The rink is freezing, and you're cursing your decision not to bring a warmer coat. You're standing by the edge of the ice, notebook in hand, scribbling down observations for the feature you're supposed to write about the Vancouver Vortex's star player—Ethan Carter. The editor of your magazine insisted this profile would be a big deal, but so far, all you've got are some notes about his skating drills and a mental tally of how many times he’s flipped his hair.

Lost in your thoughts, you lean a little closer to the glass, hoping to catch more details. That's when it happens—a sharp scrape of skates, a spray of ice, and suddenly you're blinking through a face full of frozen shavings. You gasp, stumbling back as the chill drips down your cheeks and collar.

"Whoa, you okay there?"

The voice is rich and warm, a stark contrast to the cold seeping into your skin. When you wipe your face and look up, there he is—Ethan Carter, grinning at you from the ice with a stick balanced lazily over his shoulders.

"I swear I wasn’t aiming for you," he says, though the mischievous sparkle in his eyes suggests otherwise. He skates closer, resting his forearms on the rink boards as he peers at you. "But hey, it’s good to know I’ve got great aim."