The Inside Edge: Chapter Five

            Her short hair whipped sharply against her cheeks, the cold air swirling, biting at her neck and escaping from her mouth in cloudy puffs as she raced forward. Her body seemed to rock back and forth, back and forth, swaying naturally as she settled into position, her legs pumping gracefully against the translucent gleam of frozen water underneath her feet.

            The edge of the pond came in sight, the perimeter mounded with the bulk of half-frozen snow. Twirling, her skates zigged and zagged as she flew backward, her movements rhymical as the air rushed at her from behind, her legs only shifting at the last minute, cutting elegantly into the ice, her body a delicate reed blowing effortlessly with the motion as she came to a quick, hard stop.

            For a moment, she poised that way, her arms swanned out demurely at her sides, her head tilted to a defiant angle, her legs standing straight and sure on the frozen ground.

            “You did it!”

            At the words, Brianne’s lips pulled apart. Spinning around, her hands curling into fists, she pumped the air. Her skates jumped a little on the ice. “I did it!” she cried, closing her eyes to savor the moment. “I did it!”

            “I’m so damn proud of you.”

            With a pop, her eyes re-opened. Staring up at the face, those incredibly brown eyes, bent so close to hers, her green eyes blazed in reaction When his arms snaked around her waist, Brianne responded by settling her hands against his shoulders.        

            “Thanks Coach,” she offered, her voice a mere mist of sound. Arching her back just the slightest bit, her lips fell open as she reached upward.

            “Anytime,” he murmured, as his mouth descended, crashing against hers—

            “Jesus!” With a jerk, Brianne pulled herself awake. Snapping upright, she leaned back against her headboard, her knees drawing up tight to her chest with the action. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she dropped her head forward. The dream rolled across the canvas of her tightly closed eyes.

            “This is what happens when you go over a year without sex,” she admonished herself, physically shaking herself clean of the memory, of the dream. Scrambling out of bed, she felt her lips curling. “I mean, the coach?”

            She laughed but there was nothing of humor in the sound as she yanked her bedroom door open. Shuffling on the beige carpeting, she crept down the hall to her bathroom. “I mean, the coach?”

            It was just a dream.

            “Clearly, you need to get out more,” she muttered. With a flick of her wrist, she turned on the tap water. Cupping her hands under the facet, she leaned forward, splashing her face. “Yeah, that’s it.”

            Unbidden, the image of the man in questions flashed across her consciousness. Scowling at the soggy face glaring back at her, Brianne rolled her eyes. “I mean, okay, so it’s not like the man’s ugly or anything.”

            He had strong, broad shoulders.

            A nice butt.

            “Not that I was looking but…well, on skates and all—”

            And she didn’t even know his damn name.

            “No. Enough. Maybe it’s time,” she informed herself, reaching for a towel to dry her face. “Maybe it’s time to dry online dating or something.”

            Anything.  

            “Because having sex dreams about hockey dads,” she made a face. “Come on girl, even you can do better than that.”

            He also had a nice jawline. Firm but not too square…

            “Oh, shut up,” she muttered to herself, marching back to bed. With a crack, she opened and slammed the door shut. “Now, it’s going to be all weird when you see him again.”

            Luckily, that didn’t turn out to be quite true. At least, it wasn’t too weird. So yeah, if she was a bit quiet when she noticed him arrive—and for God’s sake, why’d she have to notice the moment he stepped foot in the arena, his long legs encased in faded blue jeans and paired with the habitual sweatshirt and black baseball cap—Brianne chalked that up to concentration.

            According to the boys, she was making excellent progress.

            And if she was a little hurried in her goodbyes, her eyes carefully watching the clock so as not to give the coach reason to enter into their skate time and separate her from her only source of a protection, a gaggle of teenaged defenders, Brianne assured the boys, who half-heartedly protested her sudden announcement to leave, that she had work waiting for her

            “But it’s Sunday,” Lucas informed her smugly.

            “Yes, well…” Brianne shrugged, “restaurants are open on Sundays, too, you know.”

            Cory tilted his head a little to one side, his eyes narrowing just slightly on the words. “You work at a restaurant?”

            Gliding alongside the boards, Brianne nodded as she headed for the far side of the arena, where her exit awaited.  

            “As a waitress?”

            “They liked to be called servers, Derrick.”

            Derrick rolled his eyes at George’s reprimand. “Whatever.”

            Holding up a hand, Brianne interceded, as she’d quickly learned to do. When the conversation dipped away from hockey, the boys tended to—aggravate one another. “No, I’m not a server. I’m a manager.”

            “What restaurant?”
            Nearing her destination, Brianne paused to smile over at Cory. “The Fitz Avery.”

            “Oh, I like that place,” he informed her, his legs easily keeping pace with her movements.

            “Who doesn’t like pizza?” The obviously rhetorical question came from George.

            Brianne winked at him. “And that’s just the kind of attitude we want our customers to have when they walk in.”

            “Are you sure you need to leave now?” This came from Lucas again, trailing a bit behind them.

            Pulling up at the door leading off the ice, Brianne turned around, her eyes dancing with mischief. “You just want to delay starting practice.” She wagged a finger playfully. “Don’t think you’re fooling anyone.”

            Lucas ducked his head.

            Cory laughed. “See you next week?”
            “Sure.”

            With that, she slowly levered herself off the ice.

            “Nice skating, Ms. Kelling,” Brian said, meeting her halfway to the bleachers. “You’re really catching the hang of it.”

            Smiling from him to Fred, who seemed to be forever beside the younger man, Brianne nodded. “Thanks. Yeah, it’s slowly coming back.”

            “What is?”
            At the sound of his voice, Brianne felt herself stiffen just slightly. “My skating,” she mumbled. Reaching the bleachers, she plopped down along the long, wooden bench. Bending down at the waist, she quickly took to unlacing her ice-skates. A weary sigh wheezed out of her mouth. “Though…”

            Brian. “Though?”
            “I mean, I never really meant to get that good at the sport.”

            “Huh?” The question came from Fred.

            Glance up at him through her bangs, Brianne smiled. “When I stopped here that first time, I just thought—hey, I haven’t skated in ages. Might be fun.”

            From her peripheral vision, Brianne saw the coach’s lips tug up a little at the words, his arms coming to rest against his hips. He had nice, tapered fingers—

            Nope. No. Not again.

            Shaking her head forcefully, Brianne forcused her attention. “And now I’m getting private lessons. For free.”

            “Can’t beat free.”

            “Yeah? Only, I don’t know what I’m going to do with all these skills once I learn them.”

            When she felt Fred kneel down beside her, Brianne realized the atmosphere around them had changed. “But what about the boys?”

            “The boys?”
            “They’re learning skills too.”

            Brianne nodded slowly as the weight, the gravity of the words sank through. Neither coach or Brian spoke, but she noticed that they were paying close attention. Blowing out a hard breath, she nodded again. “Yes.”

            “And what they’re learning is…well, it’s crucial.”

            Brianne pulled her lips inside her mouth before slowly, carefully nodding. “I know.”

            Seemingly satisfied with her answers, Fred patted her knee once before bouncing back to his feet. Out of the corner of her she saw Fred and Brian meander off. The coach, however, stayed back. Determinedly, Brianne went back to her ice-skates. Lending her mind carefully to the task at hand, she swore she felt his eyes on her down bent head but she pretended to ignore the fizzle of awareness fluttering against her stomach.

            “You got done early today.”

            Pulling her feet out of the skates, Brianne nodded as she flexed her toes in their thick socks. “Yeah…”

            “I meant what I said last week.”

            “I’m sure you did.”

            He grunted. “Well…just know it’s not necessary.”

            Peeking up at him quickly, she smiled. “Have a good practice.”

            He nodded. “Right.” Turning on his heel, he walked away, his steps taking him unerringly toward the ice, where the boys were standing, huddled near Brian and Fred. Brianne swallowed as she watched his steady progress. She’d never before experienced the sensation of having to forcefully restrain herself from checking out a man’s butt. She didn’t like it, either.  

            With a strangled curse, she reached under the bench for where she’d stashed her shoes earlier in the afternoon. Slipping them on, she grabbed up her skates.

            “Stupid, fucking dream.”