Thin Ice (Power Play Series Book #2)

Chapter Forty-Six × Frozen Tundra Called Toronto

"This is ridiculous." Rosie tells me, looking up at me with an attempt at being angry; except, she ends up looking so adorable that I have to lean over and give her a kiss. She's wearing one of my massive winter jackets from the first few years when I lived here and was in the league; and despite being still around the same size as I am now, it looks gigantic on her.

She's so fucking cute.

"You look great." I respond, having to restrain myself from telling her - and showing her, just how freaking beautiful she looks right now. I would tell her in every language, every way possible - including one with my tongue between her thighs.

What? I didn't say anything.

"You don't have to come with me." She reminds me, like she hasn't told me that already about thirty thousand times. It's just after six in the morning and despite being Christmas - the day you would think all the kids would be jumping up and down as soon as dawn hit, everyone's still fast asleep.

I guess maybe that's because it's not dawn yet. In Toronto, in the Winter, sunrise doesn't happen usually until about seven or eight. We get a few hours of daylight before it goes back down again; one time, it was dark at like two in the afternoon. Then again, I think there was a meteor shower.

"I know." I answer, zipping up my own jacket - which fits me perfectly fine, before sliding my toque over my head. My outfit finishes with a pair of warm mitts that I used to wear whenever I'd go to the ODR (Outdoor Rink) as a kid. Yeah, I haven't grown much since I was about sixteen. Maybe that's why I got drafted so young.

Rosie, on the other hand, looks like the most beautiful girl in the world - probably because she is. Wearing one of my old jackets and a pair of winter boots that Cassidy lent her (I'm sure she wouldn't mind). Even when she's wearing the baggiest thing you can think of, she looks so hot I can barely handle myself around her.

I mean, I could definitely handle myself around her - or let her handle me, but handle myself in a PG sort-of, way. This trip also didn't come without my own ulterior motives, which is spending some quality time with Rosie - hopefully with no interruptions.

Back home, there's Kayden interrupting us every five seconds; and as long as we're waiting for the people to accept our offer on their house, that doesn't leave us with much alone time. And I, need alone time. I need time to talk to her and hold her hand and yes, make out with her, a lot.

I've never felt like this about anyone, even a high school crush that I couldn't get because she had a boyfriend. Someone that I both, want to rip the clothes off of (in a respectful way) and then spend the rest of the night talking with. Someone that's both my best friend and lover, at the same time and without caveat.

"Here, let me." I tell her, a few minutes later when we hit the first roadblock of our walk: a snow hill. Really, it's just a giant lump of frozen water and I'm sure she could get around it on her own, but that's why I'm here, so she doesn't have to. Also, so that nobody tries to pick her up - because for some reason, even when a woman is wearing something that clearly says fuck off, people still catcall her.

Everytime someone looks at Rosie in that way, I basically stare them down for a full minute. It just pisses me off; both because she's my girlfriend and I don't want people looking at her like that - and also because why can't she go for a walk without being disturbed by some teenage-rock star-wannabe?

She told me the story about the time when that kid in Target came up to her and basically asked for nudes, and I had to pull over because I was so pissed off.

"Thanks." She says, after I help her over - of course, after she's protested against my efforts five ways to Sunday. She's the type that will never ask for help but still appreciate it even more when someone does, regardless. It's like she's used to doing everything on her own, but is slowly realizing and learning that she doesn't have to. I can help. I want to help.

We walk in silence for a few minutes, merely enjoying each other's company and taking in the moment. At least, I am - I hope she is too; sometimes it's hard to tell when Rosie's head is here and when it's on Saturn. I know she's been stressed about money lately; and even though I've offered to help her out (in more ways than one) she refuses it.

I don't understand why she has to be so stubborn about it. When we get married, any money or debt she has is going to become my debt as well; and I don't know about you, but I don't like paying interest on things. So really, letting me take care of things would be helping the both of us. Plus, it's not like I'll miss it; and any money lost would be recoopered in the stress lifted off of her.

"So, I've been thinking..." I begin, knowing that Rosie hates serious conversations and any way I try to slice it, there's no good way to try and start this one. Not because it's a hard one to have but because it's a serious one and I know she gets anxious sometimes - okay, all the time. Also, I don't want her to think that this whole taking her to meet my parents thing was some sort of test I put her through to make sure I wanted to go through with the decision I'm about to talk to her about. "When we get back home, we should start looking at rings."

I steal a glance at her, waiting to see what her reaction will be. Sure, it's not the most romantic way for someone to find out you're planning on proposing to them. But the thing is, Rosie hates surprises, she hates not knowing what's going to happen; she hates the unexpected.

And as much as I'd like to do something super fucking cheesy and romantic and unexpected, and really blow her away, I know that's not what she would want. She would want to know that something's gonna happen and time to mentally prepare herself.

Obviously, I'm not gonna fill her in on all the details, but I'm definitely gonna be dropping massive, massive, hints. Like going ring shopping together.

"For what?" She doesn't react. Her face doesn't change, not even the slightest. She's focused on our feet which are navigating an icy patch of this frozen tundra called Toronto. It used to be what I called home; but now home is with my girl.

I can't help but crack a smile, never failing to appreciate how unaware she is of her beauty. She likes to think of herself as some bitter old grandma that would scare even the greediest of trick-or-treaters away, but I know that's not true. Rosie's the most caring, generous, genuine, person I know. And that's just touching the surface on why I want to spend the rest of my life with her.

I could tell you all of them - or at least try to, because I'm sure I would miss some, or eventually lose my voice; but I think some of them would be a little too R-Rated for anyone else's ears. 

"For an engagement ring, babe." I tell her, making eye contact with her at the exact moment that she realizes what I'm actually saying and what it would entail. I wonder if she'll freak out, run the other way, fake an injury, pretend to slip and fall just to avoid saying the word no.

I don't think she would say no; then again, a man wouldn't propose to his girlfriend in front of a stadium full of people if he thought she would decline his heart. Not that I would ever do that, because I think she would kill me for proposing in front of a crowd. But I'm perceptive enough to be able to tell that despite her reluctance, I've really made a dent in Rosie's heart.

That, and the fact that we talk about kids and what the future will be like. And that she tells me she loves me, which is more than she's ever told anyone else. I'm the first - and hopefully only man, that she'll ever say I love you to. That isn't blood related, I'm not Christian Grey with a vendetta against my kid because he was inside my wife.

The longer I wait though, for Rosie to say something, the more I begin to wonder if I overestimated myself.