Page 78 of On Thin Ice

I glanced back to see the empty space where the third line had been sitting, but they were now on the ice.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Get your head in the game,” Millsy said.

“It’s there.” I slid down the bench.

“You okay?” Micah asked.

“What? Yeah.” I took a sip of the water in front of me and twirled my stick between my legs, amping myself up.

When I hit the ice less than a minute later, my father was shoved out of my brain, and my focus was solely on playing the game I loved.

And maybe getting a goal or two for Ally.

For the baby.

Did she notice my little salute every time I scored?

***

“We’re doing this,” Ally said, pointing a pair of tongs in my direction as I held a bag of rice.

I’d gotten home earlier today from my road trip and after she’d finished working this afternoon, she’d informed me that we were going to cook tonight. That we had to learn so we could cook healthy meals for the baby. I didn’t remind her that, according to the books I’d read, Baby Girl wouldn’t be eating actual food for a while.

“Rice is hard, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Penny said this recipe is foolproof,” she replied before she turned back to examine the three pots she’d pulled out. “This one.” She held out a medium-sized pan toward me.

“Do I just dump the rice in?” I asked.

“Measure it first, of course. Two cups of water and one cup of rice should be enough.” She pulled the package of rice from my hands and examined the back. “Wait. Water first. Bring to a boil, then add the rice. Yeah, we can totally do this.”

I chuckled softly. She was right. Learning to cook was important. I was a takeout and meal-service kind of guy. Occasionally, I tried my hand at cooking, but it never came out the way it was supposed to. It was just easier to get a meal delivery service, especially during the season.

“You can handle rice, right?” she asked, glancing up as she held out the bag of rice again.

“Sure, sure.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you.”

“There’s a reason those pans look new.” Then I shrugged. “But we got this. What are we having again?”

“Italian marinated grilled chicken, roasted veggies, and rice.”

“Sounds good. I’ve got a fire extinguisher under the counter,” I teased.

“Very funny. And I can cook; I just don’t really like to, so I stick to easy stuff, like pasta and store-bought meatballs,” she said.

“Store-bought? Rose Lanzi would be horrified,” I said with mock outrage. I had yet to find an Italian restaurant as good as Lanzi’s here in Denver. Man, I missed that food.

“Don’t you dare tell her or anyone else. It’s our secret,” she said, pointing those tongs at me again.

I chuckled and scooted closer to her, nudging her shoulder. “I won’t tell a soul. And we’ll learn how to cook together. It’ll be delicious.”

Was it a trick of the light or had her eyes just flared when I said delicious?

Get your head out of your cock, Dom.

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