Page 27 of Meet Me on Christmas Eve

A warning sounded in my brain. This conversation could easily go south. “Ah, I did, but that was years ago. I’m sure I’ve already forgotten how.” It wasn’t true—I went skating every year in a small frozen lake in the woods behind the resort, but Hazel probably didn’t know that.

“Terry is an excellent skater,” Jane said, smiling at Terry. Of course onlyhewould get her rare smiles. “He played ice hockey in high school, didn’t he, Nina?”

“Oh yes, he was and still is a great skater. Hey, I bet he could help you relearn, Mariana.”

Panic surged through me. “Oh, I doubt—”

“She wouldn’t want to skate with me,” he said, his eyes trained on me.

My heart raced, and I knew I was trapped. Refuse, and I looked terrible in front of Jane and Nina. Accept and … well, skate with Terry. Potentially even touch him.

Would I survive that?

What was the worst-case scenario here?

I don’t know. I felt frozen with indecision.

But they were all looking at me. I had to decide.

“I guess she doesn’t want to,” Jane said, pursing her lips. “Her loss.”

I could barely breathe, but I managed to get out, “Wait, yes, I do. Sorry, I was just … I had a bad fall once and was thinking about that for a moment. I’ll put it out of my mind.”

Big lie. But it would do.

Nina looked at me with sympathy, and Jane looked mollified.

Terry’s eyes were narrowed though. “All right then. The rest of you can go find a place to watch, if you’d like.” He stood up and held out his hand to me. “You. Let’s go rent some skates.”

I was supposed to take his hand? Oh, I was well and truly screwed.

*****

Should I tell him I already know how to skate? I didn’t know if it was better to admit I’d lied about being out of practice or to stick to the lie but have to endure his teaching me and possibly touching me while he “helped” me. These thoughts plagued me as we put our skates on.

Then again, Jane may be out there watching. She’ll probably expect me to look like I don’t know how to skate, at least at first. I suppose I’d better act like I don’t know what I’m doing.

“So have you really not been out on the ice at all, or just not very often?” he asked as we reached the ice.

“Um.” I stepped onto the ice, gliding out a bit and then making myself wobble a bit. He grabbed my hand then.

Thank goodness we had gloves on. I couldn’t have handled skin-on-skin contact right now.

Why, I don’t want to think about. It’s not like I want him. I don’t even like him. I hate him, I think.

But even through the glove, I could feel the muscles in his hands flexing and intertwining with mine, and I became lost in the sensation … and I fell. Without even trying.

“Woah, I got you,” he said, strengthening his grip on my hand while kneeling down.

My knee had almost slammed into the ice, but not quite—he’d broken my fall. I looked up with reluctant gratitude. “Thank you.”

I continued to feel shaky while skating hand in hand with him, so distracted I was by his touch, his nearness. I sighed. “Let me try it on my own,” I said, looking at him with pleading eyes.

His eyes swung to mine, doubt written all over his face. “Really? I don’t mind holding on, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, it’s—thank you. I just want to try.” I can’t just sayI’ll do a thousand times better if I’m not distracted by you being so close. “If I fall on my face, I’ll come running back to you, OK?” I gave him a small smile.

He shrugged, letting go of my hand slowly. “Your call. I won’t be far away.”

---