She should be grateful, she told herself sternly. Kenny had told her he had issues with her being a single mom and they made sense. He wasn’t playing games or trying to trick her or being anything but friendly, open and honest.

“Dinner sounds like fun,” she said. “I don’t have a thing to wear, but I’ll figure it out.”

“I have a spare jersey.” He winked. “It’ll be really big on you but with a belt and some accessories...”

She swatted at his arm. “Thanks, but no. And for the record, a belt is an accessory.”

“Really? I thought it was just a belt.”

They stared at each other for a second. Tension crackled between them—at least on her side. She doubted he noticed. Although if he did, maybe he would kiss her. Because while she wasn’t up to casual sex, a kiss could be nice. It had been a long time between kisses.

Worried he could read her mind, she quickly turned away. Too quickly, it turned out, as her foot slid out from under her.

She instinctively raised her arms as she tried to find her balance. Kenny reached for her but she was too far away. She staggered a couple of steps, started to fall, then felt a pain in the side of her ankle as she went down.

Her first thought was that the ice was both cold and hard. Her second was that she looked like an idiot. Ankle concerns came in a distant third.

Kenny knelt next to her. “Are you okay? What hurts? Your wrist? Your hip?”

She tried to figure out how to stand without falling again. “I’m okay. I lost my balance.” Probably not in an elegant way, either. She shifted to put her weight on her skates, only to gasp as searing heat ripped through her left ankle. Okay, that wasn’t good at all.

Kenny reached for her foot. “You hurt yourself.”

“Just a little.”

“You winced.”

“I’m wimpy.”

He had her skate off in five seconds and then removed her sock. The skin around her ankle bone seemed a little puffy, but it was a small price to pay for the feel of those strong, large hands touching her.

Kenny had her move her toes, then her whole foot. The sharp pain had faded to something fairly dull.

“I’m pretty sure I can stand,” she said, reaching for her sock.

“Let’s get you to a bench and take it from there.”

He put the sock back on her foot, then stood and reached for her. She shrank away.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you to your feet.”

She was tall and carrying an extra twenty-five pounds. “I’m okay. I’ll just crawl over.” The bench wasn’t that far away. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

He scowled at her. “I can bench-press over three hundred pounds. I can get you to your feet.”

His tone said he’d been insulted. This probably wasn’t the time to explain she didn’t doubt his strength—that she was more concerned about her own personal bulk. Either way, the ice was really cold and she could see Chloe skating toward them.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “I appreciate the help.”

He bent down and actually picked her up. Like she was as light as a rag doll. Then the man carried her to the bench.

It all happened so fast, she didn’t know what to think. Once second she was on ice, the next she was perched on the bench.

Chloe hurried over. “Mom, what happened?”

“I fell. I’m fine.”

“She sprained her ankle,” Kenny said. “I want you checked out. We’re going to the hospital. They’ll take an X-ray, just to be sure.” He pulled Chloe close. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll be with both you every step of the way.”

* * *

ONE X-RAY, a car ride and second trip in Kenny’s arms as he carried her up to her apartment later, Bailey found herself relaxing on her bed. The E.R. doctor had confirmed a mild sprain. Bailey was to take it easy for a couple of days. She had crutches, a compression bandage and instructions to use ice and an anti-inflammatory. The doctor had assured her she wouldn’t need the crutches more than a day or two. He’d also been impressed by Kenny’s skill in wrapping the compression bandage. No doubt the former NFL player had a lot of practice.

Kenny and Chloe disappeared into the kitchen only to return a few minutes later with a tray of hot chocolate and several cookies on a plate.

“We need a snack,” Kenny told her.

Chloe climbed up next to her mother while Kenny sat in the chair by Bailey’s small corner desk. He dwarfed the furniture, which should have looked silly but for some reason she found comforting.

Bailey accepted the mug of hot chocolate and wondered at the improbability of the situation. She’d thought about getting Kenny into her bedroom and it had happened. But somehow this was not the scenario she’d fantasized about.

“Are you feeling okay?” Chloe asked anxiously.

“Honey, I’m fine.” Bailey stroked her daughter’s hair. “I fell and I feel foolish. My ankle will be a lot better by tomorrow.”

“You have to use crutches.”

“Not for long. People get hurt and then they get better.”

Chloe nodded, but didn’t look convinced. Bailey was sure it was harder for her than for most kids. She’d already lost her father—she wouldn’t want to see her mother as vulnerable.

“I’m staying,” Kenny announced.

Bailey blinked at him. “Excuse me?”