Page 36 of Daddies on Ice
Tish rises last.
She looks composed, but I can see the adrenaline humming under her skin.
Her hand brushes the top of the seat and lingers there for balance. I want to take it in mine and assure her everything will be okay.
But I don’t.
A few days ago, I would have, before my feelings for her became so out of control. But then, maybe I always felt this way but buried those feelings because of Trent.
“Step down for me,” I tell the girls. Becky nods and hops. Krystal places each foot like a chess piece on the RV steps. They plant themselves against Tish’s side as they pull on their coats, and I take one step back to give her space then realize I don’t want space at all.
“You cold?” I ask.
She shakes her head then admits, “A little.” Her breath fogs in front of her and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
The wind lifts it right back out and it floats for a moment against her cheek.
I have a sudden image of that hair spread over a pillow, and I shudder with just how much I wish that was true.
I pull off my beanie and set it on her head before my good sense intervenes. “Here. Warm up.”
She blinks then laughs softly. Damn she looks so cute!
Her nose is already turning red from the cold, but the way my beanie sits, cupping her face because it’s too big for her head, makes her dark blue eyes seem to glitter against the weak sunlight.
Jerking my attention away from Tish, I make sure everyone is off the RV and away from the road, then call the Thunderwolves bus while Coach argues on his phone with dispatch.
He listens, jaw locked, then steps away and speaks with the clipped patience I’ve heard on the ice a million times.
Grant picks up after the third ring. “We’ve had a blowout,” I say, not bothering to offer a greeting. We have a game tonight, so time is of the essence. “Circle back and pick up first line.”
“Can’t,” he answers, “Damn bus overheated. We’re giving it some time to cool off before we decide whether to call for a tow.”
“Damn it,” I mutter and disconnect the call.
I pocket my phone. It’s stupid cold out today and as the wind swirls around me, that cold bites into my cheeks.
When I turn, Tish is standing with the girls near the RV steps, turning in slow circles and taking pictures of the bus and surrounding area with her phone.
“You’re already working,” I comment, not sure what else to say but wanting to talk to her. Even if it is mundane.
She shows me the caption she’s drafted:Everyone’s safe. One tire down on the way to our first stop. We’ll keep you posted. Hear the howl.There’s not a single word in there that can be twisted into some kind of scandal.
I nod. “Post it.”
She does. Her fingers tremble for a second when she hits send. I pretend not to see it.
Then her hand drops and she exhales, and for a moment we just stand in the cold together, not touching, but I swear there are sparks zinging between us.
Probably wishful thinking on my end, though. She sees me as a big brother, like Trent. Not boyfriend material.
I step back toward the front of the RV to put some space between me and Tish, and to get my head on straight.
This…desire for her is not right. It’s always been there, but until recently I’ve been able to keep it boxed away.
But lately, that hasn’t been so easy to do. Lately, every time I see her, I want to be closer to her, wrap her in my arms, and kiss her until she’s breathless.
I glance back where Tish stands near the girls. I’m doomed. Even trying to put distance between us, I still can’t keep my eyes off her.
