by Jane Porter
She ignored the date-with-Paul comment. “Well, do thank her for me. Ordinarily, I’d love to have dinner at her house.”
“Just thank her when we skate.”
“I’m not skating. I can’t. I need to work.”
“You are so full of excuses.”
“Want to come over and see what I need to do? I have orders stacking up.”
“Sure. What time should I be there?”
Sadie groaned because she knew he meant it, too. He would be there. She had no doubt about it. “No. You can’t come over. I wouldn’t get anything done.”
“I’m really good with my hands.”
Her pulse jumped, and everything inside her jumped, too. It was all she could do not to glance at his hands, and imagine his hands on her.
“I don’t doubt it,” she said feeling breathless, “but I won’t be able to focus with you there. You’re a huge distraction.”
“So work in the morning and then come out after lunch.”
“Rory, I’m a terrible ice skater, and I mean terrible. I’m one of those people whose ankles go in, and I stagger across the ice because I take choppy little steps because I don’t know how to glide and then someone comes close, and I fling my arms out and lose my balance anyway and end up spread-eagle.”
He grinned. “I can’t decide if that’s wonderful or awful.”
“It’s awful. Trust me. Skate, wobble, fall. Skate, wobble, fall. You’d be so embarrassed to be seen with me.”
“You forget I’ve spent the past twenty-five years getting tossed on my butt, if not by a bronc, then by a bull.”
“Yes, but that’s because they’re bucking. When I’m skating it’s just me and the ice and the ice isn’t moving.”
“Practice makes perfect.”
“Maybe, when I can afford a broken arm or leg.” She reached out and gave his bicep a light squeeze, and then squeezed it again when she felt the delightfully hard, carved muscle. “Nice guns, bud.”
His husky laugh sent another ripple of pleasure through her and Sadie had to tell herself to be careful, and take it easy, because she was falling for him, the real him, hard and fast.
“Make tomorrow family time,” she said, pulling her hand away. “You haven’t seen a lot of McKenna and her kids, and I’m sure TJ is dying to show you some of his moves. Apparently, he’s one of the best young hockey players in Marietta.”
“Mac said the same thing to me today. I’m looking forward to seeing him on the ice.”
“Have fun.”
“I will, and we’ll be sure to see each other soon.”
We’ll be sure to see each other soon did not mean, at Grey’s Saloon, Sunday night while she was out with Paul.
But there he was, walking into Grey’s with Trey and Troy Sheenan five minutes before the big Sunday night game.
Sadie’s first instinct was to slide under the table and then her next was indignation. What was Rory doing here tonight? He knew she was meeting Paul to watch the game tonight. Did he really have to come to Grey’s tonight, too?
For the first thirty minutes of the game, she managed to ignore Rory and the Sheenan twins as they settled at an open table over in the corner, drinking their beer and eating burgers—and okay, she did glance over a couple times, but they were just quick glances and she never made eye contact with Rory, nor would she. But the fact that she was sneaking glances over annoyed her, so she shifted her chair toward Paul’s, ensuring that Rory’s table was no longer in her line of sight.
Paul was delighted by her move, and reaching out, he pulled her chair even closer so that they were now side by side. And once they were that close, he reached for her hand, holding it under the table.
Sunday night football was going from bad to worse. Sadie had held Paul’s hand before, and while there had never been sparks, she hadn’t minded his touch. Tonight, however, she felt completely different and completely uncomfortable. There was nothing even remotely pleasant about holding hands... his palm felt moist, his fingers felt thick, his hold too firm.
She told herself the only reason she was uncomfortable was because Rory was here. She also told herself she couldn’t let Rory be such a big influence yet. It wasn’t as if she and Rory were exclusive, either.
“I can order you something besides the beer,” Paul said, leaning toward her, moving in so close she wondered if he was going to try to kiss her. They’d kissed, too, brief, heatless kisses that she spent trying to think of something else. Clearly, Paul was not the right one for her.
“Why?” she asked.
“You’ve barely touched your beer.”
“I’m good. Just trying to take it slow. We have three full quarters ahead of us.”
“You’re not driving tonight. I’ll be sure to get you home safely.”
She smiled at him unable to think of an answer to that. Because of course he’d get her home safely. Everything he did was safe and slow, and conscientious. “But on second thought, if you want to order me something, I’d love a water.”
“And some more wings?”
“Perfect.” Sadie eased her damp hand from his. “I’m just going to head to the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back.”
In the bathroom, Sadie paced the small floor, back and forth, fighting panic and frustration. What was she doing here with Paul? Why had she continued dating him when she’d never felt any spark or true connection? Or had she thought Paul was suitable before Rory came home and turned her world on its head?
She wouldn’t be surprised if Rory was the problem here. She appreciated his determination and drive. It had made him successful. But he couldn’t steamroll right over her. He wasn’t going to push her around. If she wanted to date other people, she would. And if she wanted to only date Rory, she would. It wasn’t his call. He couldn’t make that decision for her. Rory was no saint. He had to have dated dozens, if not hundreds, of buckle bunnies and she’d never judged him.
Leaving the restroom, she had a feeling she’d find Rory in the hall, waiting for her. But he wasn’t there, and she felt a little deflated as she passed the pool tables in the back and headed toward her table. And then she saw him, seated in her chair at her table, talking to Paul.
Sadie couldn’t believe it. She froze for a moment, just taking it in. What was he doing talking to Paul?
Rory rose as she reached the table. He gave her his devastatingly sexy smile as he leaned across to give her a hug and then a kiss on the cheek.
“Good to see you here,” he said, his hand lingering on her back, his palm warm, the pressure firm.
She managed a smile. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to watch the game.” He gestured to his table with Trey and Troy. “Thought it would be good to get out of the house a little bit, give the women some freedom.”
She wasn’t buying it. “You mean, leave the women home alone with the kids while you guys go out and play?”
“Actually, the kids have babysitters. McKenna is in her photography studio developing prints, and Taylor is in Bozeman doing some Christmas shopping.” He gave her a look as if daring her to add something.
She wouldn’t take the bait.
Paul was oblivious to any tension. He turned to Rory. “Join us. We can pull up another chair.”
Rory shook his head. “Thanks, but I better get back. I just wanted to say hello, and introduce myself.”
“Good of you, Rory,” Paul said earnestly, shaking Rory’s hand. “Nice to meet you, especially as I’ve heard so much about you over the years.”
Rory returned to his table without a single glance back at Sadie. And Sadie knew he didn’t look at her because she watched him all the way.
But five minutes later her phone vibrated, alerting her to a new text. She pulled her phone from her purse and checked the message.
It was from a number she didn’t recognize, but the message cleared up any confusion as to who the sender was.
“He’s a nice guy, babe, but he’s not for you.”
She lifted her head, looked over to Rory’s table and he was looking at her.
Sadie ground her teeth in frustration, quickly texting back. “How did you get my number?”
“McKenna.”
“You’re interrupting my date.”
“You’re letting me interrupt.”
She shot him another dark look before turning her phone off and putting it back in her purse.
It wasn’t until she got home that night and turned her phone back on that she saw he’d sent her one last message.
“I’m going to be at Miracle Lake tomorrow morning at nine. I know you don’t go into work until noon. Don’t be a coward. Come meet me. I know you want to.”
Chapter Eight
She was there at Miracle Lake at nine on the dot. Rory was already there at the clearing, leaning against his truck.
“You don’t need to look so smug,” she said, stepping from her car and slamming the door shut behind her.
He grinned, a lazy, self-satisfied smile that made it clear he never once doubted that she wouldn’t show up. “You look beautiful.”
“I’m wearing jeans and my marshmallow coat. I don’t look beautiful.”
“I happen to really like marshmallows.”
She gave him a quelling glance, and she walked with him to the hut that rented the skates. “Tell me, why are we doing this?”
“It’s good to get you out of your comfort zone.”
“News flash, Douglas, you are out of my comfort zone.”
He laughed and gave her a little hug. “You’re a tad grumpy today, Mann. What’s gotten into you?”
“If you’d asked me to breakfast, I’d be delighted, especially if I could order some pancakes. Or if you’d invited me to help you tackle your Christmas shopping that would have been great. But, skating? Not so much.”
“How do you feel about snowboarding?”
“Have never been.”
“Skiing?”
“Tried it a couple times but I hate the part where I lose control and go downhill too fast.”
“You might like cross-country skiing then.”
“Can we just stick with rides and drives? I really enjoy those things more.”
His lips twitched. “Do movies meet with your approval?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Because I’ve bought tickets for a movie Wednesday night. The Palace Theater is doing classics all December—”
“I know!” She did a little bounce as she faced him. “And this week is Holiday Inn. Is that the one we’re seeing?”
“It is.”
“It’s a musical.” She shot him a doubtful glance. “Did you know that?”
“Yes.”
“That means there will be lots of singing and dancing.”
“If you’re hoping it’s out of my comfort zone, you’ll be disappointed. I like the classic movies, even the musicals.”
He paid for their skate rentals and they carried them to a bench next to the frozen lake and put them on.
“Are you sure you can do this?” she asked tying the first laces. “Skate two days in a row with that achy old hip of yours?”
“Sweetheart, you’d be amazed at what I can do with this achy old hip of mine.”
She blushed hotly. “Why do you go there?”
“I don’t.” He laughed. “You do.”
She didn’t reply, concentrating on her second skate instead.
“So how was last night?” Rory asked, leaning against the bench, his skates already laced.
“Fine. Seahawks lost.”
“That’s disappointing.”
She suspected there was a double meaning somewhere in his reply. She shrugged and carefully double knotted the laces. “The Seahawks’s defense is hurting. We’re definitely not the same team without the Legion of Boom.”
“You know your football.”
“Just Seattle.” She sat up and pulled her gloves back on. “The pilot I dated was a huge Seahawks fan. He took me to a couple games. That was fun.”
“Was he as nice as Paul?”
She rose and gave Rory a sweet smile. “No, Paul is nicer.”
“That’s good. You deserve a really nice guy.”
And yet the way Rory said it managed to make nice sound like boring.
“I quite liked Paul,” Rory added, getting to his feet. “He’s exactly the kind of person you’d want working for the city.”
“Did you ask me to come here this morning so we could discuss my date, or did we come to skate?”
“We came to skate.”
“Great.” She took a wobbly step toward the rink. “Then let’s get this over with, cowboy.”
They slowly skated around the perimeter of the rink, their speed and caution that of two frail senior citizens than a pair still in their thirties. Fortunately, the ice was virtually empty since everyone was either at work or in school.
“I’ve never been here in winter and seen it so empty,” she said.
“It’s nice like this. Peaceful.”
“I’d feel a little more peaceful if I wasn’t afraid I’d fall any minute.”
“It was definitely more fun before I was hurt.” His smile was rueful. “But it feels good to be out here. I used to come a lot as a kid. We all did. Quinn was a great skater.”
“Heard he was a nationally ranked hockey player at one point.”
Rory nodded. “Growing up, Quinn played every sport and then gradually narrowed it down to hockey and baseball, and he had the chance to be drafted for both, but in the end went with baseball. I think he made a good choice. He’s had a solid career, even if it’s starting to wind down.”
“So how did TJ look yesterday? Did he remind you of a young Quinn?”
“He’s got Quinn’s natural athletic ability, but in looks, he’s all Sheenan. He really is a mini Trey.”
“Do you see Quinn often?”
“We met up last January before I returned to the circuit, and then I happened to be in Phoenix in March and was able to see him play a game during spring training.”
“How much longer do you think he’ll be playing baseball?”
“This might be his last season. He’s ready to move on and do different things.”
“Will he come back to Marietta?”
“He has a big house overlooking the Yellowstone River, but I don’t think he’s been there more than a couple times, and he’s thinking about putting it on the market. I told him it could be a good rental and so he’s asked me to take a look. I’m heading there after we finish here. Want to drive over with me?”
“I have to be at work at noon.”
“I can have you back.”
“Does that mean we get to stop skating soon?”
“Do you hate it that much?”
“No,” she answered, apparently unconvincingly because Rory laughed.
They made another cautious loop around the rink, the sun glittering on the snow, and the only sound the scrape of their blades against the ice. Sadie drew in a deep breath, the frosty morning invigorating, the air smelling of pine. She wouldn’t say she was comfortable, but as they finished their fourth sweeping circle, she did feel rather victorious for not falling once.
“How about we return the skates and head over to Quinn’s house?” Rory suggested.
Sadie was delighted to call it a day, and once she’d changed back into her shoes, she went to the car and retrieved the small picnic basket she’d packed earlier with a Thermos of hot coffee and cherry scones she’d baked that morning.
“Snacks for the road,” she said, as Rory opened the passenger door of his truck for her and she climbed in.
“What do you have?”
“Coffee and scones.”
“Sounds delicious, but should we wait for Quinn’s? Don’t want to risk getting you burned.”
“Good plan.”
Quinn’s house was only another five minutes from the lake. It was a big, sprawling wood and stone house, one of those go
rgeous mountain homes you’d see in a luxury magazine.
“Nice,” she said.
“It is,” he agreed, and yet she noted that when he parked, he faced the river instead of the imposing house. “Would you mind having coffee in the car? I rather like this view.”
“Don’t mind at all,” she answered, placing the basket between them and taking out two glazed mugs featuring green Christmas trees against a cheery red background. Sadie filled the mugs with coffee and then offered him one of the scones.
She watched as he bit into the scone and then smiled when he gave her a thumbs up.
“Delicious,” he added.
“My mom’s recipe. It’s super easy, and since I had a little time earlier while the varnish was drying, thought I’d whip up a batch.”
“They remind me of my mom’s scones. She made hers with raisins or dried cranberries.”
“You can make these with any kind of fruit. At Christmas my mom would use three kinds of berries and then drizzle a little icing on top.”
“What else did she make for you?”
“Everything. She was very hands on. She made my clothes and cooked all our meals every day. We rarely ate out—it was expensive—but she also liked being home in the evening after being out working all day.”
“How many days a week did she work?”
“Six. Sunday was her rest day.”
“And where did you go on Saturdays?”
“When I was little, I’d go with her, and then when I was old enough to stay home alone, I did.”
“You didn’t have any aunts or uncles or grandparents nearby?”
“My parents moved here from Nebraska. My dad grew up in foster care and my mom grew up with an abusive dad and an alcoholic mom. I think they just wanted to escape their past and start fresh.”
“And then your mom was widowed young.”
“Yeah.” Sadie unscrewed the coffee Thermos and topped off his cup. “Because I never knew my dad she’d tell me little things about him. He was a redhead, like me, and he was really funny. Mom met him at a restaurant. She was the hostess, and he came in with some friends. She said the first thing she noticed was that he was handsome, but she didn’t trust a really good-looking man, and then he made her laugh, and that’s when she fell in love. Mom said Dad made her laugh every single day.”
