Page 37 of The Rebound Play

“I like this,” I murmur.

“Carving pumpkins?”

I nudge her with my elbow. “Yeah. That’s what I mean,” I joke, and we share a smile.

We may be surrounded by pumpkin carvers and festival goers and busy bodies like Mrs. Nelson telling me what to do, but I don’t care. I want Keira to know how I feel.

It’s now or never.

But then a little voice inside my head asks, what if she only wants to be friends? What if I’ve misread this whole situation? What if she’s happy to keep what we had in the past? Because if that’s how she responds, if that’s what she truly wants, then the torch of hope I’ve been carrying with me all these years, the torch that has grown into a bonfire, will be extinguished forever.

I glance at this beautiful woman at my side, mouth twisted as she concentrates hard on her carving.

All my hopes could be extinguished by her in one short sentence.

I’m not ready for that to happen. Not now. Not ever.

So, instead I finish up my pumpkin and enjoy the moment with her, sitting side by side with the woman I love, still holding out the hope that she does still love me, just as I still love her.

CHAPTER 10

KEIRA

I peer over the top of my book, not wanting Dan to know I’m watching him. He’s teaching Benny how to move on the ice as he nudges the puck with his stick, giving him encouragement and pointers. Every time I watch them together, my heart fills to the brim. I can’t help it. The man who once meant so much to me—the man, I admit, who still means so much to me—helping one of my other favorite humans to realize a goal? Well, it can’t but tug at my heartstrings like an eager dog on its leash.

As I watch Dan congratulate Benny after he hits the puck into the goal, I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help imagining that Dan is mine and he’s helping Benny learn to play hockey because he loves his nephew and wants the best for him.

His nephew.

Argh! Stop! I’ve got no business thinking about Dan in that way. No business whatsoever. It’s totally reckless, and it’ll only hurt that much more when he leaves Maple Falls to go back to his life—a life that doesn’t include me or Benny or the town or anything I hold dear.

He leads a life I don’t even understand. A life of glamour and excitement, of travel and new people. Of beautiful women, shamelessly flirting with him.

A knot forms in my belly as an image pops into my mind of a woman dressed in his jersey, tied up into a knot to show off her perfectly formed, curvaceous figure, her long hair falling seductively around her gorgeous face. She’s leaning on the table, close enough to Dan to reach out and touch him, seducing him in broad daylight.

As if it’s not hard enough to see Dan back here in our hometown, now I have deal with the way women respond to him being thrown in my face by Miss Perfect Butt.

Yup, I noticed her perfect behind. It was hard to miss, encased as it was in those skintight pants of hers, sitting at the top of her long slim legs like a peach.

I blow out a breath, giving up on my book.

I can’t compete with women like that. I’ve never been able to compete with women like that. Not back in high school with the perky cheerleaders and pretty girls, and certainly not today. They’re so glossy and shiny and perfect looking. I’m none of those things.

I’m … well, I’m just me.

When it comes to a man like Dan, I know that’s not enough. Not when he’s got women like Miss Perfect Butt showcasing her wares in front of his very face, like a sexy neon sign.

I pick up my book once more, but the words dance before my eyes.

How bad have I got it when I can’t even concentrate on reading a book? And not just any book. It’s the latest Emily Henry, which I put on preorder with Emmy months ago, and I’ve been so looking forward to reading it.

But then I remember the way Dan told me his Ice Breakers number represents my birthday, and my silly heart leaps with hope, asking, what about the way he looked at me at the pumpkin carving? Instantly, an image of Dan’s face fills my mind. His eyes soft, his voice intimate, and we sat so close I could smell his scent, an intoxicating cocktail of spice and musk and that unique, undeniable scent of him. The one I remember from high school.

Was I imagining it? Was he about to say something to me? To act on his feelings?

Whatever his feelings might be.

I chew on my lip and try to focus on reading a line. I fail, the words bouncing around like balloons on a string. I look up to see Dan kneeling down to Benny’s eye level saying something before straightening up to demonstrate a simple maneuver. Benny, bundled up as he is in a little jersey and helmet, nods seriously, his small skates already moving with confidence, a determined expression on his face.