Page 40 of Mistletoe Face Off

“I don't know if I want to,” she says haltingly.

I crouch down beside her. “Are you sure?”

“I don't know.”

I pull her into a hug. “It's okay if you don't want to try it today. We can go home and have some mac and cheese.”

I pull back and look into her face. It's twisted up in anxiety, and my heart squeezes for my little girl. “It's okay, sweetie,” I say once more as I pull her in for another hug. “It's no big deal. If you don't want to skate today, we’ll come another day. Or not at all. It’s totally up to you.”

To my total surprise, she lets out a light, gurgling laugh, and I look back at her to see her face has transformed as she watches something over my shoulder. I turn to see Harry playing the fool on the ice. He's pretending to fall and then rights himself, before he does a turn and lands on one foot, showing impressive dexterity and control, just as he did as the figure skating Santa.

I can't help but smile. He's doing this to lighten the mood—and I think it might be working.

“Do you know what I need out here,” he says when he skates back to us.

“What do you need, Harry?” I ask.

“I need somebody yay high,” he says, his hand held at Macy's height. “That's what I need. Someone yay high who can stop me from doing all the crazy things I was just doing. Hey, Macy. You're about the right size. Can you give a guy a hand?”

I'm about to encourage her to join Harry when, to my utter astonishment, she releases herself from my grasp and takes a tentative step onto the ice. In one fluid movement, Harry takes her by both hands, and glides backwards, coaxing her gently forwards.

“I knew you could help me,” he says, grinning at her. “You’re the perfect size, Macy.”

I stand and watch, emotion welling up in me, my hand over my heart. Harrison’s eyes flick to mine and he raises his chin, his smile shining bright.

I mouth the words “thank you” to him before I also step onto the ice and skate over to them, being careful not to put Macy off.

“Well, would you look at you. You’re a total natural on the ice, Macy,” Harry says.

She’s concentrating too hard to reply. Her gloved hands are gripping tightly onto Harry’s as he pulls her carefully across the ice.

“You're doing it, honey,” I say, pride and happiness filling my chest.

Harry skillfully maneuvers through the other skaters, intuitively knowing where others are located. It's like a sixth sense, his ability to detect movement in his peripheral vision, honed from multiple years on the ice.

I skate close by, watching Macy's face, looking for any signs of anxiety. But after a while, her features relax, a smile lifting the edges of her mouth, and I can tell she's growing in confidence with every inch of ice her skate slides across.

It’s the most wonderful sight I’ve seen in a long, long time, and I have Harry to thank for it.

After a while, Harry leads her over to the side where he tells her he's going to try something else.

“What?” Macy asks nervously.

“I thought I might put my hands around your waist and guide you as you slide across the ice,” he replies. “Don’t worry. I’ve totally got you. I’m good at this.” He smiles up at me and I swear, my ovaries give me a prod.

Who knew Harrison Clarke, defenseman for the Chicago Blizzard by day and Santa by night, could be the sweetest, most caring, and gentle of men with my daughter?

If I wasn’t catching feelings for him before, after this, I’m sure I have now. Every smile, every glance, every foot of ice he covers carefully with Macy, feels like it’s carved a little deeper into my heart.

Macy's brows pull together, and I wonder whether this is the moment where she backs out. But this daughter of mine is on a roll, it would seem, and with a firm nod of her head, she allows Harry to hold her steady and skate back onto the ice. I keep up with them, constantly checking that Macy is doing okay, and feeling a lot like a helicopter parent. But as Harry guides her in moving her feet a little and trying out some assisted skating,supported by his strong, reassuring presence, the helicopter parent in me flies away. Macy’s face is a study in concentration in what I could only describe as sheer delight.

Harry’s gaze captures mine, his smile soft, and my heart gives a little squeeze.

I am in trouble,deep.

Chapter Ten

Harrison

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