Page 5 of Enticing

I catch Izzy side-eyeing me. “Hey, Molly... have you met Izzy?”

Ares watches me carefully, like I’m negotiating with tiny terrorists.

Molly shakes her head and bites down on her lips while Izzy looks from me to Molly. “I like your skates,” Izzy breaks the ice like a little pro.

Golden curls bounce around Molly’s shoulders as she checks out her own skates, then tentatively makes eye contact with Izzy. “Thanks. I like your braids.”

Izzy beams. “Thanks. My mom taught me to do them myself.”

Ares elbows me and nods.

To quoteStep Brothers... I think they may have just become best friends.

A few minutes later, all the kids have been picked up. Everyone except Izzy, who’s lost some of her earlier toddler bravado as she waits for her parents...

Wait—is a five-year-old a toddler?

I make a mental note to ask one of my sisters and wave Cohen off as I tell him I’ll wait with Izzy.

“Do you know I work here?” I ask, her big brown eyes looking everywhere but at me. The Revolution Arena is massive,seating twenty thousand rowdy fans during a game. I imagine it’s overwhelming to someone small.

“What do you do here?”

“I play hockey.” I point back toward the ice. “I’m a winger.”

She scrunches up her nose. “Do you fly?”

“No. Well... I mean... I’m pretty fast. Sometimes they say I can fly on the ice.”

“Oh my God,” a sexy as sin voice I’m certain I’ll never forget breaks through the quiet hum of the stadium. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”

When I turn to see just who that voice belongs to, I’m dumbstruck.

Ho-ly fuck.

A literal angel is rushing toward us.

Long white-blonde hair falls down her back over a creamy sweater that’s hitting her mid-thigh and covering tight black leggings tucked into knee-high riding boots. Her pale cheeks are flushed red, and big doe eyes are locked on Izzy. She doesn’t even see me here, but there’s no way I’ve missed her. It feels like someone just smacked me with a two-by-four.

Izzy shrugs. “It’s okay. Leo waited with me.”

As if only now realizing I’m here, the goddess in front of me looks up, and all the softness from a minute ago is gone, replaced by ice as cold as the rink we just skated on. “Thank you. I’m sorry I was late. It won’t happen again.”

“It wasn’t a problem,” I tell her. “I’m Leo.”

She ignores me and reaches down, taking Izzy’s green skating bag in one hand, and Izzy slides her palm into her mother’s other hand.

“You ready to go, Izz?” She tugs Izzy behind her as they head for the door, never giving me a second glance.

The tiny brunette looks over her shoulder and waves. “See you next week, Leo.”

“See you next week, short stack.”

Well . . . damn.

Maybe Hockey Tots won’t be as bad as I thought.

ADELAIDE

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