Chapter Six

“You don't have to do this.”

“You're starting to sound like a broken record there, cowboy.”

Shane didn't care. He held firm to Eden's arm, balancing her as they made their way to the homemade ice rink in the backyard.

“I'll be fine. Honest.”

Even though a grin sparkled in her bright blue eyes, her earlier trepidation when he mentioned skating at Rockefeller Center concerned him. Added to the fact she wore an old pair of boy’s hockey skates instead of a better fitting lady's skate. He planned to stick close—very close. How would he explain returning a bruised and battered fiancée back to Brad?

The bruised and battered part definitely wasn't pleasant—but neither was the returning part. Not a thought he was willing to dwell on at the moment, especially when he had more important things to take care of.

Shane stepped onto the ice first. There wasn't a winter day in his childhood memories and beyond that didn't have half the neighborhood out here skating at the homemade 'Gallagher rink'. All his siblings, sisters included, grew up in various hockey leagues.

Holding Eden securely, he stepped over the short rim. “Okay, watch your step here. Hold onto my arm and whoa—” He grabbed for Eden as one of her skates stuck and the other slid out from under her.

Keeping his own balance was a chore as they danced a farcical pirouette. Full gales of her laughter bounced off the glass surface, crashing like a body check into his chest and effectively toppling him onto the ice. Shane ended up on his back with Eden clasped atop his chest.

The tip of her tongue darted out to wet rose-colored lips. “Sorry. I caught my toe on the rim.”

Her infectious giggles fanned his face as the sky blue gaze sparkled down at him. Wet cold seeping into his back slowly brought him back to reality. The reality that this beautiful woman atop him was already taken. Taken by his best friend.

For the only time he could remember, Shane was honestly jealous of Brad.

This was a bad idea all around.

Carefully, he disentangled himself and got them to their feet. “Look, we should go back inside.” Where he could put a table, or better yet, a whole room between them for safety. His or hers, he couldn't be sure.

“No, please,” she begged, the grin still wide on her face. “I've got it now. See.” She let go of his arm and stood alone.

Shane kept his hands at the ready even though her balance seemed much better. In fact, she looked remarkably stable and relaxed.

Eden's gaze danced to the others practicing their slap shots. “Do you have a stick I could use?”

“Whoa there, Crosbie,” Shane chuckled. “Let's get you skating first before you try your hand at a stick.”

“What? You mean like this?”

He grasped at empty air when she suddenly pushed away to slide smoothly backward. A mischievous glitter twinkled up to him as she swayed her hips, propelling herself faster. Before he could say her name, Eden skidded to a stop and returned to him all in one fluid movement, ending with a small spray of ice shavings over his own skates.

Why that little... Crossing his arms over his chest, he narrowed his gaze. “I thought you said you can't skate?”

“Can't skate…can't skate? Nope, I don't recall actually saying those words,” she mimicked. Eden zipped around him in a circle, her laughter trailing after her like fairy dust. “I believe what I said was 'it'd been a while'. Years in fact. Guess it is like riding a bike after all, huh?”

When she stopped, Shane took his turn, unable to stop himself from assessing the snug jeans under the ski-bunny attire as he slowly circled her. “What other tricks do you have up your sleeve, Ms. Rossi?”

“Wouldn't be much fun if I told you all my secrets, now would it?”

He slid off to the far side and retrieved two hockey sticks. “All right, Red. Let's see what you got.”

****

“You owe me.”

Shane butted his shoulder gently against Eden where they sat side by side removing their skates in the mudroom. The chill evening air and exertion lent a shiny, apple-red glow to her cheeks.

She grinned, eyes wide and errantly innocent. “Owe you what?”

“An explanation, for starters.”

She laughed until her breath came in short pants.

He held his jaw tight against his body's intense reaction.

“You know,” she sighed, flopping back against the wall. “I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard or had so much fun.” She rolled her head toward him. “Thank you.”

Unable to take his gaze away from the silver specks picking up the moon's rays beaming through the window, Shane fought his tight lungs for words. “You're welcome.” When air filled them again, he reached for the safe topic they'd been on. “Tell me how a straight-laced financial consultant kicked my ass at backyard hockey.”

“My dad.” She bent forward and pulled a skate from her foot. “He's a junior league hockey coach. Taught me everything I know.”

“Ahh. Then you were just playing me this afternoon in the city.”

“No I wasn't.” Slim brows drew down. “It's just...” She crossed the cement floor to put her skates back in a cubicle square. “Never mind, you wouldn’t understand.”

Shane followed, placing a hand on her slumped shoulder. “Try me.”

Eden dropped her head back against the wooden structure and closed her eyes. “Honestly, I meant it this afternoon. I hadn't skated in years. Forgot all about it in fact.” The crease of her brows grew deeper. “Actually, I'd forgotten a lot of things until today.”

“Like what?”

“Like family.” She opened her eyes and rubbed the back of her neck. “It's funny what you can see in hindsight. After my mom died, Dad was so worried about making sure I graduated and made something of myself that he wouldn't let me help him out at the rink anymore.” She gave a derisive snort. “I remember being furious and told him I didn't care about his stupid hockey anyway.” A single shoulder shrugged between them. “Needless to say, things kind of went downhill between us from there. So, I did exactly what he wanted and studied my heart out, but only so I could get the hell out of there as soon as possible. I guess I just took it to the extreme. I became smart and independent, self-sufficient just like he wanted. All by myself.” She roamed a gaze around the room and frowned. “This...tonight—it's not who I really am.”

Shane curled a finger under her chin, tilting up the soft skin to meet his gaze. “Maybe it's more you than you think.” The urge to bend down and kiss her sadness away was overwhelming. So strong in fact, he found his body leaning slowly toward hers.

“Hey, you two. Supper's ready and the natives are getting restless.”

His older brother's baritone at the doorway startled Shane to straighten. “We'll be right there.” With a tight smile, Eden nodded then ducked out from under the arm he didn't even remember bracing against the cubicles.

She hung her coat on a wall rack and said a quick thanks to Steve as she passed by.

Reluctantly, Shane followed until his brother's sudden arm across the door jamb stopped his forward momentum. “What?” He wasn't in the mood to deal with the superior attitude in his brother's expression.

“Watch it, bro,” Steve warned. “You don't want to be messing with those apples.”

He quirked a brow. “What are you talking about?”

“She's your best friend's fiancée. Eden's the forbidden fruit, man.” He emphasized his point with a hard finger to Shane's chest. “You don't want to go near that garden, if you catch my drift.”

“Nice analogy. Think of it yourself?” he scoffed, pushing Steve's hand aside.

What the hell was his brother talking about? Of course, he knew Eden was Brad's fiancée. Hell, tomorrow he'd be the one standing beside him as best man while Brad married...Eden.

Distracted, Shane almost ran over his mother coming out of the kitchen with a platter of sliced roast beef in her hands. “Here, I'll help you with that,” he offered, thankful for the diversion.

“You're such a good boy. I wish you could find someone like Eden. She's such a dear.” With a pat to his cheek, she turned back into the kitchen. “I know you're not much for cake so I've made your favorite for dessert tonight—apple pie.”

Shane paused a half-step outside of the dining room, Eden in full focus at the family table, and his brother’s words mocking him. You don’t want to be messing with those apples.