Read Christmas in the Rink for Free Online Page B

chance.
    He was back before she had a chance to pop a marshmallow on both sticks, the guitar slung across his shoulder. He set it against the couch, and she handed him a stick.
    She settled cross-legged on the wood floor while his long legs stretched out to the side, both their rods dangling over the glowing embers in the fireplace.
    Annabelle’s giggles floated in from the bathtub along with her mother’s hushed tone.
    Sizzles and crackles saturated the space with the scent of spruce and melting marshmallows. In the corner of the room, their new tree almost reached the ceiling. Draped with popcorn and cranberry strings, and loaded with pinecones and colorful bulbs, the limbs sagged with the extra weight of cotton candy blue, lemon yellow, and red striped canes.
    “Your house feels so comfortable. Peaceful.” His voice broke the stillness.
    She heard the words he didn’t say, the pain wrapped up in longing in his tone. “Unlike yours?”
    He nodded, his gaze focused on the dying embers while he swiveled his rod. “Yeah. I don’t really ever remember a time living there that I didn’t feel pressure.”
    She angled her head to study his profile. “Pressure? About what?”
    “Skating. Always skating.”
    “But your mom was constantly—” Oh. Her lips rounded, and one hand fluttered to cover her open mouth. He’d left right after his mom died. She gulped.
    Her marshmallow caught fire, and he tugged both sticks back to blow on them. His brows hiked as his gaze caught hers, the hardness to his jaw revealing that the line of conversation was closed. “Just the way you still like them, right?”
    “Yeah.” She tried to squelch the tiny bud of satisfaction that after all these years, he still remembered a little thing like that, but couldn’t. Tried to ignore the lonely ache she heard in his tone, but couldn’t do that, either.
    She layered the graham crackers and the chocolate on paper plates and they built their s’mores. They ate, the only noise in the room the occasional pop from the simmering wood.
    “Mmmm.” She finished hers and before she could reach for a napkin, Conner nudged her chin up.
    “You have chocolate right…” His thumb brushed her cheek, but his gaze settled on her lips. “…here.” His tone came out husky, and his eyes darkened. His face moved closer, one palm braced against the floor, while his thumb continued to wreak havoc with her heartbeat.
    “Do I?” she barely breathed the words. Her palm reached up to cover the hand cradling her cheek.
    He edged nearer, his chocolate-y marshmallow breath inviting her closer. She complied, definitely not breathing now. Her lids fluttered shut and her lips parted, anticipation popping in her pulse like the embers burning in the fireplace…
    “An Chaney! An Chaney! Grandma said I could get another goodnight kiss.” Pajama padded feet scampered across the hardwood and skidded to a stop at the entrance to the family room.
    Chaney lurched back, her lids zapping up just in time to see Conner’s lips curve in amusement.
    Her gaze flitted to her mother.
    Carole’s arms were folded across her chest, her shoulder resting against the doorframe, a smile lighting her face.
    Willing her heart rate to slow to its normal tempo, Chaney shot her mother a fake glare and cleared her throat. “Sure thing, sweetie. Come here.” She opened her arms, and Annabelle scurried across the floor for another hug. Chaney kissed the top of her head, the fresh, clean toddler scent removing the vestige of their almost kiss, the moment broken. She patted the diapered bottom. “Goodnight this time, all right?”
    “All right.” The girl agreed, breaking free to give Conner another hug.
    Chaney sighed. Just where she’d hoped to be. In Conner’s arms. But she could hardly be jealous of her niece, could she? She gave her head a little shake, banishing that emotion, silently scolding herself. She was grateful that he didn’t seem to mind Annabelle barging in on them. He