Frosted Read Online Free

from the counter. “Forget it. I can just...”
    “Here we are.”
    Her voice tapered off as the door to the back room opened all the way and an older man, about her age, stepped into view.
    And damn if Grace Holden Luff didn’t feel her heart open as she lifted her gaze and slammed her eyes into his.
    Like any other blue-blooded New Englander worth her salt, Grace prided herself on her sense of composure. Which is why—as her fingers slowly balled into fists until her nails were curled painfully into the skin of her palm—her face betrayed nothing.
    His eyes were blue. Bright blue like the Caribbean Sea or the summer sky or the raspberry-flavored sno-cones they sold before the fireworks on the Fourth of July. A color blue that should be impossible in nature and yet there it was, in kind eyes fringed with dark lashes looking back at her from across a scuffed counter. He was solid and stocky, just about her height. His body was barrel-shaped, but fit, and his dark-blond hair was streaked with white, especially at the temples. His face wasn’t wrinkled, but his laugh lines were deep, and he had the look of a man who’d lived a good portion of his life outdoors, soaking up the sun, welcoming the buffet of the wind against his cheeks.
    “You the lady that needs the nines?” he asked, and she saw the father-son resemblance as his lips turned up into a grin, holding up the ski boots. “Binding was broken.”
    Her heart fluttered— fluttered!— as she watched his eyes crinkle with mischief.
    You're a tease, aren't you? she thought, wondering how many hearts had fallen for that smile in his lifetime. She physically fought the impulse to step forward, closer to him. She had a sudden thought that he’d smell like leather and fresh air and pine and she wanted to find out if she was right.
    For heaven’s sake, Grace, you're behaving like a teenager!
    Clearing her throat, she nodded at him.
    “So I heard,” she finally answered, her voice overly crisp, even in her own ears.
    “Fixed it,” he added as if she’d been warm instead of cool, and winking at her as his son had before.
    Her heart kicked into a higher gear and she swallowed before taking a deep breath. She knew her cheeks had colored because she could feel the flush of heat and rush of blood.
    “So I heard,” she said again, softening her tone this time. She felt her lips wanting to tilt up, wanting to answer his, but she didn’t let them. Overcome by her response to him, her first instinct was to flee the shop as quickly as possible…but where would she go? Back to the other silver wings? Oh, Lord, no.
    “You know how to use ‘em?” he asked, those blue eyes holding hers as he circled the counter.
    “S-Skis? Of course.”
    He laughed good-naturedly. “We get some folks here who want to try them out for the first time, and I always warn ‘em: It’s a hell of a work out.” His eyes flicked quickly down her body after he delivered this advice. His voice was a smidge lower and his eyes a trifle darker when he found her eyes and spoke again. “But I suspect you’ll be fine.”
    Grace blinked, fingering one pearl earring nervously. Was it her imagination or had this ski shop manager just checked her out? Fearing her heart would thump right through her rib cage and flop onto the rental shop floor, she pressed her hands to her cheeks and sat down on the bench vacated by the skaters.
    “I—I’ll just, ah…”
    Before she could catch her breath completely, he was kneeling at her feet, reaching for her rubber and leather snow boots, his gnarled, masculine hands surprisingly graceful as they opened her laces.
    “I’m Tray, by the way,” he said, then chuckled softly. “That rhymed.”
    Though he didn’t look up from unlacing her boots, the tips of his ears turned pink, and Grace fisted her fingers because she had an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch them.
    “Tray?” she asked. “That’s unusual. I mean, for our generation. I don’t recall