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“Of course I want to help,” I tell her firmly. “Are you kidding? Even if we didn’t have this whole shit show on the internet. Sign me up.”
Her smile is so wide that it makes my face hurt, but that might just be a general ache from how hard it is not to stare.
“Awesome. Thank you, Ian.”
“I mean, I’m terrible with kids, but still.”
She chuckles. “You’ll be fine.”
“Oi!” Jack shouts suddenly. “The fuck are you doing over there?”
We both watch him stomp off toward the other end of the rink, where a few players are roughhousing against the rails.
I shake my head. “Dumbasses are going to hurt themselves. No plexiglass around the practice rink.”
“Leave it to Jack to play rink mom,” she laughs.
I huff a laugh through my nostrils. “He’s very good at it.”
“You really don’t mind helping out at the play day?”
“What?” My brow furrows. “Of course I don’t mind.” My mouth twitches. “Besides, when have I ever been able to say no to you?”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s been a long time since I’ve put that to the test.”
“Definitely a lot of wheedling to catch up on.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t abuse my power too much.”
“Somehow I highly doubt that,” I snort. “You were always a needy little shit.”
She folds her arms over the railing, resting her chin against them as she smirks. “I think you were just a bit of a pushover.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Total pushover,” she affirms. “I could play you like a fiddle, Ian Chase.”
I don’t tell her I have a sneaking suspicion that she still could, if she wanted.
“That right?”
“One hundred percent, Cupcake.”
I narrow my eyes before letting them drop to her legs, doing the first thing that comes to mind, wrapping my arms around her thighs and pulling her downward until she slides under the railing with a squeak. She falls into my arms in a laugh that sounds more like a squawk, my arms landing under her knees and her shoulders just as her hands wind around my neck to steady herself.
“What the fuck, Ian?”
“Seems like you’re a bigger pushover than I am,” I deadpan.
She snorts as she wiggles out of my hold, grumbling as she falls to her feet on the ice. I hold her steady with an arm around her waist so she doesn’t slip, feeling smug. I should probably be thinking about how it looks, what I’ve just done, but it’s something I wouldn’t have thought twice about ten years ago, so I try not to let myself do that now. Even if she feels much softer and much more…grown-up against me now.
Lila looks flushed, and I can’t help but tease her. “How’s that for being seen?”
“You think you’re so slick.”
“I have my moments.”
I only have a split second to register the calculating look in her eyes before her hand slips under my arm, weaving its way over the back of my jersey until her fingers are teasing the sweaty ends of my hair sticking out of my helmet.
