Page 10 of Fate on the Ice

She seems skittish, so I release her hand and shove mine in my pocket. “Nice to meet you, too. Did you get all moved in?”

I rock back on my heels, wishing I could touch her again—everywhere. Her smile brightens slightly, and she dips her chin once. “I don’t have much, just a few boxes, and they’re already unpacked.”

“Grace doesn’t waste even a second,” Brooklynn calls out. “She’s going to work at the salon, too.”

Grace.

I fucking love that name.

Grace’s cheeks tint pink with embarrassment. I don’t want to make her feel worse, so instead of asking her any more questions, I give her a wink and take a step to the side. I want to get to know her.

I want to kiss her.

I want to taste her.

I want to fuck her—long and hard.

But I’m not sure she is ready for that. It’s clear to me that she’s shy. And as much as I love a woman who is confident and straightforward, I can’t deny that she intrigues me.

I want more of her, and she’s standing right in front of me.

Chapter

Five

GRACE

Inwardly, I repeat to myself that I hate athletes. I try to talk myself into it. I cannot date a hockey player. Again, a chant that I try to talk myself into. I’m not sure it’s going to work, especially with the way he is watching me.

I know who he is. At least, I know he was walking out of my father’s office. I should want absolutely nothing to do with the man standing in front of me. And I’m not sure it matters how many times I repeat my inward chants. Because the problem is, I want everything to do with him.

He’s perfection.

He’s tall and muscular. His dark hair and beard are a bit wild, but it only adds to his attractiveness. He looks like one of those hot mountain men. Like he could swing an axe with ease.

I can’t even begin to imagine what he looks like with his clothes off.

And I shouldn’t… but I do.

The rest of the evening, I try to engage in conversation and stay away from Otto, but I fail. Over and over, I’m drawn to him, my body instinctually inching closer to his throughout the entire evening. I don’t know why he hasn’t said more than a few words to me, but the way he watches me, the intensity in his gaze as he does, causes my heart to skip a beat.

Nobody has ever looked at me like that before.

He’s perfect.

And he’s not for me.

No matter how badly I want him to be.

Not only because of who my father is but also because I don’t attract men like him. They are never meant for me, and even if they give me a glance, they figure out that I’m nothing special pretty quickly and move on.

The men stay until after two in the morning, then leave, saying that they have work to do tomorrow. Once they’re gone and I’ve helped clean up, I climb the stairs and head straight for my new bedroom.

I’m exhausted. I feel drained from the day. I did a lot today, moving into this house, having a party, and meeting the neighbors. I’m not an overly social person, so this whole day has taken everything out of me.

Changing into my pajamas, I walk over to the window and open the blinds. I can’t help myself. I have to look before I go to sleep. Their house is in direct view. I shouldn’t be staring and wondering what Otto is doing right now. I should be climbing into bed and going to sleep.

But I stare and think anyway.

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