Page 37 of Betting on Lizzie

They made small talk on the way to the rink. He asked if the insurance company had sent payment yet. They hadn’t, but it got her talking about her idea to build and lease generic office space rather than rebuild The Drop.

“My gut says the old clientele will just move to The Tipsy Twist. The parking’s convenient, there are pool tables, a patio, a bigger menu, more TVs, all that.”

“Usually best to follow those gut feelings,” he said.

She agreed. “Especially now that The Drop’s out of commission. Everyone will forget about it.”

They parked, got their skates, and were on the ice for less than two minutes before he fell.

“And here I thought you were gonna try to impress me with some hidden talent,” she said, grabbing his hand and helping him to his feet.

“I have a few hidden talents,” he said. “But ice skating is not one of them.”

They held hands and did their best but took turns falling every few minutes.

“That last fall’s gonna leave a mark,” she said. “I’m about done getting beat up by a sheet of ice. You ready to go?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

They returned the skates and walked to the parking lot.

“Sorry,” he said. “That was a terrible idea. Should’ve stuck with dinner and a movie.”

“No. It was fun. I haven’t been ice skating in ages.”

She was humoring him, but he’d allow it. “You wanna walk up the street and get a bite somewhere?” he asked.

In response, she zipped up her coat and started walking. He jogged to catch up and fell into step beside her. She was hard to read, but it was kind of fun trying.

“You worried about Maya going to UNC instead of UT?” she asked.

“Nah. As long as she’s happy. I don’t care where she ends up.” He fiddled with the zipper on his coat as they walked. “UNC is closer, so that would actually be a bonus.”

“You staying in New Bern then? Even if she goes to Tennessee.”

“Yes. At least until I retire, which is a few years away.”

She nodded, seemingly okay with the gaps of silence.

“You all set for Christmas?” he asked, unwilling to let the conversation die completely.

“Pretty much,” she said. “The family’s grown so much that we started drawing names instead of buying for everyone. I picked Dirk, Emma’s husband, and got him a fancy pen. He’s an author. I’ll get my parents something, and probably Lucy. I’m not big on shopping. You have to drag me to a mall. Especially this time of year.”

The declaration shocked Ben, but he didn’t know how to say so without sounding like he had all women stereotyped as mall-loving shopaholics, so he kept his mouth shut. Up ahead, he saw an Irish pub. It looked halfway classy.

“Shall we stop in here and grab a drink?” he asked. He knew he could use one right about now.

“Okay,” she said.

The barstools were full, so they ordered drinks at the bar to be delivered to a booth. She asked for a Guinness, and he ordered Jameson. When in Rome…

“Do you go to bars other than your own very often?” he asked after they settled across from each other in the cushy green vinyl.

She looked thoughtful for a second. “No, actually. I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t at a bar to work.”

“Might be nice to get served for once. See what it’s like on the other side.”

The waitress dropped their drinks and a couple of napkins, saying she’d be back in a jiffy in case they wanted to order food.

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