to until she was safely on the straightaway once again. “You, sir, are a terrible liar,” Beth gasped.

  A laugh rumbled in his chest, Tristan smiling as if it were a compliment. “Would you prefer I be an excellent one?”

  “No.” She shook her head, surprised to find she cared about such a trait in him. “No, I would not.”

  “Good. Now, how about I let you on your own?”

  Launching her panicking hands, Beth gripped his wrists for dear life. “Don’t you dare!”

  “I won’t go far, trust me.”

  God save her, but staring into those sparkling blue eyes and patient smile, she did. Still, the fear of a cracked coccyx was hard to overcome. Biting into her lip, Beth nodded while trying to unhinge her vise grip on him. It took a while, Tristan still skating backward while waiting until he was finally free.

  She expected him to flip around and dash off on his own racing adventure, but he skated closer to her. A breath caught in her throat, her hands dangling limply down. What was he doing heading for her? Was he going to push her along? Wrap a hand around her waist?

  Kiss me?

  Slowly, she pivoted her head to follow Tristan skating behind her. He glanced one hand over her shoulder as if he needed her to keep him in place. “Here, this way we can both see where we’re going,” he said. He rested his left hand upon her hip, the fingers chastely touching nothing more scandalous than her coat. Why was she disappointed at that?

  “Give me your hand,” he instructed and Beth extended her right. Quickly, he took it, calming the panic in her blood. At least if she went down this time, she’d take him with her. Which maybe wasn’t such a good thing after all. Who would get him up?

  “We’ll start with the left foot first. Glide it out. Imagine yourself in your socks sliding over the kitchen floor.” His warm breath tickled her ear, the hand on her waist gripping tighter as Beth slid her foot out. The pair of them moved as one, Tristan asking for the next foot.

  After a kick of the right sent them farther on, brightness rose in her chest. “I’m doing it, I’m actually skating,” she cried in shock. They weren’t moving quickly, but it was real gliding with a gentle breeze glancing over her cheeks.

  “Indeed you are,” Tristan said. His warm words swaddled her ear, reminding her how close he was. How he was cupping her hip, pressing his fingers into her lower abdomen to keep her safe. How there was a body of no-doubt sinewy muscle directly behind her. Okay, so her coat was in the way and he was wearing a shirt and sweater, but…

  “What do you think of this?” The voice sang through her, the words carrying back on their skate-induced breeze.

  Beth pulled in a breath, her heart beating faster even as they sailed over the silent pond at a walking speed. Rolling her fingers to grip back onto his, she said, “It’s exhilarating.”

  As Beth glided to the edge of the pond, a dusting of snowflakes began to fall. She glanced up at the muddled clouds bringing more of the light powder to cover the world, but only for a moment. Once freed of his helpless passenger, Tristan took command of the ice.

  Long, lean legs effortlessly switched, one to the other. Blades sliced apart the icy top layer, sending Tristan’s tight body faster and faster in concentric loops. He kept his hands tucked behind the small of his back, his face leaning forward to compensate for the center of gravity. It reminded her of old professors too vain to admit they needed glasses.

  “Can you do a flip?” Beth called to the man flying across the pond.

  “Flip?” He didn’t cease his looping, but he raised up from the partial lean. Even at the distance of half the pond, even with the shadows of the clouds passing overhead, the luminescent blue of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine.

  “You know, that spin thing that ice skaters do,” she mumbled. It’d begun as a joke, but as he kept his raptor-like gaze upon her, her insides churned. And it had nothing to do with the strength of the calves and thighs propelling him over the ice. Not at all.

  Tristan resumed staring at where he was going instead of her even as he addressed her. “An axel? That seems unwise. I have been out of practice for many years.”

  Oh, well. Beth shrugged as if she didn’t care to watch the ex-teenage heartthrob now all grown up launch his taut body into the air. Despite the cool air circling them, Tristan left his coat upon the ground. She wondered if he was cold, the tinge of pink upon his cheeks and forehead a warning sign. But there was a comfortable ease across his brow, his lips fully slackened from their hard purse.

  It was intoxicating, enthralling to watch a man know his body from the tips of his toes up to the ears. She wanted to say his moves, simple as they might be, wer
e graceful, but that wasn’t accurate. They weren’t forceful either. It wasn’t as if Tristan was trying to beat the ice into surrender. No, he skated as if he knew where he needed to be and knew he could get there.

  Confidence. Warm, oddly comforting and intriguing confidence.

  Beth licked her lips. A thought struck her and she fished out her phone. Twisting it to landscape mode, she hit the Record button. On the thin screen in her hands was a tiny flat version of Tristan Harty. When she glanced down at it, it reminded her of those little village models for Christmas with the figurines on magnets to skate across a mirrored lake.

  But when she looked up, when the light the phone couldn’t catch lanced against his chestnut hair, reviving the copper highlights, her heart caught. The figurine on the phone moved with technical prowess while the man before her exuded a serenity that reached down into her soul. Is this what it was like to attend one of his concerts? She’d looked at old footage online but had thought little of it. The difference between the screen and the person was spellbinding.

  Stopping the recording, she dropped her phone into her pocket. The footage wouldn’t be useful for an article. It was doubtful anyone would even care. She wanted it for herself, a tiny memento of the man she’d got to spend a weekend with.

  Had to.

  Tristan skated closer to her. “Do you want to try again?”

  “I’m not certain if that’s wise,” Beth admitted. She’d lucked out surviving before without humiliating herself. Giving it another go seemed like asking for it.

  Tristan extended his hands, palms up, for her to hold them. “I’ll hold you.”

  His hands holding hers. No, her hips. Hers clinging to his shoulders as the pair of them skated in an intimate dance, Beth lost in those endless cobalt fields as he bumped the tip of his skates into hers. His tempting lips drifting closer and closer, igniting a spark between him and her.

  God! Beth threw a hand up to her cheeks, embarrassed at her imagination going off track so fast. If she’d been on solid ground, it wouldn’t have mattered how quickly she moved, but the burning shame threw off her common sense. As she flew her hand up to her face, her entire center of gravity tipped backward, taking her down with it.