Page 61 of When Love Takes The Ice

“What do you think about Em moving back to Seattle? I mean, I guess that’s what they’ll end up doing?”

“I’m happy for her,” Maddison says. “She’s waited so long for this. Em and Doug were never a match. I’m going to miss her, but I understand.”

“I can’t believe her and Doug even got together.” I shake my head. Doug Allbright went to school with Taylor and Emmerson in Seattle and later moved to Florida and ended up running into Em, who was single. From what I know, they separated a few months before they came on vacation to Seattle.

“Yeah, they made it last a few years,” she says. “But I don’t think she ever truly got over Taylor.”

“It was the same for him. Love is a strange thing,” I say. I wonder for a moment if I said the words out loud, and when I see her eyes flick to mine, I realize I obviously did.

“It definitely makes people do wacky things sometimes,” she agrees.

“What’s the wackiest thing you’ve done for love?” I ask her candidly, realizing I might overstep the mark with my questions, but since we have limited time together, I want to learn as much about her as I can.

She laughs tentatively, not like she doesn’t want to answer, but like she’s thinking about how to respond.

Finally, she shrugs. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in love,” she says. “Not enough anyway to do anything crazy.”

I contemplate this for a moment. It feels good to hear her say that. Not that I would ever expect she hasn’t had dozens of guys throwing themselves at her feet.

“Never?” I clarify.

She shakes her head. “I dated a lot when I was younger and had more time. I’ve had two serious relationships since then. The last one we broke it off a while back. I haven’t dated much since.”

“Wow,” I say.

“What about you?” she asks.

A little smile plays on my lips. “Me?” I sigh. “I can’t honestly say I’ve had a girlfriend in a while. With traveling so much, it’s difficult. Our love lives are quite similar in that regard. I had a girlfriend about a year back, but we didn’t have the connection I hoped for.” I know I’m probably telling her too much. Maybe I should leave some things out, but I don’t want to.

“What was it you hoped for?” she asks, resting her elbow on the table, looking at me interestedly.

I like the fact that she wants to know and isn’t afraid to ask.

I can’t help myself when I stretch my hand across the table and place it over the top of hers, squeezing it. “Something like this,” I tell her. “Something exactly like this.”

CHAPTER 13

Ashton

My fascination with this woman doesn’t falter during the course of the night. She drives to the place I rented not too far from the auction house; a taxi dropped me off earlier when I got off the train. It amuses me to see she drives a pink Barbie-style Jeep. She eases through the evening traffic, and I love how confident she is in her own space, navigating the city with a calm air and grace.

The bungalow I rented is small but new and contemporary, and a stroll from the beach. Of course, I’d love for her to stay with me, but I don’t want to be too presumptuous about where she sleeps.

I try to keep things casual between us, even though I want to give her an amazing time in the huge bed up in the loft above the living space.

I, of course, still have images of her wrapped around me at the auction house. I love the fact she was comfortable enough with me to take the risk, knowing we could get sprung.

I change my clothes before we take a walk along the beach and then head over to her place. Nighttime looms, and the scent in the air is everything I remember growing up, even if I was ina different part of Florida. It’s tropical and balmy, with hints of citrus, sand, and coffee. I still have such good memories of my early years here and discovering how to skate. I try not to let what happened later on taint the fact that the rink was fun. My dad worked away from home a lot when they were still together as young kids, so we spent most of our time with our mother.

We talk a little about our families on the walk, and it turns out her parents had a bad divorce out of the blue a few years ago, and I sense it’s still something she struggles with.

Although she says she remains close to her mom, her relationship with her dad has changed since the split. She doesn’t tell me what happened exactly, but I’m reading between the lines that it came as a shock.

I know all too much about how hard that can be, no matter what age you are.

“I was close to my parents before the split,” she tells me as we’re driving to her place. I’ve no idea where we’re going for dinner tonight, but I’m happy for her to show me around her town. “But things went south after that with my Dad. He initiated the divorce.”

“I know how that feels,” I tell her. “My parents split when I was in high school. The custody arrangements stipulated I had to live with my Father, even though I didn’t want to.”

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