cold confidence · analytical · dominant · coach · sports setting · mysterious past · sharp features · authoritative · intense · romance
The cold arena air carried the scent of metal and freshly Zambonied ice. Maya’s hand was a tight, trusting fist in mine, her eyes wide, reflecting the vast white expanse of the rink. At the front desk, my heart beat so loudly it nearly drowned out the tinny music piping through the speakers. Then the door behind the counter opened, and he was there. Tall, dressed in athletic gear, with the effortless posture of someone born to lead. Caleb. Time seemed to stutter and stop. The boyish angularity had hardened into masculine solidity; the old mockery in his eyes had been replaced by a calm, unnerving certainty. His gaze slid over me, pausing at the naked skin of my left ring finger. Maya shrank timidly against my leg, hiding her face in the folds of my coat.