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“Where is Sillllvester?” she asked. “Ooh, these are heavy.”
“They are,” I told her. “And I don’t—”
I heard him and felt him before I even saw him. The rhythmic shirring sound of skates on ice accompanied a movement of atmosphere that replaced the total stillness of the quiet rink, and I turned to see Sly on the ice, skating an easy circle around the ice and then gradually putting on speed until he was all but flying towards us. He stopped so suddenly I wouldn’t have thought he could stay upright, shearing ice shards that flew toward the opening in the little wall around the rink. “You made it!” He sounded positively gleeful, and some of the wariness I’d been feeling slipped away.
“Silllvesster! My skates are pink!”
“That’s the fastest color,” he said seriously. “You sure you can handle pink? We could have Arnold get you some plain old black ones like mine.” He lifted one of his feet to show her.
She shook her head. “Once I learn, I’ll be faster than you.”
He laughed. “We’ll see.” Then his warm eyes left my daughter, and Sly Remington’s full attention was on me, sending my skin heating and want pooling inside me. His expression tightened, moving from the easy laughter he’d shared with Katie to something else, something darker that made me want to step closer but also warned me away.
“Hi Clara.”
“Hi Sly.”
“You don’t have your skates on.” His voice made me want to crawl toward him on my hands and knees and do whatever he asked of me.
I straightened, standing up to face him and cleared my throat. “I figured I’d let you and Katie get your lesson in first.”
He nodded. “Sure. Your lesson can come later.” There was a deeper meaning in his words, and a light shudder ran through me. Could it be that the desire we feel in youth never really leaves us? Maybe it’s just dormant, gathering strength in the hidden corners of our hearts, waiting to spring to life later with an even fiercer, deeper pulse.
“You ready?” he asked my daughter, reaching for her hand.
She got to her feet carefully, her ankles wobbling as she stood on skates for the first time. “Oh!” she said, sounding surprised.
“Takes a little getting used to. But you have super strong legs, I bet, so you can do it.” He nodded at her, encouragingly.
Katie’s legs straightened a tiny bit, responding to Sly’s suggestion. She picked up one skate and then the other, moving slowly toward his outstretched hand. “Okay,” she said, sounding less confident than she had before.
“Let’s do this,” Sly said, his voice full of encouragement. “You’ll be flying over the ice in no time.”
“You sure?” she asked. Hearing Katie hesitate pulled at my heart. “I think it’s harder than it looks.”
“The best things are,” Sly agreed, stepping through the little door and onto the ice and turning to take both of Katie’s hands. “Just step on out here and we’ll figure it out.”
She did, so tentatively my heart squeezed with the fierce desire to go gather her into my arms and protect her. But this wasn’t a real threat, and I knew Sly would take care of her. It was strange, realizing that. I trusted him with my daughter in a way I had never really trusted Zach, her own father.
I watched as he moved slowly backwards and she took her first skating steps. And then, as she got the feel of it, her steps became glides, until eventually, they were moving in a somewhat shaky circle around the ice and I felt myself relax.
Sly wore loose-fitting workout pants that hugged his butt and thighs, moving with his muscles as he flexed and shifted, and a short-sleeved T-shirt that was snug across his chest. Combined with the hockey skates, the carelessly waved dark hair, and the smile he was aiming at the little girl before him, he was the hottest guy I’d ever seen, and I found myself wishing for the same attention he was giving Katie.
He was kind and gentle as he talked to her and helped her find the right stance. His voice was low and encouraging, and though I couldn’t hear all his words from where I sat, I heard the rumbling scratch of them, and it set parts of me aflame.
Here was a man who I’d never really thought I might have, treating my daughter so much better than her own father ever had. Taking time with her, being kind and patient. This was the kind of man I wanted.
Not the kind of man, my heart corrected. The man.
This was the man I wanted.
And that was a problem. Sly Remington was not a father figure. He wasn’t a doting boyfriend or a potential husband. He didn’t live here, and the life he had didn’t fit the world we actually lived in.
Even as I watched him with Katie, I thought of the photos I’d seen of him with women—puck bunnies, I think they called them. Young, beautiful, shiny in a very specific kind of way that I thought took a lot of hours in front of a mirror and very small clothes. If those women were the kind he liked...why was he flirting with me?
Or was it all part of a game to him?
Sly shot me a smile then, catching my eyes as he skated backwards around the ice, holding Katie’s hands. And in that instant, the fears and concerns I had backed away into the dark closet where I kept them. And the warm wanting of him returned.
