“I’ll stop before I show you the construction stuff,” Cole quipped.
“Is that how you stayed involved with your old sport?” a ninth grader asked.
“Yup.” Cole flashed a smile. “We repaved the ground outside the arena.”
From her position a little removed from the crowd, Marisa sighed because Cole had a natural ability to connect with kids. He was effortlessly cool, and she was...not. Some things never changed.
Cole winked at her, shaking her out of her musings. “And if you’re all good, there might also be an appearance by Jordan Serenghetti—”
The kids let out whoops.
“—who is having a great season with the Razors. But more important, in my opinion, he’s having an even better life as my younger brother.”
Everyone laughed.
Marisa thought Jordan would dispute Cole’s assessment if he were there.
After Cole gave the kids a tour of the parts of the arena that he had referred to, he led the group to the ice rink.
As everyone laced up their skates, Marisa overheard a couple of the kids talking about her with Cole. When they mentioned to him that she was a fantastic cook, she felt heat rush to her face.
She hung back and skated onto the ice after everyone else. She was wearing tights and a tunic-length sweater so her movements weren’t restricted, but she hadn’t been on skates in a long time. She became aware of Cole watching her, hands in pockets, as the others glided around.
“I wasn’t sure what to expect,” he said.
She continued to skate at a leisurely pace, now only a few feet away from him. “I’ve had ice-skating lessons.”
He arched a brow.
“It’s New England. Everyone assumes you know how to stay upright on the ice.”
To underscore her words, she did several swizzles, her legs swerving in and out.
“Looks like you did more than learn how to stay upright,” Cole commented. “Where did you learn?”
“At the rec center outside Welsdale,” she admitted, slowing. “It opened when we were kids, and they gave free lessons.”
“I know. My father built it.”
She stared at him and then gave an unsurprised laugh. “I should have guessed.”
She thought a moment, concentrated and then gaining speed, did a scratch spin. Glancing back at Cole, now meters away, she shrugged and added, “I picked up a few moves.”
She wasn’t sure how many moves she could still do, but it seemed that as with riding a bike, some skills she’d never lose.
“So when did you change course from budding skating star to top-notch teacher?” Cole asked as he skated toward her.
She shrugged again. “We didn’t have the money for me to pursue the sport seriously. It would have meant lessons, costumes and travel expenses. When I was accepted to Pershing, I had to concentrate on getting good grades in order to keep my scholarship.”
She tensed as soon as the word scholarship was out of her mouth because they were close to the big bugaboo topic between them. Still, the truth was that Cole had gotten to play in the NHL while she’d received her coveted scholarship and moved on to teaching—a nice, stable profession rather than glitz and glory. He’d been able to afford his dreams while she hadn’t.
“I was signed up for figure skating and ice dancing lessons as a kid—”
She laughed because she couldn’t envision Cole doing the waltz—on the ice or off. He was too big...too male.
“—but they didn’t take,” he finished drily.
She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to school her expression. She was a lot better at keeping a straight face in the classroom.