Neve (Silver Skates #3) - Helen Scott Page 0,6
as I approached.
“Do you have any recommendations?”
“Get the peppermint hot cocoa. Lyssie makes the best in town. I promise you won’t regret it,” said a man who was sitting at the counter on a bar stool. He was young, appearing as though he was around the same age as Seren. His face was all angles and smooth planes with an intense gaze, and it was topped off with some dark hair that was bleached at the ends, but in a sexy way, not a bad dye job way. That intense gaze was only directed at one person though, and it wasn’t me.
Lyssie was a lucky woman. Although there was a tension in the air I couldn’t describe, and it made goosebumps break out on my skin.
I smiled at Lyssie and said, “Peppermint hot cocoa it is, but can you add a shot of espresso?”
“Coming right up,” the woman replied as she got busy making my drink.
Within moments, she was handing it to me and the minty, chocolatey goodness was wafting toward me. I sipped and burned my tongue, but I didn’t care because it tasted so good. I groaned in satisfaction, and the woman behind the counter smiled. I paid and left a healthy tip before making my way back out to the main rink area.
A quick glance told me that Seren was still talking to the manager, Walt, Whit, something like that, so I sipped on my cocoa and meandered around the rink. It must have been an open skate or something because there were people of all ages and skill levels there. An older woman was gliding gracefully across the ice while a younger teen was holding on to the waist high walls of the rink for dear life. Each movement seemed to push her closer to falling.
I went to sip some more cocoa only to find my cup empty. Apparently, I had been enjoying it more than I thought for it to be gone so quickly. After glancing around, I knew what my next stop would be. Après Ski.
It was clearly an adult’s only bar, which sounded perfect. The bite of a cocktail would clear the sugar haze that had fallen over me since I had that hot cocoa. Plus, I was starting to freeze my tits off out here with no real winter jacket, something I’d need to change if I was going to be living in upstate New York.
I was used to spending my time in LA or Miami and occasionally Dubai, but never anywhere cold, or at least not when it was cold. I was not a snow bunny, I was more of a cold-blooded lizard of some kind, constantly needing the sun to warm my barely beating heart.
Well, that was a morbid thought.
I pushed it away and went into the bar. As the door swung shut behind me, I stared at the log cabin I’d apparently stepped into. Light up snowflakes hung from the ceiling, and furs and blankets were strewn over most surfaces, which combined with the soft light and cabin atmosphere made the whole place feel cozy and romantic. Though I hoped the furs were fake.
Tearing my gaze away from the decorations, I strode up to the bar at the other end of the cabin and ordered a drink, just a standard dirty martini. If they made that well, then I might try one of their signature cocktails, but if they couldn’t manage a regular martini, then I’d switch to beer or something.
Within a few minutes, I was handed the drink, the glass cool against my already cold hand. I sipped and was pleasantly surprised. The salty taste mixed with the gin was delicious. I pulled out the olive that was skewered on a cocktail stick and popped it in my mouth, crunching down on the briney goodness before washing it down with another sip of the martini.
When I stepped back outside, with a new martini in hand, the cold didn’t seem quite so biting, but that didn’t mean I didn’t feel it. I sat down at one of the outdoor tables and wrapped the blanket that was on the seat around me. Seren was finished interviewing the manager and seemed to be looking for me, so I waved.
Of course, when he spotted me, he scowled.
I didn’t know what I’d done to get on his bad side, but he was not a fan. Maybe I’d insulted him by saying the office needed cleaning. It wasn’t meant as a personal attack, but