Page 38 of Ice Queen

Maggie nuzzles further into her hand, earning her a smile that I, for some reason, wish I were on the receiving end of. It’s bright, easy, pure. “She likes you.”

“She has good taste,” she replies, then pauses to try and suppress her smile. “Or terrible. Jury’s still out on that one.”

I don’t laugh, and I notice the hand on Maggie’s ear halts its movement while she looks up at me.

I throw her a wink. “Nothing about you is terrible.” Her throat bobs, and I kick myself for stopping there. “Mags is a great judge of character.” Her shoulders rise and fall, and I can’t tell if it’s from relief or disappointment.

I glance toward the sidewalk in front of Tattered Pages. “Are you headed back to work?”

“Yep!” Her amber eyes shine in the sun as she follows my line of sight. “Figured I could take a break while it’s slow.”

I nod. “I’ll let you go then.” Stepping to the side, I pick up the end of the leash, ready to pull Maggie inside Beautiful Pour so I can breathe for a second.

But then she says, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Which one?”

“Why you’re here.”

I wonder how often we’ve walked past each other like ships in the night these past two years. How many times have I held the door for her and not noticed who she was? Did I make her feel invisible if I had? The thought doesn’t sit well, but she’s fiery enough that I’m sure she would have let me know how big a jerk I am.

“Needed my own pick me up.” My eyes drift past her, catching the reflection in the coffee shop window.

Her eyes narrow. “A big hockey star like you doesn’t have one of those fancy coffee machines at home? I find that hard to believe.”

My tongue presses against my lip ring. “You think about what I have at home?” My lips pull into a lazy smirk, loving the blush that climbs up her neck, staining her cheeks in the prettiest shade of pink.

“T-that’s not,” she stutters.

“I’m just messing with you, Princesa.”

She looks up at me through her lashes, and something in me flares to life, causing me to sway a bit on my feet. “Yes, I have a fancy coffee maker. But Maria makes Café con Leche like my Mamá used to.” I nod to the cup in her hand. “It’s my favorite.”

“Mine too,” she whispers, looking everywhere but at me.

“Do you have enough copies of that book you were talking about last week?” I toss her a line, give her something comfortable, considering her shoulders are creeping up to her ears.

The second my words land, they soften, and I swear I hear her exhale. “Yes, I um.” Her eyes flutter a few times before she focuses on a spot on the ground. “I ordered them after you guys said you wanted to read it. I hope that's okay.”

I watch as she runs her finger along the lid of her cup again. “I’m sorry, I guess I should have asked if you wanted to get them from me, that was dumb of me to assume.”

“Don’t do that,” I say. My hand comes to rest against her cheek before I think better of it. Her skin is warm beneath my palm as I tilt her face until her eyes meet mine, and the second they do, I yank it away as if I had been burned.

“Do what?” She breathes.

I clear my throat and take a step back. “Shrink yourself to try to manage someone else's reaction.”

Her lips part, mouth opening and closing a few times before she scoffs and shakes her head. She doesn’t deny it, though.

“I’ll come pick them up next Tuesday after practice, unless you’re coming to book club this week and you want to bring them.”

“You can come get them, just in case I don’t make it.” Her voice shakes.

“Cool, see you then,” I say, “Come on, Mags. Coffee awaits.” I pull on her leash once, she hesitates for a moment, but the second the door to Beautiful Pour opens, she darts inside.

I don’t move once I'm inside. Watching through the window, I wait until the door of Tattered Pages closes behind her, then I step up to the counter where a smiling Maria waits.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” she sings, handing me my coffee.