His conversation with Grims had been on a loop in his head, and he tuned in a little more closely. Fall for the mom, fall for the kid. What about the reverse? What if the kid fell for you? Would the mom follow?
Back all the way up, dude. You are so far ahead of yourself that you’re gonna get whistled for offsides.
But then his conversation with Sarah floated to the forefront. Locating his phone, he tapped out a message to Lily: Does Daisy skate?
Lily: Sort of?
Gage: Would she like to learn?
He thought better of the text and replaced it with: Would you like her to learn? I know a professor who can teach her. LOL.
Lily: She’d love it.
Gage: How about her mama?
Lily: She’s pretty iffy. LOL.
Gage: I have mini mites Saturday morning. Come by and I’ll get her set up.
Lily: To play mites???
Gage: Probably best if she has the basics first, but whatever she wants.
Lily: Are you serious?
Gage: As a game misconduct.
Lily: She’ll be so excited. See you then, Professor.
He sent her details, slid the phone on the coffee table, and leaned back, hands laced behind his head. For the first time in hours, satisfaction thrummed in his chest.
Saturday morning couldn’t come fast enough. He was on the ice setting up practice cones with the assistant coaches when his gaze caught on a froth of blond hair on the other side of the glass, close by the open door where the mini mites would soon stream onto the ice.
He squinted. Either he was seeing double or there were two heads with springy blond curls, one taller than the other. He made for the door, and the sight through the Plexiglas sharpened. Lily, a tentative smile on her face, stood behind a little girl no taller than his mites. The girl’s wide eyes were fixed on the rink, and she sported a smile that seemed to take over her whole face. Pointing at the ice, she tilted her head upward at Lily and began bouncing in place. He nearly laughed out loud.
Lily kept her eyes pinned to his as he reached the door and stepped onto the rubberized floor. No lie, that step was more of a spring. He found himself buoyed, excited to meet this pint-sized replica of her mom.
“Hey.” He flashed Lily the first smile.
“Hey,” she replied, her smile growing a little surer, a little wider.
His eyes traveled to the little girl, who was unabashedly gawking at him. He dropped into a crouch in front of her, leveling his gaze with hers. She had clear silvery-gray orbs and was missing a tooth.
“Hi.” He held out his hand. “I’m Gage.”
With a shy giggle, she pressed her back into Lily’s legs. Lily rested her hands on the girl’s shoulders and gave her a light squeeze.
“Daisy, use your manners. Say hello to … to Mr. Gage.”
He dropped his hand, dangling it from his knee. “Did you know your mom helps me with my work? She and I are friends, so I think that makes you and me friends too.” He cocked a questioning eyebrow at Lily, silently asking for guidance. How do I play this? What do I do next?
Lily seemed to haul in a breath. “Gage, this is—”
“I’m Daisy,” the girl declared. “And this is my mom.” Another giggle, and she threw her head against Lily and gazed up at her.
Lily ran her fingers through Daisy’s whorls. “You’ve told him your name, but you still haven’t said hello. Can you say hello now?”
Those luminous gray eyes locked on to his. “Hello, Mr. Cage.” She squirmed in her mother’s arms.
Lily leaned down to Daisy’s ear. “Mr. Gage, sweetie.”
“Mr. Cage.”
“Mr. Cage is fine,” he offered. “Your mom tells me you’re ready to skate.”
She nodded solemnly before roaming her eyes back to the ice, where something seemed to capture all her attention. She left the shelter of her mother’s legs and pressed her forehead to the glass, her conversation with Gage utterly abandoned.
He stood, taking note of the tender look in Lily’s eyes as she watched her daughter. The inexplicable urge to circle his arms around them both seized him until he mentally shook it off. He steadied his breath and schooled his features before leaning down to Lily. “Ready to go to the pro shop and get her fitted for some skates?”
“Yes.” Thank you, she mouthed, making him feel about twelve feet tall. She extended her hand to Daisy. “Come on, sweet pea. Let’s get you some skates.”
Daisy spun, bypassed her mom’s hand, and slipped her tiny one into Gage’s, surprising him. With her head thrown back to look up at him, she said, “My mom says you’re gonna teach me to play hockey, Mr. Cage.”
If all it took was looks to fall under someone’s spell, he was a goner for this little cutie.
He gave her doll-like hand a squeeze of his fingers. “I am. And I bet you’ll be flying around the rink in no time.” He winked at Lily. “And maybe we can get your mom out there too. What do you think, Daisy?”
Blond curls bobbed. “I like that. I like you, Mr. Cage.”
His heart might have cracked open and oozed. Or maybe it had been turned to putty. He wasn’t sure. But he was sure of what he said next.
“I like you too, Daisy.”
Though Lily had only brought Daisy to skate with Gage—well, Gage’s mites team—a few times now, she was growing accustomed to the unpleasant smells that assaulted her whenever she set foot inside the rink complex: a combination of chemicals, an odd variant on mustiness, and the tang of reeking gear bags. She was making other adjustments too, like weaving Gage’s crazy schedule into hers and feeding Hobbes when the Blizzard hit the road. The routine—if one could call it that—had become
