Novadian.
Russian.
Curse words in English.His whistles echoing across the ice. His reputation echoed farther, until it shattered. I push harder and faster. The damp cold air stings my lungs.
Good. Pain silences memories.
I spin into a tight turn and skate backward around the rink. My blood pumps at a furious pace and it feels so good everything blurs. I’m free. Push, push.
The world tilts as I lose my edge and overcorrect. Ice rushes toward my back, but just in the nick of time, strong arms catch me and flip me over.
His back hits the ice.
My eyes squeeze shut, bracing for impact.
My chest lands on a solid wall of muscle.
His hands wrap around my waist.
When I open my eyes, I’m staring at a pair of eyes I’ve seen so many times but not from two inches away. Amusement flashes in his blue eyes.
“Annika?”
“Parker?” A jolt runs through me.
At the same time, we both say, “You skate?”
Surprised to see him here is an understatement. For asecond neither of us moves. His fingers moving slightly against the small of my back.
His heart pounds under my hands. My breath fogs between us. Nerves skitter up my spine. Parker wears a black Armadillo team athletic shirt stretched across his shoulders.
No football helmet. No pads. Just Parker O’Ryan looking dangerously handsome lying flat on his back. His hair, loose and uncontrolled.
I scramble to stand feeling uncomfortable with our eyes locked, but his hand tightens around my waist, steadying me as I push up. The contact triggers something violent in my nervous system. My body reacts before my brain can stop it.
“Don’t touch me.” The words explode out of me.
Too loud. Slicing.
He bounces back up on his skates. His hands shoot up. “Whoa… okay.”
I stumble backward, chest heaving. With my pulse thundering in my ears, suddenly the rink feels too small.
Too enclosed. Trapped.
Parker’s expression shifts. His brows dip. His lips twist. A flash of concern in his eyes. “That escalated fast. I was trying to keep you from being bruised.” He reaches out.
“I said don’t touch me.”
“You were about to crack your head on the ice.”
“I had it.”
“Pretty sure gravity disagreed.” His dimples flash briefly. I hate those dimples.
We stand there a moment, just breathing.
“You canceled my appointment.”