On Thin Ice

by Bernadette Marie

  This was what Malory had missed in California. Community. Family. Belonging.

  She’d watched the game for ten minutes before she noticed Christopher watching her from the team bench. A smile formed on his lips and he gave her a wave. She held up the keys, and he nodded toward the end of the rink.

  Malory nodded and stepped down from her seat with the parents and headed to the edge of the rink just as the last buzzer of the game sounded.

  “Team bench? What are you, the coach now?”

  He smiled broadly. “Coach Chris.” He nodded at the keys in her hand. “Are you the messenger?”

  “I guess I am.” She dropped the keys into his palm.

  “You didn’t have to bring these all the way down.”

  She shrugged. “It wasn’t a problem.”

  “Just in time too,” he said as the players began to exit the ice.

  “Well, I’ll let you get to cleaning ice.” She turned to leave.

  “Wil.” He grabbed her arm and gently turned her back to him. “Ride with me.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.”

  “C’mon. I’ll bet it’s been a long time since you rode.” He dipped his head down so that his eyes looked at her from behind the shield of dark, long lashes.

  Malory swallowed hard. “If I remember correctly there’s very little room in that seat.”

  “I don’t see a problem.” His lips curled into a sexy smile.

  She felt the lump in her throat, but she couldn’t help nodding. If she was looking to remember good times, riding out on the ice on the enormous machine was one of those times. And she had told Maggie she’d try to be friends with the man who stood before her grinning.

  Maggie had been right. This was where they were friends, and if they were both back here, why couldn’t they be friends again? After all, her divorce had been final for a long time and any attempts at a relationship after that had failed. It would be nice to have a friend again, and one who looked at her like Christopher did couldn’t hurt.

  Christopher guided the huge machine slowly over the ice, and Malory sat uncomfortably on his lap. The heat of his breath on her neck was making it hard to breathe and she was fully aware that while she guided the machine over the ice the only place for him to rest his hands was on the sides of her thighs.

  She’d work the levers when he instructed and steered until they came to the turns, then he would reach his arms around her, pressing himself tightly to her, and steer the machine back down the ice.

  They laughed about the many times they had driven over the ice, making different patterns and nearly driving the thing through the wall once—that alone was priceless. Perhaps, she thought, as he pulled the machine off the ice, they could still be friends.

  He was watching her as she climbed down and he followed.

  “We still make a good team.”

  “Sure. But I think my ass was much smaller fifteen years ago.”

  “I like your ass just fine.”

  Malory reminded herself to breathe. “I’d better get going.”

  “C’mon, look at that ice. You know what it wants us to do, don’t you?” He gave her a nod and a stunning and playful grin. “We have to tear it up. It’s like its whispering to us.” He was laughing.

  “I’ll talk to you later.” She turned, but he caught her arm again.

  “He keeps your skates in his office.”

  “On a hook under my picture. I know. Good night, Chris.”

  “Wil, c’mon.”

  She watched him bat his eyes again and then she looked out at the shimmering smooth ice. It was childish, she knew, but it did seem to call to her.

  She narrowed her gaze at him. “You know I don’t care about your NHL status. I could still put your right into that board.”

  His smile disappeared and he rubbed the back of his head. “I’m sure you could. I don’t think I’m up for any more head bashing into boards. Just a nice friendly skate on the ice.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  When she returned from her father’s office, her white skates with their bright pink guards already on her feet, Christopher was just finishing tying his skates.

  “Where did these come from?” She dangled pink pom-poms from her fingers. They’d been hanging with the skates.

  The sexy grin that slid over his lips twisted her insides, but the smooth chuckle that escaped him reminded her of her friend. The one she’d missed for so many years.

  “He found those a few months back when he was going through some boxes looking for old papers. I could tie them on your skates if you want.”

  “I’d kill you with them first.”

  “The headlines read Retired NHL Player Strangled by Pink Pom-Poms.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh as he held out his hand to her as he stepped out onto the ice.

  “How long’s it been, Wil?” He skated away, making the first marks on the smooth surface.

  “I was here in June. Does that disappoint you?”

  “Only that I missed it.” He skated backward as she set her foot on the ice and felt the surge of it run through her.

  The glossy ice was unforgiving. But its smooth surface was inviting, and just as the skates had fit perfectly, the ice felt that way beneath her.

  She glided toward him and circled around him as he stood in the center of the rink. A few laps around the rink, and she turned to skate it backward. Her hair blew forward as she picked up speed and just as always, everything fell away from her as she sailed over the ice.

  It took her a moment to realize Christopher had stepped off the ice and into the box on the side of the rink. He plugged in his iPod, and music filled the empty building.

  The song was familiar, and she shook her head at him as he headed back toward her.

  “Remember it?”

  “What is wrong with you?” She laughed as he wrapped his arm around her waist and she fell in next to him.

  As if the seventeen years since they’d skated to the song didn’t exist, they fell into the routine they’d so diligently practiced. He’d sworn her to secrecy. No one was to ever know he’d agreed to couples skate with her, and she’d kept the promise.

  They remembered the moves, missing a step here and there. When it came to a moment when he would have lifted her into a jump, she broke free and skated a safe distance away. He caught up, and they continued.

  They laughed, they skated, and she remembered why she’d lost her heart to the boy, who was now a man skating beside her. She couldn’t help but wonder if that boy was part of the man, and if the man would hurt her as badly as the boy had.

  When the song ended, she stood face-to-face with him as the choreography had deemed it. Each of them out of breath and laughing. It was, she thought, the prime moment she expected him to kiss her again, but he didn’t.

  With his sexy smile, he skated away and retrieved his iPod. “Why is it that I can’t forget that stupid dance?”

  “Because you enjoyed it too much.” She skated off the ice.

  “What fifteen-year-old wouldn’t have wanted to hold a girl that tight?”

  The knot that had formed in her stomach tightened. “I’d better get home.”

  “Thanks for the dance, Wil,” he called after her, but she only raised a hand in salute as she walked back to her father’s office, her hands shaking and her heart racing.

  Malory fell into the chair in her father’s office and unlaced the skates as quickly as she could. How had she let herself get sucked into spending that last hour with Christopher when all day she’d fumed at how he’d kissed her, repeatedly, without even considering her feelings?

  She tied the laces of the skates together, wiped the blades dry, and hung them back on the hook. Glancing at the picture of herself in a beautiful gold sequined outfit that matched the one her mother had once worn, she shook her head. It was, she imagined, how her father would always remember her. Was that who Christopher remembered too?

  She sat back in the ch
air and slipped on her practical boots. Any thoughts he’d put in her head by kissing her needed to be wiped out. The last thing she needed now was to be thinking of a man. Especially a man who had broken her heart as badly as Christopher Douglas had. Men were just trouble. She’d been sure her move back to Aspen Creek was going to steer her clear of anymore man trouble. She really wished she would have known trouble was waiting for her.

  She finished tying her boots and stood to zip up her coat. She heard the Zamboni machine start again and laughed. It was obvious he still loved driving that silly thing around the ice. Why else would he have wanted to tear the ice up so bad?

  Malory picked up her gloves from her father’s desk, and a stack of papers caught her eye. She picked up the top sheet, printed on gold paper, and looked it over. Heat filled her cheeks and her jaw clenched.

  With the paper in her hand, she marched back to the ice as Christopher continued to smooth the ice. She’d wait. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, and the longer it took him to finish that ice the madder she became.

  “What is this?” She waved the letter in her hand as Christopher pulled the machine off the ice and parked it in its place.

  “Geeze, Wil. Don’t have a heart attack.” He climbed down from the machine and took the paper from her. His expression changed as he looked at it and back at her. “Wil, let’s sit down and talk.”

  “Why do you have a business license for the ice rink?”

  “Better yet, let’s talk about this tomorrow with Harvey.”

  Malory stepped closer to him until their bodies nearly touched. “Let’s talk about it now.”

  He raked his fingers though his hair then tucked the license into his coat pocket. “Something tells me you’re not ready to hear it. So let’s just wait.”

  “Chris! I want to know why your name is on that license.”

  He bit his lip and looked around the rink. When his eyes settled back on hers, she took a breath to give him one more chance before she pelted him with her fist.

  “I own the arena now.”

  She stood there, unable to speak.

  He shook his head. “I told you. Let’s talk about this with Harvey.”

  “You own it? When did that happen?”

  “Wil. It’s just . . .”

  “You think you can just come back to town and buy it all up? Where do you get off?” She shoved her hands at his chest.

  “Me? Who’s just going to happen to be at the restaurant when Esther walks through the door so she can buy up her bakery?” She sent him an icy stare. “Yeah, you’re not the only one who talks to my mom.”

  “That’s different. She wants out.”

  He shrugged his shoulders and lifted his hands with their palms up.

  The fire in her belly was raging. “You’re telling me he wanted out?”

  “I’m telling you to talk to Harvey.”

  The snow and gravel in front of the house kicked up as she skidded to a stop in the driveway. She wasn’t sure who she was angrier with, Christopher or her father. Wasn’t she entitled to a little courtesy when it came to the knowledge that her father was planning on selling the rink?

  Malory stormed through the back door and let it slam behind her. The house remained quiet and her tantrum wasn’t stirring her father. She had a mind to go wake him up and have her words with him, but her conscience wouldn’t allow it. He worked too hard and she wouldn’t begrudge him his sleep.

  “Tomorrow,” she promised herself aloud. “You’ll tell me what you did.”

  No matter how early she woke, she wasn’t surprised to find her father had already left the house. No doubt in the time he’d already been at the ice arena, he’d shuffled in and out a dozen figure skaters. Some of them would have driven twenty or more miles just for the ice time.

  She stirred around the empty house, made a pot of coffee, then decided she’d just make herself crazy if she hung around any longer. How could you feel so alone at five a.m., she wondered.

  Malory showered and headed into town. As she drove by the ice arena, she spotted her father’s truck and Christopher’s as well.

  She turned the other direction. “I’m not in the mood for both of you,” she said to herself.

  She stopped at Maggie’s and figured if she was up and ready, she might as well lend a hand.

  The parking lot was already full. It never ceased to amaze her that men could fill a restaurant that early.

  Maggie was pouring coffee to a table and had an armful of dirty dishes as well. Malory wasn’t sure how the woman did it day after day, but there she was with a smile shining on her face.

  “I’ll take those.” Malory took the dirty dishes from her arm as Maggie moved to another table to fill more coffee.

  “Hey, Mag, get yourself some new help?” a man said.

  “Looks like I did.”

  Malory put the dishes in the stainless steel sink. She took off her coat, hung it on the hook, and pushed her sleeves up. She pulled down the sprayer and began to spray off the dishes before loading them into the dishwasher.

  “Knew you were looking for a job, just didn’t remember hiring you.” Maggie dropped another handful of dishes on the counter.

  “Just was wandering around the house. Thought I should put myself to use.”

  “Good. Samantha’s got a sick kid at home. She didn’t come in this morning.”

  “Sick a week before Thanksgiving? That’s no fun.”

  “Oh, that little one is sick a lot. I think she plays it up too much though. He’s her world and she thinks every sniffle is reason to keep him home.”

  Maggie filled her own coffee mug and took a sip. “Will you fill coffee when you’re done there?”

  “Sure.” Malory laughed and returned to spraying the dishes as Maggie hurried back out of the kitchen.

  It was a comfort to slide back into the routine at the restaurant. She hadn’t worked there since high school, but the routine was the same. She started with filling coffee at all the tables. Conversations hadn’t changed in fifteen years. The same men were still sharing the same fishing stories, the minister was still sharing his same wisdom, and the table of old ladies cruising for a new husband still thought Malory needed a man. She assured them she’d found one, married him, and left him just as they’d all one at least once. They toasted her with their coffee mugs, but when Christopher Douglas sauntered through the door, their attention diverted and so did hers.

  She hadn’t expected he’d show up there for breakfast, though she should have known. If she had given it some thought, she wouldn’t have hung around so long.

  He walked behind the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee.

  Malory slid in behind him and filled a glass of orange juice. “Careful. If you hang out behind the counter too long she’ll put you to work.”

  “Is that what happened to you?”

  “I stepped in to help.” She delivered the glass of orange juice, fully aware that he was still standing behind there watching her as he sipped his coffee.

  He’d finally sat down at the counter when she’d gone back to switch out coffeepots and brew a new pot. His mother had supplied him with breakfast, but she noticed he wasn’t eating.

  “Arena looked busy this morning.”

  “Yeah. The Christmas pageant is coming up. Everyone is vying for that coveted trophy.”

  The memory of the Christmas skating pageant made her drop her shoulders, and she caught herself smiling.

  She’d earned that trophy three times. She knew what it was to pour your heart into it. Even she’d been at the rink at five a.m. skating.

  She caught Christopher’s smile from behind his mug. He set it down for her to refill.

  “Harvey is just finishing up. He should be here in the next hour.”

  She nodded. Christopher caught her hand before she moved back.

  “Why don’t I cover here, and you go talk to him.”

  His consideration squeezed at her heart. It was becom
ing harder to hate him when he kept reminding her that they were friends by the small things he said or did.

  “Go, Wil. You need to talk.”

  A single skater worked with her coach on the basics of crossing her feet one over the other to gain speed as she skated backward. That had been a hard lesson for Malory to learn when she was seven, but the young girl seemed to be grasping the concept.

  Harvey was sitting in his office, his face shielded by his Colorado Avalanche cap. Malory tapped on his door. “Hey, stranger. Can I talk to you?”

  “Wil.” He shuffled his papers together and nodded to her. “Sure, honey. What’s wrong?”

  “Why do you assume there’s something wrong?” She took the seat across from him.

  “That line between your eyebrows.”

  Malory lifted her hand to the line she thought of as her tell sign and tried to rub it out. “Why did you sell him the rink?”

  Harvey reclined in his chair.

  “He told you already?”

  “I found out.” She nodded to the papers on his desk. “We skated last night, and I came in to get my skates.”

  Harvey took off his cap and ran his hand over his hair. “I guess I should have told you.”

  “Yeah, I think you should have.”

  Harvey replaced his cap. “And you should have told me you got divorced when you were here in June.”

  Did everyone have a retort for her when she had a statement to make?

  “I wasn’t ready to discuss it.”

  He leaned his arms on the desk and moved in closer to her. “I guess I wasn’t either.”

  “Will you just tell me why?” She leaned her arms on his desk and watched him formulate his answer.

  “Things are tough, Wil. I’d have to raise the fees, and they’re high enough. There are more facilities than there used to be, and people don’t have to use us.”