Taking the Ice (Ice Series Book 3) (2 page)

“I had to show them mine,” Josh said.

I laughed harder. “This party has taken a very sketchy turn.”

“You should be proud. I’d kill to be young and not sagging everywhere.” Mrs. Cassar touched her wrinkled neck.

Everyone was watching me, so I threw up my hands. “Alright, if you insist.”

I gave them just a peek of my stomach, and they whooped and applauded. Josh and I collapsed into more laughter, and I shook my head. Life in Mrs. Cassar’s orbit was never dull.

“Are you going to keep skating for fun after you retire from competition?” Mrs. Behr asked. “You can’t let those bodies go soft.”

“We’d love to do some shows. I’m starting Boston College in the fall, so hopefully I don’t put on the freshman fifteen.” I patted my stomach. “Josh’ll be on the ice a lot more than I will.”

“He’s become a highly sought-after choreographer,” Mrs. Cassar said, sounding like a proud mom.

Josh blushed again, and I kissed his pink cheek. His irresistible shy smile made me want to do a lot more than give him a peck, but the ladies had already gotten enough of a show.

“We should probably get going.” I picked up my hat. “We have to rest our wicked abs for training tomorrow.”

“Just one more question before you go,” Mrs. Behr said. “The two of you are absolutely adorable together. So, when’s the wedding?”

Josh and I both froze in the middle of zipping our jackets. I glanced at him, and he just quietly chuckled and kept his head down. Was I supposed to answer?

“They’re a little busy with other things right now,” Mrs. Cassar said.

I gave her a thank-you smile and a goodnight hug, and Josh and I walked quietly across the backyard to the guest house. Mrs. Behr had no idea how much I’d been asking
myself
her question lately.

Josh hadn’t been shy about mentioning marriage until the past few months when he’d gone radio silent on the subject. We’d talked about moving to Boston together in the fall, but no further commitment had been made. Sharing an apartment would be awesome, but I wanted more. I wanted to stand at the altar and look into Josh’s eyes and say vows. I wanted to make all our promises official and be his wife. I was ready. But I was starting to wonder if he wasn’t.

“Less than two hours until midnight.” Josh broke the silence. “What song would you like to hear first?”

He went straight to his high-tech keyboard in the tiny living room, and I sat on the couch, curling my legs under me.

“Umm… how about ‘Secrets?’” I said, thinking about my secret wish for a midnight surprise.

“One Republic coming up.”

He faced the keyboard, and I angled so I had a direct view of his profile. I had yet to understand how Josh could play so many songs just from memory. It was a mind-boggling talent. He only needed a few moments to collect his thoughts before his fingers began flying over the keys.

Watching him play the piano completely enthralled me every time. He felt the music in his entire body, and the passion came to a head in his strong hands. He poured his soul into the keys in a way that was hotly beautiful.

Time became a non-entity as I lost myself in watching Josh play. When he busted out some ragtime tunes, I got up and danced the Charleston in the narrow space between the sofa and the TV. I didn’t realize it was almost midnight until Josh looked at the microwave clock and jerked his hands back from the keyboard.

“Three minutes.” He jumped up and went to the bedroom. “I’ll be right back.”

My heart rate launched into a higher gear, and I dropped onto the sofa. Could Josh be going to get a ring?
The
ring? He’d been so adamant about me staying awake that he had to have a special reason. When he hadn’t proposed at Christmas, I’d thought it wasn’t happening anytime soon, but he could’ve been waiting to start the New Year with an extra bang.

Josh returned with one minute to spare, and he held a small, unmarked cardboard box, not a velvet one. My pulse slowed as disappointment sank onto my chest. I wasn’t going to say anything to Josh because I didn’t want to be
that
girl. The one who harped on getting engaged. Mrs. Cassar had been right anyway. We had so much going on, and I shouldn’t be worried about anything past nationals. My heart just hadn’t gotten the memo yet…

Josh flipped on the TV, and we counted down along with a million people in Times Square. As the clock hit zero, he pulled me close so the tips of our noses brushed. He set his eyes on mine and spoke onto my lips, “Happy New Year.”

We sank into a deep kiss, all softness and heat, and nothing else mattered. Not engagement rings or Olympic rings. With Josh’s lips on mine, all I thought of and felt was the overwhelming love he had for me.

We slowly broke apart, and I reconnected with his gaze. “Happy New Year.”

He combed his fingers through my long curls. “It’s going to be one we always remember.”

“Does whatever’s in the box have anything to do with that?” I asked.

He smiled. “Partly.”

He opened the box and took out a round, red figurine. It had a face on the front and gold designs painted on its sides.

“This is a Daruma from Japan,” he said.

I looked closer at the figurine, and one missing feature stood out. “Why doesn’t it have eyes?”

“I had the same question. When we were at Grand Prix Final, I was Christmas shopping and saw these, and the first thing I noticed was the blank eyes. I asked the girl in the shop, and she gave me the whole story. At the start of the New Year, you’re supposed to set a goal and paint the right eye. The Daruma then serves as a reminder to stay focused on your goal, to keep only positive thoughts. When you reach the goal, you paint the other eye and write what you achieved on the back.”

He showed me the empty white heart on the back of the doll, and he pulled two markers from his pocket. “I got blue and green so it can have both our eye colors.”

I placed the doll on my palm and ran my thumb over the blank spaces for the eyes. I’d had so much bad juju when it came to making the Olympic team in the past. It couldn’t hurt to add whatever good luck symbols we could find.

“What happens if we don’t—”

Josh touched his finger to my lips. “Only positive thoughts.”

I smiled, and he traced the curve of my mouth. “Which color should we use first?”

“Your choice, my love.”

I surveyed them and selected the blue marker. “Do we have to say our goal out loud?”

“I don’t think there’s an official ritual, but that would be cool.”

“Let’s hold it together so we can both get the good luck vibes.”

We wrapped our hands around the doll, and I started, “Our goal is to skate—“

“At the 2014 Olympics together,” Josh echoed me.

We laughed at our unison, perfected from doing countless interviews the past few years.

“Ready to paint?” Josh asked.

I set the tip of the marker to the right eye, and Josh covered my hand with his. We swirled the pen together, painting a solid blue pupil. I capped the marker, and Josh set the doll on his thigh.

“We can bring it to Boston with us,” he said.

“And this, too.” I picked up the green marker.

Josh beamed at me. “Positive thinking. I love it.”

I looked down at the sorta creepy-looking Daruma. The idea of skating at the Olympics with Josh was motivation enough, but now I had an extra motivation to do well in Boston. We
had
to make the team because the last thing I wanted was a one-eyed doll haunting me the rest of my life.

Chapter Two

I
TOOK A LONG INHALE OF
the cold rink air and exhaled as I stretched my leg atop the boards. Josh and I had checked into the headquarters hotel in the Seaport area of Boston the previous afternoon and were about to begin our first practice. With the main arena still being set up for the event, we were practicing at the Skating Club of Boston, one of the secondary rinks for the week. The small venue should have made me feel at ease, like it was just another training day at home, but the volunteers wearing championship gear reminded me it was no ordinary day. The butterflies in my stomach had already started their wild party.

I switched to doing squats behind the boards, and Josh’s black skates walked up beside me. His neon orange blade guards gave him away.

“My mom is here?” he said.

I popped up and followed his eyes to the bleachers. Mrs. Tucker was slowly climbing in her stiletto boots to a spot beside our agent Kristin. She looked down at the bench and wrinkled her nose before wiping it with a tissue. God forbid she get a speck of dirt on her coat. Although, it had probably cost three thousand dollars.

“I can’t believe she schlepped all the way out here for practice after getting in so late last night,” I said.

“She had to be here in case there are any TV cameras,” Josh said.

I let out a dry laugh. Josh’s parents had been opposed to our partnership from the beginning because they wanted him to go to law school and join the family practice in Beverly Hills. They also hadn’t been fans of our relationship since I wasn’t the rich California girl they desired for their son.

All that had magically changed, though, once Josh and I won the national title and were hyped as Olympic hopefuls. Mrs. Tucker had become very interested in inserting herself into our limelight. She was all about us making the Olympic team and giving publicity to her family. Despite her new interest in us, I was pretty sure her feelings toward me hadn’t changed. I still felt her contempt whenever she looked at me.

“Poor Kristin,” I said. “Your mom’s probably giving her an earful about sponsorships she thinks we should have.”

“Steph needs to get here and run interference,” Josh said.

His sister and I weren’t besties, but we’d evolved from enemies into an amicable relationship. Since she was doing a fashion design internship in Los Angeles, she wouldn’t be arriving in Boston until the morning of our short program. That left two whole days for Mrs. Tucker to bother us uninterrupted.

The other three teams in our practice group inched closer to the boards, hinting we were moments from the start of the session. On cue, the announcer called all our names, and we left our skate guards with our coaches and took off across the ice.

Josh and I locked hands and sped into identical back crossovers, leaving a stiff breeze in our wake. With all the cool, difficult moves we could do, I still loved doing simple crossovers with Josh the best. We were one entity flying over the ice with just a few powerful strokes, and Josh always kept his eyes on mine, ensuring we were connected in every way.

After we finished warming up, we practiced side-by-side double jumps instead of our standard triples to establish our timing. Usually a double felt loose and easy, but my legs were tight, and having Mrs. Tucker in my sight line didn’t help. That woman always unnerved me with her critical stares.

While the program music played for the first team in the group, Josh and I did a few lifts and kept ourselves fresh for our own short program run-through. As the other pair took their bows, we applauded them and then settled into our opening pose. Josh stood behind me, and we faced the smattering of spectators in the bleachers. I could feel Mrs. Tucker’s cold glare on me, so I shut my eyes to get into character for the program.

Our flamenco-inspired music began, and Josh slid his hand up my arm, matching the mood of the sensual guitar. We turned to skate eye to eye and moved swiftly across the ice into our first element, the triple twist. I spun quickly in the air and landed neatly in Josh’s hands, right on the staccato beat. The twist had always been one of our strongest elements. Any trouble we had usually came on the side-by-side jumps, which were coming up next.

We curved toward the boards, and my legs tightened with nerves again. I pushed off my back inside edge and spun three times, but I was
so
tilted in the air. I came down hard on my hip, and the wet ice soaked my tights. Josh stood tall next to me, having done the triple Salchow cleanly, and I hurried to sync up our strokes.

Josh squeezed my hand, his little sign of encouragement, but I still felt unsteady as we began our intricate footwork sequence. My blades weren’t hugging the ice like they should, so I decided to put more oomph into my steps.

And down I went.

That time my butt took the brunt of my fall. Josh kept going while I scrambled to my feet to resume the straight-line pattern. When we came together at the end of the rink, he squeezed my hand again and said, “Just breathe.”

We slowed our pace before the throw triple flip, but I still botched the landing, putting my hand on the ice to balance myself. When we struck our ending pose, I noticed the judges who’d come to watch practice whispering to each other. They were probably saying, “Not exactly Olympic material.”

Josh put his arm around my waist, and we skated over to Em and Sergei at the boards. They gave me technical instruction to apply to my Salchow, and I set off to do the jump on my own. I skated around the team doing their run-through and set up for the take-off. Again I was crooked in the air and came down with my arms and legs flailing. My body just wouldn’t do what I knew it could. What it had done a million times.

I made two more shaky passes at the jump before Em and Sergei gave me a pep talk and told me to move on to another task. Josh and I did small sections of our long program and wrapped up the session with a two-minute cool down. I toweled the sweat from my face and downed my water as I watched the next group of pairs take the ice. Two of the top challengers for the Olympic team were in the group. I had my eyes trained on them until Mrs. Tucker rose from the bleachers and headed our way.

“We have to get outta here,” I told Josh as I stashed my water bottle and shoved my arms in my jacket. “I can’t deal with your mom right now.”

“I’m right behind you.”

We had to cross Mrs. Tucker’s path to reach the door, so we race-walked as if we were late. I gave her a little wave and Josh said, “We need to get to the shuttle. We’ll catch up with you later.”

“You can’t talk to your mother for five minutes?” she said.