Page 28 of Hat Trick

Her smile is slow, definitely not as flashy as the one she gifted me with earlier when I first walked up, but it’s no less powerful. No lessmesmerizing.

“The girls picked me up today,” she says. “I’ll give youdirections.”

11

Gwen

“And here Iwas thinking you were bringing me back toCheers.”

“Not today,” I murmur, taking the two pairs of skates from the attendant. “Have you ever skated in the BostonCommons?”

Marshall’s pewter gaze darts to the ice rink behind me. Every year, the city decks out the gardens with a temporary rink. The trees are draped with vibrantly colored lights. Vendors line the pathways, offering everything from sugar cookies to hot chocolate to little holiday trinkets forpurchase.

It’s enchanting, and, until tonight, my experience with the festivities has been relegated to only what I’ve readonline.

With a firm hand, Marshall takes both pairs of skates from me. “Can’t say that I have. Anytime I play hockey, it’s for a team. Don’t think I’ve skated recreationally since my youngeryears.”

I lift a brow. “Youngeryears?”

He tips his head back with a laugh, and the sound is contagious, sexy-as-hell. “One of these days you’ll get over the age thing.” He gestures for me to take a seat at a bench near the open rink. “Just think, when we’re old and gray, you’ll be thankful I’m always younger and good-looking.”

Stealing the smaller-sized skates from him, I slip off my boots and draw on one cream-colored skate. “Youarepretty.” I cast a quick glance his way to see if he caught my teasingcomment.

His mouth flattens, just slightly, as he grunts, “I accept handsome, hot, sexy, and tear-off-my-panties-with-your-teeth-Marshall.”

The last option sends the skate lace missing its appropriate hook. Because with his words comes averyhot visual of him tearing my underwear off with his teeth. Not that I’ll admit to picturing him between my thighs—yet.

“You’re pretty, Marshall,” I repeat, eyes down on my lacing job. “Why denyit?”

His thigh presses against mine as he undoes his sneakers. “Makes me soundfeminine.”

“There’s nothing feminine aboutyou.”

“Is that acompliment?”

“Depends on whether you’ll let me tell you all the ways that you’repretty.”

Marshall grins, his dimples indenting his cheeks as his blunt-tipped fingers string up his laces in the same amount of time it takes me to unzip my boot and cast it to the side. “How about this? You can tell me how pretty I am, but each time you do so, I have the option to remove a kiss from yourtally.”

I whistle low. “You’reheartless.”

“Evil, honey.” He winks playfully. “Don’t bemistaken.”

Honey.

My heart stutters at the word. It feels . . . foreign, both off his tongue and also in general. I can’t even recall the last time I was on the receiving end of an endearment. Manny’s much too professional for any of that; calling me Teacup is the furthest he’ll go. My mother—well, we’ll save that for another day. As for the men I’ve . . . seen, endearments weren’t a part of those arrangements. I withhold a snort. Honestly, not much besidessexwas involved. Casual to the veryend.

It suited me, then. Back when I tried with every fiber of my being to never let a man get close to my heart, to never beAdaline.

If only I’d realized that I didn’t have to go to the extremes to disprove the saying,like mother likedaughter.

No doubt I would have saved myself a world of internalheartache.

“Ready?”

My shoulders twitch at the sound of Marshall’s husky baritone. Much like the night at Faneuil Hall, he’s on his feet (or skates, rather), and holding out his hand for me totake.

“Should we put our shoes somewhere?” I ask, eyeing my boots. They aren’t a favorite pair, but I’d rather not have to walk back to Marshall’s truck in socks. “They’ve got to have lockers or some sort of storagenearby.”

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