Neve (Silver Skates #3) - Helen Scott Page 0,4
story first though,” he said almost absentmindedly, as though he was reminding himself where he was going.
“Can I come and see you in action?” I asked as he stepped toward the door and I followed.
“If you must.” He stared at me through the thick black frames of his glasses, and I knew he was begging me with his eyes not to join him, but that wasn’t going to happen. I knew no one in this little town, and that needed to change. Stat.
“I must,” I said before smiling sweetly at him.
He pushed off then, walking down the hall without saying another word. I stepped behind him, wondering if he was actually trying to leave me behind. When we paused for him to lock the door to the offices of the Silver Springs Gazette, I took another look around, trying to see the town from the perspective of someone who lived there instead of an interloper. Try as I might, I couldn’t figure out why the town seemed to be populated by people in their twenties and thirties. Or at least that was the only age group that seemed to be out and about.
Once the door was locked, he swung the keys so they flipped around his finger and landed with a jangle in the palm of his hand before he slipped them into his pocket. He strode off down the street with only the briefest glance over his shoulder to make sure I was still there.
“So, you know who I am. What’s your name?” I asked as I kept pace with him, although it took a little effort. The guy had some long legs, and his stride was just eating up the ground. I wasn’t sure if it was intentional so that he could leave me behind, or if he always walked like the hounds of hell were on his tail. If he had a tail? I could tell he was something, but I didn’t know what, and it would be rude to ask outright, even though my curiosity was killing me.
“Seren Flykra, reporter for the Silver Springs Gazette, at your service,” he said as he paused and turned to me, flourishing his hand dramatically as he bowed.
“I can’t tell whether you don’t like me because I’m a woman or I’m an Astor,” I said, putting my hands on my hips and raising an eyebrow at him as he stood.
He started walking again without acknowledging my comment. Fantastic. He was the cold shoulder type. This was going to be harder than I imagined.
As we neared the top of the street, the first thing that caught my eye was the mansion that was designed to look like a castle. It sat on the top of a large hill and overlooked the area below, like my father looking down his nose at his employees.
Below that though was the most beautiful ice-skating rink I’d ever seen, and that included the rink at the Rockefeller. The large open area was surrounded by small buildings that all looked like they belonged in the Alps, since they were styled as little chalets and cottages.
“So what are you writing about?” I asked as we went through the gate from the parking lot and walked up to the first little booth.
“This place is new, which is a big deal here, so we’re doing a feature on the rink and all the shops that have opened up with it, showing people what’s on offer.” He gestured to all the small buildings. “We’ll talk about the winter activities and our hockey team finally having a place for games, that kind of stuff. Try to help the rink get business outside of the initial rush of interest.”
“What’s the rink doing for the paper?” I asked.
Seren looked at me funny before buying two tickets. I’d have to make sure he was reimbursed for those, since this was a work outing and all.
“They aren’t doing anything for the paper, that’s not how it works out here. We’re doing the feature because it’s a small town and this is a big deal. Plus, we want it to succeed.”
“Sure, I get it.” Or at least I was trying to. Daddy would have had a field day with that answer, but I knew that small towns were different—everyone knowing each other and no anonymity, or at least less.
I mean, I’d even noticed a few people staring at me, and I wasn’t dressed outlandishly or anything. It was more the curiosity of something new that was drawing