Page 16 of 10 Things I Skate About You

“Wow. That’s a lot of hustle for a nine-year-old.”

I shrug. “I was born for the grind, Red.” I hold my hands out in front of her face. “These hands were made to do and to make and to score.”

She shakes her head at me. “I was so close to having real respect for you.”

“I’ll get it back. Couldn’t resist.”

She takes another sip of her wine. “I just figured they would have wanted you back there when you left Chicago.”

“They did want me back. But when I grew up there we bred horses for regular ownership—family trail horses, you know? Didn’t bring in the big bucks, but it was a nice life. I fucking loved those horses. I loved the land. But I loved hockey more.” I start stroking the edge of my wineglass with my fingertips, like I’m doing it absentmindedly, but I know exactly what I’m doing. And I see her looking. I see how tense she gets. I see her rubbing her lips together and grabbing the edge of her seat, and I know she’s clenching her thighs down there. “When I was up here playing for the Comets they made the transition to breeding quarter horses for show and competition. Cutting horses. Theygot really into the status of it. Totally different vibe. My brothers are really into it. I’m not.”

I glance up at Kate. Her eyelids are heavy. She’s all dreamy. I’ve drawn her offside, and she doesn’t even realize it.

“My family doesn’t get me. And it’s fine. Because Howard and Frieda did from the start.”

“Your billet parents.”

“Yeah.”

“They always seemed very kind.” She has a sparkle in her eyes as she says, “I could never understand why they seemed to like you so much.”

“They’re the best people I know. They were retiring right around the time I got the injury. As soon as I got the news that I couldn’t play in the NHL anymore, Howard told me they were moving to Nova Scotia but they wanted to keep their house here. Said they’d rent it to me if I wanted it while I was recovering. And the workshop that’s on the property. He wasn’t going to take any of his woodworking equipment with him, so he wanted me to have it. I wish they were here, but we keep in touch and I get an email from Frieda every so often, asking me if I’m eating enough.”

That makes Kate Pogue smile. A real, honest to God, appreciative smile. “That’s cute.”

Our waiter comes to take our order, and I’m impressed by the steak she chose. After he’s poured us more wine and left the table, I say, “So, it’s my turn to ask you something I’ve always wanted to know.”

She frowns at me. “I reserve the right to choose not to answer if I don’t want to.”

“Fair enough.” I’m about to ask, but all of a sudden, Tommy from the dry cleaner approaches the table.

His salt-and-pepper hair’s in a ponytail and he’s wearing Crocs as always, but he’s got on a suit for a change. “So sorry tobother you two, but we’re leaving and I just wanted to say you’re doing great. Keep it up.” He pats me on the shoulder. “That’s whatshesaid, am I right?!” Tommy laughs at his own joke.

“Would you guys mind if I get a pic with you two? My daughter heard about the date, and she will absolutely die if she sees me with you.” He hands a waiter his camera and positions himself behind the flower arrangement, his hands awkwardly on both of our shoulders as we lean in toward him. “Loved the last episode, Kate,” he says when we’re done posing. “And I cannot wait for the one with my boy Bowie.”

Tommy holds his hand up for a high-five from both of us and then leaves. That guy is Bowie’s biggest fan. Craig Bowman’s all right, I guess. If you’re into goalies.

“Where was I? Oh yeah—why did you stop competing?” I ask Kate. “I’ve seen you skate. There were so many times over the years when I showed up at the rink and saw you skating before you realized I was there. You were brilliant. You were so alive. Why were you scared to go national?”

For a second she looks like she’s going to flip the table, but then she remembers we aren’t fighting and takes a deep breath before answering. “I wasn’tscared. I realized I just love skating. I didn’t like competing. The joy you saw, that was because I was skatingfor me. And I’m tired of people thinking that’s not enough. I’ve had so many clients who absolutely adore competitive figure skating. It lights them up. I love it for them. It’s just not for me. I know who I am. And if you don’t, that’s just too bad for you.”

“I agree.”

She scoffs. Then she realizes what I just said. “What?”

“I agree that it’s too bad for me. Not knowing you.”

Narrowing her eyes at me, she mutters, “What are you up to?”

“Believe it or not I’m just trying to get to know you better over the course of the next couple of hours. It might be the only chance I’ll ever get.”

“Highly suspicious.”

“Yeah, I get it. But what’s the harm in continuing to make it look like we’re having a good time so your shitty ex can see how quickly you moved on?”

I reach for her hand across the table.

Smirking, she says, “How dare you.” But she takes my hand. “But also, why don’t you tell me why you always hated him so much?”