Skating Over the Line by Joelle Charbonneau Page A

Rolls of hairy fat shook from side to side, then disappeared underneath yards of material.
    â€œLook,” he said, turning back to me with a frown. “There are lots of reasons why the field wouldn’t catch fire. Only, I can’t talk to you about them.”
    â€œBut I only—”
    â€œSorry. The guys are already giving me a hard time, my being new and all. The last thing I need is them finding out I talked to you about the fire. Besides, Deputy Stick-up-His-Ass read us the riot act about talking to anyone but him. You’re hot, but you’re not hot enough for me to risk pissing him off.”
    Robbie trudged into the firehouse, leaving me trying to decide whether I had just been insulted.
    I contemplated hanging around until the other firemen came back, then decided against it. Deputy Sean had beaten me here. None of these guys would be talking to little old me. There was only one person associated with the firehouse who would risk crossing Sean Holmes to give me information, and right now he probably had his hand up a cow’s behind. I was going to have to wait for Lionel to shower before grilling him.
    That in mind, I went back to the rink. I walked through the front door and stopped in my tracks. There was my father, standing on the rink’s sidelines, watching a class of seven- and eight-year-olds learn how to skate on one foot.
    Every muscle in my body tightened as I recalled how my father had stood in that same spot and watched my mother teach me how to skate. He’d always yelled encouragement when I fell. I fell a lot back then. I still did, only now I didn’t rely on Stan’s voice to help me get up. I got up all on my own.
    My father turned and spotted me in the doorway. His white shorts were pressed to perfection, as was his black polo shirt. A frown creased his face as he crossed to me. “Rebecca, honey, I heard what happened to you last night. Why didn’t you call us? We were worried.”
    For a moment, I thought he was using the royal we . Then I spotted my grandfather making a beeline for me. Pop was wearing black shorts and a white shirt. Together, they looked like Yin and Yang. It was kind of creepy.
    â€œI’m fine,” I assured the two of them.
    â€œThat’s not what Roxy said.” Pop wagged his finger at me. “She said you were threatened last night right outside the rink. You should have called me.”
    â€œYou couldn’t have done anything, Pop.”
    Pop straightened his bony shoulders. “I could have stayed here. I still can. That man won’t come back and bother you with me around.”
    â€œRight.” My father laughed. “You have as much chance of scaring off an intruder as a teacup terrier does.”
    Pop scowled. “I’ll have you know I’m the Senior Center’s arm-wrestling champ.” He flexed a nonexistent muscle in his bicep. “I can protect my granddaughter.”
    My father’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at Pop. “I’m back in town now, which means if Rebecca needs protecting, I’ll be the one to do it.”
    â€œYou’d run off at the first sign of trouble,” Pop yelled, puffing out his chest. “And, yes, I might not be young anymore, but Rebecca knows I’ll be around when she needs me. You can’t say that.”
    My father’s face turned three shades of red. He took a step forward, so only inches separated him and Pop. “Are you calling me a coward?”
    â€œIt’s the truth.” Pop adjusted his teeth and shot an evil grin at his adversary. Pop was having way too much fun. Stan wasn’t. A vein in his neck throbbed as he cracked his knuckles. Yep, Stan looked ready to explode. It was time to step in, before someone got hurt.
    â€œHey,” I hollered. Two pairs of testosterone-filled eyes swung in my direction. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need either one of you to stay with