Page 87 of Merry Me
Oh no.
I didn’t turn. I didn’tneedto turn. My entire bloodstream recognized Easton Maddox the second he entered the rink. It was like my hormones were on high alert.Code red:panty dropper incoming.
“Perfect,” I muttered under my breath. “Just in time to witness my untimely demise.”
He chuckled, the sound far too warm for this much ice. “You look like you’re really thriving out here.”
“Iamthriving,” I said defensively, just as my left foot slid out like it was trying to disown me. I caught myself on the railing, barely. “This is all part of the routine.”
“I figured.”
I almost fell again—flailing, wobbling, one ankle dramatically turning inward—and it suddenly felt like way too much effort to pretend I was anything close to a world-class skater.
“I need a new set of legs, actually,” I admitted, gripping the railing and wobbling like a baby giraffe. “As we both know, I’m very good at a lot of things…but this is apparently not one of them. Makes Lincoln Daniels even more sexy, if you ask me.”
Easton’s eyes flicked to mine, his jaw tightening just slightly. There was a soft, unmistakable growl from somewhere deep in his chest.
Jealousy. Oh, he hated that.
But he didn’t say a word.
Because every warm-blooded human in North America knew Lincoln Danielswassexy. It was a universal truth, like gravity or Mariah Carey owning Christmas.
Instead, Easton wordlessly pulled off his coat, dropped to sit on the nearest bench, and started lacing up his skates with the kind of quiet, efficient skill that made my stomach flip. Which reminded me, unfortunately, of something truly dreadful about him.
He was agreatice-skater.
Not just good.Stupidgood. Like, smooth-as-silk, might’ve been cast in a “Disney on Ice” production kind of good.
He stepped onto the rink and glided a short distance with the grace of a man who had zero business being that smug about it. “Don’t worry,” he called over his shoulder, like he was some knight in fleece armor. “You’ve got me now.”
“Oh great,” I muttered, preparing for death. “Are you going to carry me bridal-style around the rink while I sob into your shoulder?”
He glanced back at me like he was genuinely considering it. “I could. But we both know your pride might not survive.”
“My pride didn’t survive the moment I took a shot of schnapps and agreed to this, actually.”
He skated toward me, fast and smooth, and held out both hands like a damn Disney prince. “Come here.”
I glanced around nervously. Paige’s future in-laws were sipping cider by the heater. My mom was somewhere on the far end chatting up the officiant. MeMaw was trying to convince the DJ to let her perform a dramatic reading of’Twas the Night Before Christmasover a trap beat.
She was already holding the mic. So there was that.
And at least five people weredefinitelystaring at Easton like he’d skated right off a movie screen. Because, well, technically, hehad.
“Nope.”
“Nat.”
“I value my life,” I said, taking a half step back and pressing myself deeper into the wall like I could phase through it and escape.
“Come on,” he said, his voice softer now. Less teasing. “Just trust me.”
Ugh. I hated when he did that…when he dialed the charm down to sincerity. It was disarming. Like a heat-seeking missile aimed directly at my stupid, fluttery heart.
I stared at his hands. They looked warm. Safe.Deceptive.
After a beat too long, I sighed and placed mine in his.
