Page 128 of Torrid Passion
“Well, good for them. I’m going to break every bone in my body.”
“No you won’t,” he chuckles. “I’ll be there. You can hold on to me.”
“Do you know how to skate?” I ask.
“I was born and raised in LA, baby! My cousins, Beckett, Holt and I practically lived in in-line skates on weekends when we were kids. We even packed them when we were on the road.”
“Loki, I’ve never skated in my life.”
“It’s roller blades. Think of it as a bicycle with training wheels.”
“Do I get a helmet, knee pads and elbow pads? Scratch that. Do I get a suit of armor?”
“Neither of those will work with the outfit.”
Huh?
“What outfit?”
“It’s Saturday afternoon…”
“Uh… I think I figured that part out.”
“At Dreamland Skaters from one to four it’s Shake Your Booty Disco Saturday!” he says that in his best radio voice.
He’s lost it.
“Oh, no. No, no, no.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” he insists.
“I’m not wearing clothing or skates someone else wore.”
“I knew you’d say that, my sexy little dumpling.”
“You’re having way too much fun here. At my expense, may I point out.”
“Nonsense. This day is all about you, which is why I came prepared.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What have you been up to?”
“Let’s go inside and you’ll find out,” he grins from ear to ear.
* * *
Twenty minutes later I’m holding onto walls as if my life depended on it. I struggle to make my way from the change room to the floor. I’m literally moving at a snail’s pace, hugging walls and grabbing onto anything not to fall flat on my ass. I’m so focused on my feet, I don’t see Loki standing there.
“Hey, sexy disco queen. What’s shaking?” he calls out.
I make sure I’m stable on both feet, gripping the seat of a chair so hard, my knuckles turn white, before looking up.
When I finally look up, I explode in laughter.
I laugh and laugh and laugh to the point of tears. He just stands there in a goofy pose evocative of the seventies.
“Wh—what are you wearing?” I manage between fits of laughter.
“You don’t like the outfit?” he asks.
