Page 51 of Sugar Baby Mine

He reaches out an arm to steady me, pulling me upright into his chest as he brushes a strand of hair behind my ear where it’s escaped my ponytail.

“I used to play hockey in college. I like getting back on the ice every now and then.”

“Oh, you’regood, good then. This is about to be embarrassing.”

His laugh whispers the hair over my neck as he leans in and presses his lips below my ear. “Just hold onto me, you’ll be fine.”

Yeah, like I’m actually going to let go now that I recall what it feels like to try and gain my balance on the blades as we walk from the benches to the open gate in the boards.

I fist my hand in Ben’s jacket as he steps forward onto the ice first, his hands on my forearms as he helps me step down. I slideforward as he glides backwards. I nearly shriek when my legs widen, and I can feel the cold air rushing up between my thighs as I stare down at the ice like it’s going to swallow me whole.

“Look up,” he instructs. “Bend your knees a bit.”

He corrects my course, and I manage to not yank him down into the ice even as he continues to glide backward.

“Fuck you,” I hiss even though I’m thankful he’s not letting go of me.

“Later, little bird.” He winks at me, lips tipping up into a smirk.

“Promises, promises,” I drawl.

“I’ll make good on it.”

I ignore the way his hands slip down to my wrists and my heart rate ticks up as he threads our fingers together to pull me along with him. I keep my hold on his hand as loose as possible with my wrist tilted back, my stomach churning almost violently at the thought of him feeling the raised skin of the scars on my palms.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long before I find my footing and begin to glide each foot forward until I can manage to skate up close to him without falling over.

Ben does a fancy little turn till he’s taking the spot next to me, but leaves one of our hands connected. It pains me to think about how good it feels to have him hold my hand. To allow him so close to the physical manifestation of a lot of my anxieties. Instead of squeezing his hand, I give him a little nudge with my shoulder.

“So, you played hockey in college?”

“I did, up until I had to drop everything except for my classes senior year of my undergrad to help take care of my dad when he got sick. I couldn’t handle hockey plus my internship hours on top of things at home.”

“Oh.” I turn my gaze on the other pairs, couples, and families with kids who circle the rink with us in varying levels ofexpertise. “Is it insensitive to ask if he hadn’t gotten sick, do you think you would have gone pro?”

He’s silent for a long while. I turn to look at him when he tightens the grip on my hand, but I pull my fingers lax.

“I’m not sure I was good enough, to be honest. I might have thought about it a lot back in the day, but it’s hard to say without being in the moment.”

I bite my cheek. “That’s fair. I’m sure you were better than you think, though.”

Ben shakes his head, lip twitching up out of the corner of my eye. “If you’re going to say you wish you would have been able to see me play, you would have been a toddler at the time. So no, I don’t really want to think aboutthat.”

I huff out a laugh, icy breeze skating past my cheek and fluttering the loose hairs from my ponytail as someone picks up the pace to pass around us.

“I mean,Iwasn’t going to say it. But whatever, old man.”

He gives me a withering look, and I bump into his arm with my shoulder as gently as I can without knocking myself off balance.

We skate side by side a lot slower than most of the other pairs, but I don’t mind. Even with my freezing legs and toes that don’t feel warm enough despite my fuzzy boot socks.

“So, you went to college for architecture, then?” I ask. “Is that always what you wanted to do other than playing hockey?”

“I wanted to be an engineer for a while, but shifted to architecture when Fred’s father handed him the keys to his construction company at our high school graduation. It was the smartest move I could have made. We worked a partnership out of it eventually.”

“And do you like it?”

Ben lets loose a sigh. “I do, though sometimes I can’t stand the politics of it. Names matter more than skill or experience, and that’s something that’ll never change.”

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