Page 61 of Mistlefoe
I lift my face, biting my lips so I don’t laugh. “Do they?”
Sierra folds her arms, face scrunched up in a pout. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, but you seem to have a dog’s nose and now I’m nervous.”
I chuckle. “Well, I appreciate the concern but your feet can’t possibly smell worse than a locker full of sweaty men and their gear soaking up all that juice.”
“Eww.” She pretends to gag. “That’s not the mental image I needed.”
“Sorry for ruining any fantasies you may have had.” I remove the first of her boots and pause. Her feet don’t stink but I think her real worry was this—her Hello Kitty socks. I lift my eyes only, looking at her over the rim of my glasses. “Cute.”
I enjoy the way her cheeks explode with heat. “Not another word, Mahoney.”
“Didn’t know they sold these in adult sizes—ow!” She smacks me hard on the shoulder.
“I warned you.” Her eyebrows crash into a fierce frown that would’ve cowed me months ago.
I’m still laughing as I fit her with the skate. She has to shift closer to the edge of her seat for her foot to go in all the way, and I stiffen as she puts her hands on my shoulders to prop herself. Too soon she removes them, and I trap the skate between my knees to work on the laces, testing with my fingers for the right fit.
We repeat the same process on the other side and I have to bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t quip about her fluffy, pink socks again. I never would’ve pictured tough as nails Sierra Fernandez having a weakness for cute stuff like this, but then again this is why I want to go out with her. To discover what else lies between a perfect baseball throwing technique and Hello Kitty socks.
Once I’m sure she’s not going to twist her ankles out there, I put my hands on my thighs and meet her eyes again. “Ready?”
“I’m not sure.” Her shoulders rise toward her ears. “This seemed like a fun idea fifteen minutes ago, but now that I have knives under my feet I’m not so sure.”
Slowly, I rise to stand on my own knives and offer my hand. “I won’t let you get hurt.”
Sierra stares at my hand for a moment, until my skin startsto itch. Finally, she places her gloved one on top. “And you won’t make fun of me?”
“That, I can’t promise.” I grin.
After a long sigh, Sierra pushes herself off the bench and stands. She wobbles slightly and I hold tighter onto her hand, but that’s all the help she needs up until she’s right at the edge between the flooring and the ice. There, she pauses like she’s deciding whether to jump off a cliff.
“I wore braces in high school,” she says in a mumble out of the blue. “If all that effort goes to waste tonight, I’ll hold you financially responsible.”
I snort a laugh. “Is the great Sierra Fernandez chickening out?”
“Absolutely not.” She lifts her chin, slides one skate on the ice, and promptly loses her balance.
I catch her in my arms, easily pulling her against me. Her hands clasp on my jacket at my sides and she keeps her face buried in my chest. I leave my hands wrapped around her arms, trying my best to behave like a gentleman. No doubt she can feel the rapid slamming of my heart against her face, though.
“You okay?” I whisper.
Sierra’s response is muffled against my chest. With a deep breath, she pulls away enough to look up at me. Her eyes are wide, lips parted in surprise. “Oh my gosh, this is so much more slippery than I expected.”
It takes my brain a moment to process what she’s saying, where we’re at, and who I even am. “Ah, yes. You uh, get used to it.”
“Will I?” She cringes.
I move back carefully, still keeping my hands on her arms as anchors. “If I can do it, so can you.”
“Says the guy who was probably born wearing skates.” She looks down at her feet and that makes her tense even more.
“Look at me.” For once, Sierra obeys. “First of all, that would’ve been too painful for my mom. Second, I had to learn like everybody else. Third, you don’t need to be a professional of any sort to have fun. Loosen up, Sierra.”
Her eyes widen almost comically. “Have you met me? I’m the most wound up person in the planet. I don’t know how to do that.”
“Yes, you do.” My eyes lower to her lips as she bites them. She’s loosened up in my arms before, when we made out under a mistletoe as if nothing else mattered. Or even when she threw felt-wrapped baseballs at a velcro tree. “You’re capable of so much more than you think.”
I skate backwards, pulling her along. Sierra gasps and clutches at my forearms with all her strength, but she doesn’t let go. She doesn’t fall. For a blissful moment, it’s just the two of us gliding down the ice. I’m happy to do all the effort as long as she doesn’t let go—and she doesn’t, even as I slide my grasp down her arms to hold her hands.
