Crashed by Elise Faber

Epilogue

Part Two

Scarlett

Fannyall but sailed across the ice, pretty and graceful, and on a love-hazed cloud.

Scar’s heart squeezed tight.

It would have been nice if she’d fallen for Charlie, but it was pretty damned great that she’d fallen for Brandon.

Who was working at a table in the corner of the rink, his laptop open, his earbuds in, papers spread out on the chair next to him. Even though he had a cushy corner office at Prestige Media Group, he preferred to bundle up and work where he could see the woman he loved.

A little girl was crying on the ice, but before Scar could make her somewhat shaky way over to her—they couldn’t all be graceful silver medalist skaters—Fanny knelt and comforted the little girl, and in just a few seconds, they were both on their feet and back to class.

And Brandon was staring at his woman with warm eyes.

God.

She wanted that.

No. No, she didn’t. She wanted to keep working. As assistant publicist for the Gold, her job was to manage the team’s social media and do her best to keep the public loving them.

It wasn’t hard.

The guys were great.

As great as Brandon was.

“Mrs. Scar.”

She blinked, forcing her eyes away from Brandon and his obvious affection for Fanny, and looking down at the tiny boy at her knees. “Hey, Dominic. Everything okay?”

His bottom lip wobbled.

Oh shit.

“Hey, buddy,” she said, clumsily getting to her knees. “Talk to me.”

That lip kept wobbling and was now joined by tears.

Fuck.

“Candace said that I’m bad at skating.”

Allthe kids were bad at skating. That’s why she—equally as bad, or perhaps maybe marginally better, depending on who was judging—was helping out with class. She wasn’t good enough at skating to help any other time.

Front and back.

Slow turns.

Doing her best to not eat shit.

And mostly she succeeded.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell him they were all terrible.

“You’re doing really good, buddy,” she said. “You’re just learning, and I know you’ll be good in no time.”

The tears were still there, but they were slowing. “Really?” he said, snot trailing under his nose.

“Really,” she said, shuddering. She started to pull a packet of tissues out of her pocket, kept there for exactly this reason, but before she could get one out, someone else skated over.

Someone tall and handsome, who had her in a constant battle to keep her panties up and around her hips.

They just wanted to drop right off anytime Kaydon was around.

He had arms that made her drool, a strong jaw with a hint of stubble she wanted trailing over her skin, and lips that would pillow perfectly against hers.

If only they didn’t work together.

She liked this job.

She loved this job.

Which meant she wanted to keep it.

And while the Gold were a treasure trove of couples working together and living out their happy endings, Scarlett didn’t have that track record.

When she was in a relationship, things never went well.

And that unwell transitioned into her life, her job, her happiness.

She had terrible taste in men, and when those relationships ended, her shit got dive-bombed. She lost her job. She got kicked out of her apartments. She was dogged by debt collectors, or psycho ex-girlfriends she hadn’t know existed (or were wives, in one case—and not the ex-variety—and the reason the man she’d been dating had become her ex), or mothers who were pissed that the wedding they’d been planning without Scar’s permission (or their son’s, for that matter) was off.

So, suffice to say, she was on a break from men.

It was work and friends and rebuilding her life.

No. Men.

But one look at Kaydon when he’d joined the team made her want to reconsider her hiatus. But it was more than his glorious jaw and yummy stumble. He was nice and talented and was just a really decent guy.

Case in point?

Now.

Kaydon bent next to them, scooped up Dominic. He said something that made Dom laugh, and he didn’t seem to care when Dom rubbed his snotty nose against Kay’s shoulder.

His big hand came to the back of Dom’s helmet, and then he took off with the little boy in his arms, zigging and zagging through the cones, avoiding the other kids effortlessly.

Dom laughed and held on and by the time they circled back, both man and boy had huge smiles on their faces.

A moment later, Dom’s skates were on the ice, Kay holding him steady as he spoke quietly.

Scarlett couldn’t make out the words, only could see Dom nod intently before he threw his arms around Kaydon’s neck. And, oh sweet baby Jesus, her ovaries, because Kaydon didn’t hesitate, just hugged him back and patted him lightly on the helmet before lightly pushing him forward so he could rejoin the other kids. Scar could barely resist the urge to clamp her hands to her heart and sigh, the longing to know him better was so intense.

Used to shoving that longing down—she’d done it for nearly an entire season—she pushed to her feet and continued to patrol the ice, making sure everyone was happy and tear-free and staying far, far away from Kaydon, lest he see that longing.

Eventually—thank God, for her ovaries—Fanny blew the whistle, and the classes were over.

Scar’s feet ached, but she started cleaning up the ice, so Fan didn’t have to, trying deliberately to not notice that Kaydon was picking up cones much more rapidly than she was.

And moving closer to her and her bumbling self.

“I can get this, you know?” he rumbled, skating past her, a pile of cones in his arms.

Much bigger than the pile she’d managed to collect.

“I know,” she said.

Not that he could hear her.

He was already on the other side of her ice.

The rink had cleared out. The kids in the lobby, Brandon and Fanny in deep discussion over something at his makeshift workstation. Scar lumbered to the door to the ice, her cones the worst sort of Jenga tower, and managed to just barely climb up the step as Kaydon returned from stashing the supplies around the corner.

“Let me,” he began.

She walked right by him.

“Okay,” he muttered.

She ignored him. It was much better for her sanity.

But apparently today, he was done with her ignoring him. “What’s your problem?” he asked, following her into the narrow hallway.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, gracelessly bending so she could place the cones on the stack.

She mostly succeeded.

Mostly because a few tumbled off and scattered on the ground. Stifling a curse, she knelt and started picking them up.

So did Kaydon.

Fucking hell. She was trying to be good.

“Scarlett.”

Cones. Cones!

She set one on the stack, but because she wasn’t paying attention, that setting resulting in knocking over, and the cones went everywhere.

Shit.

She reached for them, hands flailing, trying to shift around without slicing hers or Kaydon’s—since he was too damned nice and still helping her—fingers off.

“Scarlett.”

A warning this time.

Glancing down, she realized exactly where she was reaching. His crotch. Well, for the cone that was less than an inch from his crotch.

She froze, but before she could pull back, his fingers encircled her wrist.

Warm and a little rough.

Her lips parted on an exhale, and she shivered.

“Scarlett,” he said again, and this time his voice was like his fingers, warm and a little rough.

She wobbled. He shifted a little closer, smoothing a lock of her hair off her cheek. “Why don’t you like me, Scar?”

Still processing all that warm and rough and him smoothing back her hair, it took her a second to process his question. But the moment she did, she unstuck, laughter bubbling up her throat and filling the air.

He let her laugh for a minute before his hand—the one not tracing light and lovely circles on her wrist—reached up and cupped her cheek. “I don’t love being on the butt end of a joke, baby.”

That stoppered up her guffawing.

His thumb moved, swiped at the skin beneath her eyes, and she realized that she’d been laughing so hard, she had tears on her cheeks.

“You’re not a joke, Kaydon.”

He was so far away from that it wasn’t even funny. She was the joke. She was the one who was trying to be good.

She was the one who was going to fail.

Again.

Because she leaned forward, whispered before he could reply, “It’s not that I don’t like you, Kay. It’s that you are the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.”

And then she kissed him.

—Cycled is coming October 5th!