Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
I raise my head and lift a critical brow, eyeing Ryan’s checked flannel shirt. Tucked in. “Dude, purple skates are not trendy. Just ask Ivy.”
Looking at his husband, Bryan smooths a hand down his sky-blue button-down—classy but stylish, unlike Ryan. “That’s what I told you, babe.”
At the affectionate nickname Ivy’s blue eyes sparkle and she nudges Stefan, then mouths so cute.
“I don’t know. My skates are pretty sweet,” Ryan adds with bravado.
“I can see where Hayes gets his confidence,” Ivy says to Ryan.
He nods proudly. “Yup. Now, do you want to see my purple skates?”
“I’d love to. But I also really want to hear the end of the story—what happened with Hayes’s dance-off, face-off, skate-off?”
Stefan chuckles and reaches for Ivy’s hand. “Yes, tell us everything about the ice-dancing finale.”
“Thanks for ganging up on me,” I say dryly.
“What are friends and family for?” Stefan asks.
Ivy freezes, like the word surprises her—family. Then she smiles as if she turned it over and found she liked it. I hope now that she’s met my family, she’ll feel as if they could be hers as well. Stefan and I want her to see what it’ll be like if she falls in love with us too.
“They exist to reveal all your embarrassing stories, it seems.” Ivy props her chin in her hand, looking from Ryan to Bryan. “Now, tell me. How did he do in the skate-off?”
Ryan dives into the tale of my brash, seven-year-old self challenging a bunch of thirteen-year-olds to a shootout, finishing with, “And one by one, he took them down.” He squeezes my shoulder proudly.
“At your rink?” Ivy asks.
“That’s the one.”
“And did you know then that he’d be a star?”
Bryan snorts, and if a snort could be proud that one is. “I knew it before. When he was four and skated like Gretzky.”
“Stop. Just stop,” I warn him. We’re veering dangerously close to the verbal equivalent of naked baby photos.
“Please don’t stop,” Stefan goads. “I want to hear more about this young Gretzky.”
“And I need to see this famous rink,” Ivy says.
Well, we’d planned on showing it to her anyway.
After they give us a tour of the local rink, which is booked up the wazoo—Bryan’s terms—Bryan and Ryan take off, leaving us alone.
“You kids can skate all you want. Just shut the door and lock it when you’re done,” Bryan says.
Ivy shoots me a curious look. “They don’t mind us using it?”
Stefan and I laugh. “We booked it tonight,” I say.
“Oh,” she says, then smiles so wide my heart beats a little harder for her.
We lace up, and the three of us skate for a good long time, all alone in the rink, under the lights, blasting rock music. When we’ve raced around the ice enough, I check in with Stefan. “Ready?”
“Absolutely.”
Skating backwards, I tug on Ivy’s hand. “Want to ride on a Zamboni?”
Her blue eyes pop. “Yes!”
We take off our skates, and after I show her the basics of driving the big blue beast, I let her take it for a spin while I ride shotgun and Stefan watches from the edge of the rink. After a lap or two, she’s breathing hard and her cheeks are red—steering one of these is a workout. She stops the machine in the middle of the ice and lets out a contented sigh.
Stefan walks over and stands at the open door. “New career path as a Zamboni driver?”
“Imagine how valuable I’d be to hockey teams then. From mascot to Zamboni driver in a single bound.” She pats the metal edge of the machine. “Seriously, this was so fun. Are you guys trying to be the best boyfriends ever?”
It’s a dead-serious question.
I catch Stefan’s gaze, grinning like she’s caught on to us. I like, too, that she calls us boyfriends. She’s not making distinctions in titles anymore. We’re both her boyfriends.
“Yes,” Stefan answers her. “Is it working?”
Ivy’s smile is coy. “Kind of, but I’m not convinced yet.”
“Woman, what’s it going to take?” Stefan teases.
Ivy climbs out of the driver’s seat and onto my lap, patting the other seat for Stefan, who hops up where she’s indicated. There’s not much room for any one of us, but who needs room when my woman has dirty deeds flashing in her eyes? She manages to straddle me, rocking subtly against my dick. I’m not even hard, but that changes quickly, especially when she dips her face to my neck. She kisses me there while reaching toward Stefan’s face, running her knuckles down his cheek and over his stubble as she rocks against me.
My dick salutes hello, and my mind hums with possibilities. Stefan’s thinking fast too. He blows on his hands, warming them up, then slides them under her sweatshirt, touching her belly, the curves of her breasts.
She gasps, then breaks the kiss to lock eyes with me then him.