Page 55 of Irresistibly Risky

Ugh.

I can’t stand the uncertainty he breeds within me. He’s like cancer, infiltrating my body, taking over my cells one by one.

I never should have agreed to this. He made me feel seen and beautiful and special, and even though the larger part of me knew better, the smaller, softer part of me began believing that he wanted me beyond Mason.

This is what I didn’t want. This is why feelings are so dangerous in this situation.

I’m jealous, and I have no right or desire to be.

He’s a single man who can date whomever he wants. He can fuck whomever he wants. I shouldn’t factor into that. That’s how this works. That’s what is best for Mason.

I had walked down to his office to tell him that I was going to bring Mason to my mom’s. He didn’t want to go down for his nap, and she called in the middle of my trying and offered to take him for a bit so I could get some ice time. I stopped outside his office when I heard voices, and then I listened as they planned the date. I heard the mention of the beautiful model. I heard someone suggest he get laid, and then I heard Asher say, “Okay, set it up.”

I couldn’t face him after that. I ended up texting him right before I pulled out of the garage, and he hasn’t texted me back to acknowledge it.

Whatever. At least I know the truth now, and thank God nothing else has happened between us. I’ll set firmer ground rules. I’ll start apartment hunting. It’ll be fine.

I inhale a deep breath as icy air fills my lungs, the glow of smooth, white ice a landscape before me. A smile catches on my lips. Gary had the Zamboni do this since I know his players cleared the ice only about twenty minutes ago. I finish lacing up my skates with a bit more gusto than likely needed, but then I push onto the ice, my arms floating on either side of me, my head back, and my eyes closed.

Taylor Swift’s “Enchanted” courses through my ears and into my blood for no other reason than to torture myself. I twist into a spin and then skate backward along the edge of the boards, picking up speed and heading into my first jump. My free leg extends out behind me as I bend my other knee, then I step forward and jump into the air and rotate one and a half times, landing blindly, but no less soundly.

My skates pick up excitement, and I hit center ice where I do all kinds of spins and jumps, going faster and faster until I land a double loop—I used to be able to do triples. It’s solid, and I swirl around until I shift into a sit spin, my hand holding the foot of my blade as I twirl.

I come out of it, my spin slowing as the song ends, and then I shriek at the top of my lungs.

“Shit!” The guy holds his hands out toward me. “I’m sorry. Gary told me you were here, and I wanted to watch you skate. I remember seeing you when you were in the Olympics.”

I press a hand over my racing heart. “It’s fine. I just usually skate without an audience now.”

He grins and steps on the ice toward me. He’s cute. Tall and built with sandy-brown hair and darker eyes. “I get it. I prefer to knock the puck around solo now. I busted up my knee during the Stanley Cup finals my third year in the pros. Never made it back.”

“You had a shitty surgeon then,” I comment, only to grimace. “Sorry!” That feels wrong to say, but he laughs it off.

“Probably. I was a kid and didn’t know better.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m an assistant hockey coach for a D1 team, so I’m still in the game. My name is Heath.”

“Are you going to stay out here and watch me, Heath?”

He smiles. “Actually, I was hoping I could ask you out for dinner tomorrow night instead.”

“Oh.” It comes out in a shocked whisper.

“I’ve seen you on the ice before. I’ve wanted to come and speak to you, but the timing didn’t work out until now.”

My eyebrows hit my hairline, and he nervously runs a hand through his hair.

“So, would you like to go out with me tomorrow night? I know you don’t know me, but I thought it would be fun. Gary mentioned you’re single.”

“Uh.” Well… “I’m also a single mother.”

“He mentioned that too.”

Okay then. I would usually say no. Inherently, I would. He works with Gary and is a man, and I hate men—especially in this moment—but it’s also because of this moment that tempts me to say, “Okay. Dinner tomorrow sounds nice.”

A bright smile blooms on his face. “Great! Can I pick you up?”

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