Page 57 of Head Over Skates

My belly flip flops, and all I can think of is how badly I want this man to kiss me right now. How I want to feel the weight of him, his solid body surrounding me, those strong arms gathering me against him.

Heat creeps up my neck. I know my face must look like a strawberry right now. So I duck my chin into my scarf, biting on my bottom lip.

"You're so beautiful when you do that," he says softly.

GAH! I can’t take it. I may not hate Owen anymore, but a relationship with him is way off the table. He has a son. A really cute son, but still. I won’t get in the middle like that. Especially if there’s a chance he can still make it work with Shannon. Cyrus could have a normal family.

“We should probably keep skating before we get cold.” I bid, deflecting the conversation before I change my mind and straddle him right here in front of all the people passing by. It’s getting late, and the trails are clearing out, but there are still a few skaters enjoying the magic of golden hour. The last thing I need is to scandalize all of Quebec. Then again, they’re French.

We toss our trash in a bin and get back on the ice. Evening is falling, and the fading light casts a magical, soft pink glow over the snowy pines. Owen reaches for my hand again, interlacing our fingers. We left our gloves in the car, so I welcome the warmth of his hand.

The winding trail darkens in the dusk, but as the sun sets, fires light in the distance, and warm fairy lights illuminate in the trees towering over us. Nothing will ever top this.

As we round a bend, Owen lets go of my hand, gaining a few feet on me, and turns to face me, slowly skating backward infront of me. We've reached a more secluded part of the forest. It's just us surrounded by hushed pines.

“When did you know you wanted to be a figure skater?” he asks openly, genuinely.

“I’ve been practically attached to my skates since I was four. I fell in love with it instantly. I think I’ve spent more time on the ice than sleeping, eating, and everything else combined.”

"You're a natural," he remarks, flashing me that charming grin of his. "I can see why you were an Olympian."

I give a small, rueful smile. "Once upon a time, maybe."

"So what made you give it up?" Owen asks gently. "If you don't mind me asking."

I bite my lip, debating how much to reveal. But something in his expression puts me at ease. He let me see his vulnerable side, after all.

"My partner and I were favored to win gold at the Beijing Olympics," I begin slowly. "But the night before the long program, Pierre trashed his hotel room. He’d been doping. It was a huge scandal, and we were immediately disqualified."

Owen's eyebrows shoot up. "Seriously? What an idiot."

"Yeah, I was completely humiliated. So I left Beijing in disgrace, even though I'd done nothing wrong." My throat tightens. "I guess after that, I just wanted to get as far from the spotlight as possible."

“Wow, that really sucks.”

I laugh. “Okay?”

“I mean seriously. It really sucks. If I had a chance to go play hockey at the Olympics, and one of my teammates screwed us over like that? Let’s just say he wouldn’t have any more teeth and that’s saying a lot for hockey players.”

“That would suck for sure.”

“Sorry. That’s probably not the kind of sympathy you need.”

“No it’s okay. Actually, I hate sympathy. All those looks that I got after it happened. My teammates, my coaches, all those pitying glances… I just wanted to get away.”

“Well, then you won’t get any sympathy for me.”

“Thanks, you’re a real pal.”

He stops skating and I do too, so I won’t crash into him.

“Am I though? A pal? Is that what I am to you?”

“I don’t knowwhatyou are, actually,” I admit. “Until recently you were my enemy, so…” I shrug, not knowing how to finish.

Owen skates closer, his blue eyes soft. "Emily..." he starts.

My pulse quickens. He reaches up and brushes a wisp of hair from my cheek, his fingers leaving a trail of heat on my skin.

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