Page 17 of Ice Princess

I want to argue, but I remember that my mother still works for the Kinseys. ‘They’re the boss, Rebel,’ mom always told me, growing up, ‘if you want to go far, make the Kinsey’s happy’.

Though I don’t agree with that, mom still does. I already took a risk coming over here to speak my mind. I don’t want to push Carol so far that she retaliates against my mother.

The ladies watch me with satisfied smirks.

Humiliation burns my ears red.

Carol’s got me pinned against the proverbial wall. I’m done for. There’s nothing I can do except withdraw and lick my wounds while they all laugh at me.

In the midst of my chaotic emotions, I feel a shadow standing behind my chair. Gunner is there, his eyes on his mom.

In a deep, rough voice, he says, “If that’s the case, there shouldn’t be a problem with Rebel joining you.”

“S-son,” Carol’s eyes dart back and forth, “what do you mean by that? She’s not?—”

Gunner plants his hands on each of my shoulders, tugs me to my feet and says in that quiet, frosty way of his, “Rebel and I are dating.”

CHAPTER

SIX

GUNNER

The words feel sogood leaving my mouth that I wonder if I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life.

Rebel reels away, glaring at me with fire in her ice-blue eyes.

Horrified shock spills across the faces of the Ladies, but I’m… calm.

I place a hand to my chest and realize that there are no heart skips. My pulse is hammering steadily as it’s supposed to.

In fact, I feel downrightalive.

“Gunner?” Mom clutches her cheek as if she’s been slapped.

“You said it yourself, mom.” I nod to Rebel. “Certain privileges are given to the wives and girlfriends of the Kinseys. I just wanted you to know who those privileges rightly belong to.”

Marjorie’s jaw smashes to the floor.

I straighten my shoulders. “Rebel and I?—”

“Uh…” Mom slumps over the table and groans in pain.

I jump into action, racing to her side. “Mom?”

“I think I need to lie down.”

“I’ll get you some water,” I offer.

“No.” Mom’s grip tightens on my arm. “Take me home.”

“Carol…” Rebel’s soft voice trembles through the air.

My eyes flash to her. She’s staring at mom, her blue eyes brimming with concern and guilt.

Sensing that she’s blaming herself, I tell Rebel, “She’s fine. I’ve got her. You can go home.”

Rebel flinches and I realize those words came out wrong.

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