It Started with a Cowboy Page 7

  “Great,” she answered, her palms already sweating as she clutched her tote bag in her lap. What had she been thinking? Not that cute? Holy hot buckets of gorgeous. His jacket pulled across the defined muscle of his bicep as he leaned over the seat to make sure all the kids got buckled in, and she wanted to run her hand along the side of his arm.

  He pulled back so his face was even with hers and offered her a grin. “Thanks for the cupcakes. We do good work. They were amazing.”

  He was amazing. The scent of cinnamon gum mixed with his aftershave, and she wanted to close her eyes and bask in the pure masculine scent of him as she melted into her seat. But that would be weird, right? Yes, definitely weird.

  “You’re welcome,” she finally managed to say.

  “I’ve got good news.” With everyone buckled in, he put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking lot. “I called the league, and they said we can absolutely have girls on the team. In fact, they encourage it. But there has to be a female coach on the roster and at the games and practices.”

  A cheer went up from the back seat.

  “That’s great,” Chloe said. “But why do you need a female coach? Don’t you treat all the kids the same when you teach them to play?”

  “Yeah, of course. It’s not that. It’s just because the kids will be in different locker rooms. So Maddie will need someone to be in the girl’s locker room with her and to take her to the bathroom if she needs help, and whatever other dark, mysterious things women do.”

  “I can go to the bathroom by myself,” Madison stated. “I’m not a baby.”

  “I know, honey. I think Mr. Colt just meant like if you were sick or something,” Chloe said, smoothing over his statement. “So who are you going to find to help you coach at such late notice?”

  He pulled up to the stoplight, then turned toward her and raised one eyebrow.

  She held up her hands. “Oh, no. Not me. You’ve got to be kidding. I don’t know the first thing about hockey. The only game I’ve ever seen was the charity alumni game that you played with your brothers last summer.”

  “Well then, you do know something about hockey. You’ve at least seen a game.”

  “But I don’t know anything about the rules or how to play. I don’t even know how to score.”

  A playful grin covered his face. “I can teach you how to score.”

  Oh, for fritter’s sake. Had she really said that? Heat flamed in her cheeks, and she peered out the front windshield. “The light’s green.”

  She didn’t look at him, but she heard him chuckle as he turned his head back to the road and drove through the intersection.

  “If you were on our hockey team, then you’d get to be our coach and our teacher,” Max pointed out. He had a gift for stating the obvious.

  “Oh please, Miss Bishop,” Maddie pleaded. “I really want to play hockey with Max’s team. It would be so fun. And you don’t have anything else to do.”

  Chloe turned in her seat, thankful to no longer be talking about her lack of scoring knowledge. “How do you know?”

  The girl rolled her eyes and let out a sigh that gave Chloe an early indication of how she was going to act as a teenager. “Because I live next door to you. And I know you’re always home. Plus, you have time to knit scarves for every kid in our class.”

  Point taken. She glanced over at Colt. “Why not one of the moms whose kid is on the team? Or how about Quinn? She knows everything about hockey, and she’s good at this kind of stuff.”

  “She already said no.”

  Chloe’s shoulders fell as she slumped back in her seat. “Oh great. A second ago, I didn’t even want to do it, but now I’m somehow miffed about being your second choice.”

  “You’re my first choice,” Maddie said.

  “Mine too,” Max agreed.

  They pulled up in front of her house, and Colt put the SUV in park. He turned to her and grinned. “Mine too.”

  Dang. Why did his grin turn her insides to mush? Still, she wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily. She gave him her best teacher stare.

  “Just because Quinn said she wouldn’t do it doesn’t mean she was my first choice. She was just there at my mom’s when I was on the phone with the league at lunch. And she told me to count her out as soon as I hung up. She didn’t give me a chance to tell her I already had someone else in mind.”

  “Good save. Although if you had asked her, she might have changed her mind and decided to do it. Women are funny like that.”

  Colt smiled but wisely chose not to comment.

  “Please say you’ll do it,” Maddie begged. “It’ll be fun.”

  Chloe held her hands up in surrender. “Okay, fine. I’ll do it.” Her stomach did another flip as Colt’s face broke into a smile. “Except I have one slight problem.”

  “What’s that?” Colt asked.

  “I don’t know how to skate.”

  “Oh, that’s no problem,” Maddie said matter-of-factly. “Neither do I.”

  Chapter 6

  Later that night, Chloe found herself standing outside the ice arena while she waited for Colt to unlock the door. Her breath froze in the air as she blew on her hands and stamped her feet.

  What had she gotten herself into this time? It was past nine, and she was out with a man she barely knew. And it was a school night.

  She should be home in bed, her cat curled up on her shoulder, her newest paperback propped on her chest. Except now, instead of reading about a heroine having an adventure with an oh-so-hot cowboy, she was actually having the adventure herself.

  It didn’t feel real. Yet every moment she’d accidentally brushed against him or he’d touched her back to help her into his truck seemed to hang in the air, suspended in a flash of time she wanted to grab on to and stick into her pocket to keep and bring out later to examine and touch and relive.

  He hadn’t come in when he’d dropped her home after school, but he’d said he would pick her up that night for her first skating lesson. She had done all her work and graded her papers early, then sat down for a light dinner—or what should have been dinner but had instead been twenty minutes of pushing her food around on the plate because she was too nervous to eat. She hoped her stomach didn’t growl during the lessons. It already felt like it had a horde of grasshoppers hopping and flipping around inside it.

  Why had she agreed to this dumb idea? She’d googled the rules of hockey that afternoon, but no amount of internet searching could teach her how to skate. Which was exactly what she’d told Colt that night when he’d come to pick her up. He’d said it didn’t matter. He would teach her. He’d assured her he could teach anyone to skate.

  Well, he hadn’t seen her skate. She had made one hideously embarrassing attempt back in high school and hadn’t tried again since. She was fairly certain he was overestimating his skating-lesson expertise since he hadn’t had her as a student.

  She’d also tried to tell him she didn’t have any skates, but he’d said they could borrow a pair at the rink. He’d easily knocked down that argument, just as he had every other argument she’d tried to come up with as to why this was a really bad plan. It seemed the guy wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  Colt unlocked the door and held it open for her. The arena was dark inside, so he flipped on the light switch next to the door.

  “Where is everybody?” Chloe whispered, which was dumb because her question had just established that no one else was around. So why was she whispering?

  “The rink closes at nine. But I’ve got a buddy who works here, and I offered to run the Zamboni and clean the ice tonight if he let me have the rink for a private lesson.”

  She gulped. Why did private lesson sound so dirty and delicious when Colt said it? The guy was seriously so good-looking. And with that deep voice and the flirty spin he put on his words, everything that came out of h
is mouth sounded sexy. He could ask her to pass the salt, and she swore she would swoon.

  Which was one more reason why this whole idea of Colt being interested in her was so ridiculous. Sure, he oozed charm, and it sometimes felt like he was flirting with her, but the more time she spent around him, the more she realized he was simply a charming guy who acted that way with everyone. He’d tipped his hat and grinned at the mom who had crossing guard duty that afternoon when he’d picked them up from school, and the woman had almost tripped off the curb.

  He was just that kind of guy—attractive, polite, and nice to everyone. Heck, he probably flirted with the grocery store clerk and the waitress at the diner, but she didn’t see them going off all half-cocked imagining they had a chance at a relationship with him.

  Oh, for heaven’s sake. Who said anything about a relationship? She was standing in an ice arena. She needed to chill out. What did it matter what his intentions were, or if he was just being nice or wanting to be her friend? Why not just enjoy the attention of a hot cowboy and quit overanalyzing every moment they spent together?

  She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her coat. “What’s a Zamboni? And how do you clean the ice? Like with Windex?”

  He broke into laughter. “I do like you, Chloe Bishop. You make me laugh.”

  Heat flamed in her cheeks and up her spine. Stop it. He said he liked her because she made him laugh, which was exactly the thing to say to a friend. He didn’t say he liked her because she made his heart race or his lips tingle because he wanted to kiss her so bad.

  Oh geez. He didn’t say that, because nobody says that. Lips tingle? For crying out loud. Did that even happen? Maybe she had read too many romance novels.

  Walking through the lobby of the arena, Chloe marveled at the display cases filled with trophies and at how many times she saw Rock’s name. “Your brother has really done a lot for this arena.”

  “Yeah, it was pretty run-down when we skated here as kids. He said if he ever made it big, he was going to renovate the place and put in a nice sheet of ice.”

  “So, he did all this?” She noted the new carpet, the shiny aluminum bleachers, and the glossy wood countertops of the skate-rental window.

  “Nah. He’s not that generous. But he donated a huge sum, and the town put up quite a bit for it too. Our family and several others really wanted the hockey and figure-skating programs for the kids to continue and flourish, so we did a ton of fund-raising to help make it happen.”

  Chloe had only been back in town the past three years, and the skating rink had already been finished by then.

  Colt carried a duffel bag containing his skates and dropped it on the floor next to the skate-rental booth. “The Zamboni is down here,” he said, opening a door next to the booth that led down a hallway and into a large room. The floors were concrete, and rows of workbenches and pegboards neatly hung with tools covered the back wall. The cavernous space was a cross between a workshop and a garage and probably ten degrees cooler than the ice arena had been.

  She shivered as Colt walked toward a machine that looked like a giant rectangular box with wheels. On the back end, it had one seat in front of a steering wheel and another smaller backward-facing seat next to it.

  He patted the side of the machine. “This is our Zamboni. We call her Bertha. She’s the one who does the heavy lifting when it comes to actually cleaning the ice. In layman’s terms, she sprays water on the ice, then shaves off the top layer and collects the shavings and debris like blood and broken teeth, then sprays another layer of water on top, which freezes into a perfectly smooth ‘clean’ sheet of ice.”

  Chloe wrinkled her nose. “Blood and broken teeth?”

  He grinned. “Hockey humor.” He opened the big doors in front of the machine. “They had practice in here tonight so I thought we’d clean the ice before your lesson. That way, you’ll have smooth ice to learn on and not have to worry about chips or dents that could trip you up.”

  “I appreciate that. But did you say ‘we’ would clean the ice?”

  “Yep. I’ll drive, but you can ride next to me.”

  “I’m not getting on that thing.”

  “Oh come on. We’ve actually made good money auctioning off chances to ride on the Zamboni between periods. It’s perfectly safe. The thing tops out at twelve miles an hour, but I’ll keep it down to an even five.”

  Chloe eyed the small cushioned seat on the back.

  He reached into the front of his jacket and pulled a small silver thermos from the inside pocket. “I figured you might be nervous about tonight, so I brought you a little liquid courage.”

  Oh dear. She’d been hoping for hot chocolate when she saw the thermos, but now worried it contained something more ominous. “What does that mean?”

  Colt chuckled. “Nothing crazy. Don’t worry. It’s just some of my mom’s homemade strawberry wine. I mixed it with a little lemonade, so it’s not real potent, but it may be able take the edge off your nerves.”

  “I’m not much of a drinker.” Although strawberry wine mixed with lemonade hardly had an ominous ring to it.

  “Neither am I.” He opened the lid and the scent of strawberries, with a hint of lemon, filled the air. “I promise, it’s not that strong. It’s probably on par with a wine cooler.”

  She’d tried a wine cooler at a barbecue that summer just to see what it was like. Her face had flushed and she’d gotten a little giggly, so she’d stopped after two. It’s not that she never drank; she’d only done so sparingly and with abysmal results. Like the time she’d had a couple of glasses of wine at a teacher function and had ended up with a terrible headache the next day. No time that she’d tried drinking had ever seemed like it had been worth it.

  Her philosophy of controlling her surroundings included her body, and she knew the effects of alcohol when it came to losing control.

  Chloe peered into the cup as he poured the pink liquid. She wasn’t so sure about this. Then again, she wasn’t sure about the whole idea of learning how to ice skate so she could help coach a sport she knew virtually nothing about. When she looked at it that way, what could one little cup of strawberry-flavored courage hurt?

  “You said your mom made this?”

  He handed her the cup. “Yeah, but it’s my aunt Sassy’s recipe. She and my mom make up a batch every summer.”

  She swirled the liquid around and took a small sniff. “So it’s like moonshine?” She conjured up an image of Vivienne James and Colt’s aunt Sassy running an illegal still in the mountains behind the ranch. In her mind, they both had on overalls and floppy felt hillbilly hats, and Sassy was smoking a corncob pipe as Vivi filled a crockery jug with homemade liquor.

  “I’d say it’s more like sunshine.”

  She took a deep breath. She wouldn’t know if she didn’t try it. And what if all this time, her stupid life motto of playing it safe was just that…stupid? What if her motto was really just an excuse to not have to try anything new?

  Oh, to heck with playing it safe. What was an adventure anyway, without a bit of risk? She offered Colt a brave smile. “Bottoms up, or down, or whatever that saying is.” She took a tentative sip, then tossed back the drink.

  It was surprisingly good. The sweet flavor of strawberry mingled with the tart taste of lemon. It didn’t really taste like alcohol—except for the slight prickle in her throat and the warm feeling in her chest.

  “It tastes like Kool-Aid. With a kick.” She held out the cup, hoping he didn’t notice the slight tremble in her hand. If she was going for brave, she might as well go all in. “I’ll have another, please.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You sure?”

  She nodded. “I’m sure I’m very nervous, so yes. Just one more.”

  “Okay.” He refilled the small cup, and she drank this one a little slower. But it was so delicious, it didn’t take her long to finish. She hande
d him the cup and patted the side of the Zamboni. “Okay. I think I’m ready to conquer Big Bertha now.” She studied the back of the machine. “How do I get up there?”

  Colt laughed as he helped her climb up into the seat, then settled into the driver’s seat next to her.

  Her face was flushed, but she thought it had more to do with the feel of his hands on her waist as he helped her up than the effects of the strawberry wine. Or maybe it was a little bit of both. “Where are the seat belts on this thing?”

  She might be giving in to a little alcohol, but she hadn’t completely lost her senses. Although they were becoming quite disoriented by the scent of Colt’s aftershave as he leaned over to snap the seat belt across her hip.

  “There you go. You’re buckled in, but if you get nervous, you can hold on to me.” He winked at her as he started the engine.

  They pulled out onto the ice, and she grabbed his arm as they slid around the first corner. The Zamboni really didn’t go that fast, but she kept her fingers gripped around his bicep as they took the first lap. By the second circle, she had relaxed a little and was starting to enjoy the ride. It was fun to see the shiny, smooth layer of ice appear beneath her feet.

  Colt finished the ice and pulled back into the garage and cut the engine. He turned to face her. “Well, what did you think?”

  “I liked it.” She bounced a bit in her chair. “And this seat is great. I could feel the engine under it, and the rumbling gave me tingles in my cupcake.”

  His eyes widened, and a grin spread across his face. “Your cupcake?”

  Chloe clapped her hands over her mouth. “Did I say that out loud?”

  “Oh, yeah you did.”

  “Son of a birthday.”

  He laughed and helped her down from the Zamboni. “Let’s go get you some skates.”

  She followed him back to the skate-rental booth.

  “What size shoe do you wear?”

  She told him, and he handed her a pair of white figure skates. “You usually go one size smaller than your shoe size. You can try these tonight and hockey skates next time to see which work better for you, then we can get you a pair of your own.”