The Inside Edge: Chapter Five
Her short hair whipped
sharply against her cheeks, the cold air swirling, biting at her neck and escaping
from her mouth in cloudy puffs as she raced forward. Her body seemed to rock
back and forth, back and forth, swaying naturally as she settled into position,
her legs pumping gracefully against the translucent gleam of frozen water underneath
her feet.
The edge of the pond
came in sight, the perimeter mounded with the bulk of half-frozen snow. Twirling,
her skates zigged and zagged as she flew backward, her movements rhymical as
the air rushed at her from behind, her legs only shifting at the last minute,
cutting elegantly into the ice, her body a delicate reed blowing effortlessly
with the motion as she came to a quick, hard stop.
For a moment, she poised
that way, her arms swanned out demurely at her sides, her head tilted to a defiant
angle, her legs standing straight and sure on the frozen ground.
“You did it!”
At the words, Brianne’s
lips pulled apart. Spinning around, her hands curling into fists, she pumped the
air. Her skates jumped a little on the ice. “I did it!” she cried, closing her
eyes to savor the moment. “I did it!”
“I’m so damn proud of
you.”
With a pop, her eyes re-opened.
Staring up at the face, those incredibly brown eyes, bent so close to hers, her
green eyes blazed in reaction When his arms snaked around her waist, Brianne
responded by settling her hands against his shoulders.
“Thanks Coach,” she offered,
her voice a mere mist of sound. Arching her back just the slightest bit, her
lips fell open as she reached upward.
“Anytime,” he murmured,
as his mouth descended, crashing against hers—
“Jesus!” With a jerk,
Brianne pulled herself awake. Snapping upright, she leaned back against her
headboard, her knees drawing up tight to her chest with the action. Wrapping her
arms around her legs, she dropped her head forward. The dream rolled across the
canvas of her tightly closed eyes.
“This is what happens
when you go over a year without sex,” she admonished herself, physically
shaking herself clean of the memory, of the dream. Scrambling out of bed, she felt
her lips curling. “I mean, the coach?”
She laughed but there
was nothing of humor in the sound as she yanked her bedroom door open. Shuffling
on the beige carpeting, she crept down the hall to her bathroom. “I mean, the coach?”
It was just a dream.
“Clearly, you need to
get out more,” she muttered. With a flick of her wrist, she turned on the tap
water. Cupping her hands under the facet, she leaned forward, splashing her
face. “Yeah, that’s it.”
Unbidden, the image of
the man in questions flashed across her consciousness. Scowling at the soggy
face glaring back at her, Brianne rolled her eyes. “I mean, okay, so it’s not
like the man’s ugly or anything.”
He had strong, broad
shoulders.
A nice butt.
“Not that I was
looking but…well, on skates and all—”
And she didn’t even
know his damn name.
“No. Enough. Maybe it’s
time,” she informed herself, reaching for a towel to dry her face. “Maybe it’s
time to dry online dating or something.”
Anything.
“Because having sex
dreams about hockey dads,” she made a face. “Come on girl, even you can do
better than that.”
He also had a nice
jawline. Firm but not too square…
“Oh, shut up,” she
muttered to herself, marching back to bed. With a crack, she opened and slammed
the door shut. “Now, it’s going to be all weird when you see him again.”
Luckily, that didn’t
turn out to be quite true. At least, it wasn’t too weird. So yeah, if she was a
bit quiet when she noticed him arrive—and for God’s sake, why’d she have to
notice the moment he stepped foot in the arena, his long legs encased in faded
blue jeans and paired with the habitual sweatshirt and black baseball cap—Brianne
chalked that up to concentration.
According to the boys,
she was making excellent progress.
And if she was a
little hurried in her goodbyes, her eyes carefully watching the clock so as not
to give the coach reason to enter into their skate time and separate her from
her only source of a protection, a gaggle of teenaged defenders, Brianne
assured the boys, who half-heartedly protested her sudden announcement to leave,
that she had work waiting for her
“But it’s Sunday,”
Lucas informed her smugly.
“Yes, well…” Brianne shrugged,
“restaurants are open on Sundays, too, you know.”
Cory tilted his head a
little to one side, his eyes narrowing just slightly on the words. “You work at
a restaurant?”
Gliding alongside the boards,
Brianne nodded as she headed for the far side of the arena, where her exit
awaited.
“As a waitress?”
“They liked to be
called servers, Derrick.”
Derrick rolled his
eyes at George’s reprimand. “Whatever.”
Holding up a hand, Brianne
interceded, as she’d quickly learned to do. When the conversation dipped away
from hockey, the boys tended to—aggravate one another. “No, I’m not a server. I’m
a manager.”
“What restaurant?”
Nearing her destination,
Brianne paused to smile over at Cory. “The Fitz Avery.”
“Oh, I like that
place,” he informed her, his legs easily keeping pace with her movements.
“Who doesn’t like
pizza?” The obviously rhetorical question came from George.
Brianne winked at him.
“And that’s just the kind of attitude we want our customers to have when they
walk in.”
“Are you sure you need
to leave now?” This came from Lucas again, trailing a bit behind them.
Pulling up at the door
leading off the ice, Brianne turned around, her eyes dancing with mischief. “You
just want to delay starting practice.” She wagged a finger playfully. “Don’t
think you’re fooling anyone.”
Lucas ducked his head.
Cory laughed. “See you
next week?”
“Sure.”
With that, she slowly
levered herself off the ice.
“Nice skating, Ms.
Kelling,” Brian said, meeting her halfway to the bleachers. “You’re really catching
the hang of it.”
Smiling from him to
Fred, who seemed to be forever beside the younger man, Brianne nodded. “Thanks.
Yeah, it’s slowly coming back.”
“What is?”
At the sound of his voice,
Brianne felt herself stiffen just slightly. “My skating,” she mumbled. Reaching
the bleachers, she plopped down along the long, wooden bench. Bending down at
the waist, she quickly took to unlacing her ice-skates. A weary sigh wheezed
out of her mouth. “Though…”
Brian. “Though?”
“I mean, I never really meant
to get that good at the sport.”
“Huh?” The question
came from Fred.
Glance up at him
through her bangs, Brianne smiled. “When I stopped here that first time, I just
thought—hey, I haven’t skated in ages. Might be fun.”
From her peripheral
vision, Brianne saw the coach’s lips tug up a little at the words, his arms coming
to rest against his hips. He had nice, tapered fingers—
Nope. No. Not again.
Shaking her head forcefully,
Brianne forcused her attention. “And now I’m getting private lessons. For free.”
“Can’t beat free.”
“Yeah? Only, I don’t
know what I’m going to do with all these skills once I learn them.”
When she felt Fred
kneel down beside her, Brianne realized the atmosphere around them had changed.
“But what about the boys?”
“The boys?”
“They’re learning skills too.”
Brianne nodded slowly
as the weight, the gravity of the words sank through. Neither coach or Brian
spoke, but she noticed that they were paying close attention. Blowing out a
hard breath, she nodded again. “Yes.”
“And what they’re
learning is…well, it’s crucial.”
Brianne pulled her
lips inside her mouth before slowly, carefully nodding. “I know.”
Seemingly satisfied with
her answers, Fred patted her knee once before bouncing back to his feet. Out of
the corner of her she saw Fred and Brian meander off. The coach, however,
stayed back. Determinedly, Brianne went back to her ice-skates. Lending her
mind carefully to the task at hand, she swore she felt his eyes on her down bent
head but she pretended to ignore the fizzle of awareness fluttering against her
stomach.
“You got done early
today.”
Pulling her feet out
of the skates, Brianne nodded as she flexed her toes in their thick socks. “Yeah…”
“I meant what I said
last week.”
“I’m sure you did.”
He grunted. “Well…just
know it’s not necessary.”
Peeking up at him
quickly, she smiled. “Have a good practice.”
He nodded. “Right.”
Turning on his heel, he walked away, his steps taking him unerringly toward the
ice, where the boys were standing, huddled near Brian and Fred. Brianne swallowed
as she watched his steady progress. She’d never before experienced the
sensation of having to forcefully restrain herself from checking out a man’s
butt. She didn’t like it, either.
With a strangled
curse, she reached under the bench for where she’d stashed her shoes earlier in
the afternoon. Slipping them on, she grabbed up her skates.
“Stupid, fucking
dream.”
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