Page 144 of Ice Princess

FORTY-ONE

REBEL

A knockon my door sends my head shooting up from my computer and papers fluttering all over my thrift-store coffee table.

Gunner’s deep voice vibrates through solid wood and concrete. “Rebel?”

Anticipation and surprise whips my heart into a gallop.He’s early!

I throw my front door open. Gunner appears, wearing a simple white button down shirt and a pair of dark jeans. His hair hangs low, hiding his pale blue eyes and giving him a menacing air.

If I didn’t know what a softie he is under that intimidating stare and those broad-as-a-building shoulders, I’d probably slam the door and run to hide under my bed.

He greets me with a nod and lifts his arm to wave. It’s then that I hear plastic rustling and realize that he’s holding a grocery bag filled with giant leafy stems. In his other hand, he’s holding a case of my favorite pink lemonade.

“You’re early,” I say, pushing the door open wider and flattening my back against it so he can step inside.

Gunner’s so powerfully built that even though I give him plenty of space, his shoulder still brushes against me as he passes by.

“I’m right on time,” he says.

My eyes bulge. “Is it eight already?” I stampede to the couch where I set up my temporary ‘office’ and push aside folders, documents and my clipboard to locate my phone.

Once I press the button, the screen lights up and reveals the time in giant, neon-pink numbers.

“Oh my gosh. I can’t believe it’s eight already. I didn’t even notice.”

Gunner’s lips inch up ever so slightly and I can tell he doesn’t mind how scatterbrained I’m being about our date.

His gaze meanders slowly down my tank top, shorts and pink bunny slippers. A blush steals across my face. I originally planned on taking a shower, blowing out my hair and wearing something nice before Gunner arrived.

This is not how I planned to look on our first official date.

“Don’t watch me.” I pounce on him and set my hand over his eyes. “I need to get ready.”

Gunner grips my wrist and lowers my hand, shaking his head.

“I haven’t showered since I came back from the garage,” I argue. “I still smell like engine oil and exhaust. I’ll be quick.” I turn to walk away when I feel a tug on my wrist—which is still in Gunner’s grip.

He yanks me back to him using only a smidge of his strength and I go stumbling into his chest.

Gunner steadies my chin beneath his giant hands.

I catch a whiff of his light cologne mixed with the fragrance of fresh mint.De-licious.I want to bottle up his fragrance and sellit as a car freshener to all The Pink Garage customers. It would fly off the shelves.

Gunner presses closer to me, the warmth of him a magnetic pull that I can’t resist. Like spark to an ignition, I lean in too, gasping softly when he bypasses my lips and instead keeps going past my cheek to my neck.

I freeze, every nerve alight as he inhales deeply.

My heart stutters like a car with a bad starter.

“You smell... amazing,” he murmurs in that deep, gravelly voice.

My knees betray me, buckling wildly like I’m standing in the middle of an earthquake. His scent, his voice, his words—they’re intoxicating.

Out of sheer necessity, I dig my fingers into the collar of his shirt to keep myself steady.

Gunner steps back and taps my nose. “Keep working. I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready.”

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