Page 6 of Slapshot Kiss

I stare straight ahead, avoiding looking down. Over this whole thing, I’ve forgotten to be mean to Wyatt.

"So," Wyatt says.

"Mm-hmm."

"You've gone quiet."

Well, shit. So he’s noticed. "I'm enjoying the view."

I can feel his gaze on me from the side. "You don’t really look like you’re enjoying yourself. Am I really that terrible?"

He’s got me flustered now, and I look at him. "No, no. Of course not. You’re not terrible at all."

"Okay." He smiles at me, not understanding why I’m acting so weird, but also totally willing to believe I don’t find him terrible at all.

I find this look on him too damn endearing.

I look away again.

The city stretches beyond the carnival in glittering rows of light, and if I ignore the fact that we're suspended in a metal box held together by what I can only assume are several screws and a prayer, it is admittedly beautiful.

Wyatt's knee brushes mine again, and I become acutely aware of him beside me.

The warmth of his leg. The clean, subtle smell of his cologne. The way his forearm rests across his thigh, close enough that if I moved my hand a few inches, I'd touch him.

This was a bad idea.

Not because of the height.

Well, also because of the height.

But mostly because being alone with Wyatt is different from being around him at the rink or at team events, where there are always people between us and a hundred reasons not to look at him for too long.

There is nowhere else to look in here.

My gaze drops to his mouth before I can stop it.

His lips curve, as if he’s reading my mind. "Something interesting down there?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

I lift my eyes to his. "You know, for someone who wanted to get me alone, you're doing a terrible job of making me glad I agreed."

His smile fades just slightly. "I am glad you agreed." And there’s definite sincerity in his voice.

My pulse kicks harder, and something warm unfurls low in my stomach.

Oh—

The Ferris wheel jerks.

A horrible grinding noise cuts through the air, and our gondola swings forward before snapping back.

Every thought disappears.

The wheel stops with us at the very top, my fingers clamping around the safety bar for purchase.