Page 11 of Snow, Ice, and Spice
Maya purses those gorgeous bee-stung lips, like she’s annoyed with me already. “Dead serious, Theo.”
What the hell? I can’t believe this. I call Ingrid.
“I know this is a bit of a shock,” my cousin says instead of “hello.”
“Ingrid, what’s going on?” I say, stunned. “You sent your best friend to babysit me?”
There’s a pause on her end. “Theo, listen. I’m behind you one hundred percent. I believe you have what it takes to clean up your act and your image to save your career. Maya’s just there as backup.”
“Backup?” I almost laugh at how ridiculous this is.
“She’s there to make sure that you don’t fail.”
“She’s here to police my every move, you mean.”
“Come on, Theo. Think of it like she’s there to help you.”
I glance at Maya, who’s glaring at me. I know for a fact that Maya would rather smother me in my sleep with a pillow than help me.
“You sure about that?” I say to Ingrid.
She sighs. “Theo, I love you to bits. I’m here for you no matter what, and I’m happy to have you stay at my place. But let’s be straight with each other, okay? You have a history of partying like a wild man and leaving a trail of destruction in your wake. I don’t want my house to be a casualty of that.”
My cousin’s sweetly spoken words cut deep. And I deserve it. Because she’s right. With my track record, I should have expected Ingrid to do something like this. I can’t be mad that she’s treating me like an irresponsible teenager when that’s how I’ve been acting almost my whole life.
Awareness finally hits, and right along with it comes a hefty dose of shame. I’m such a fuck-up that even my good-natured cousin doubts that I’ll be able to change my ways.
“I get it,” I say to Ingrid. “Sorry for getting upset just now. You’re letting me stay in your home. You have every right to do whatever makes you feel comfortable.”
“Thanks for understanding,” she says.
We tell each other goodbye and I hang up, the urge to shrink into myself hitting hard. I’m a twenty-eight-year-old man-child who has to be chaperoned by my cousin’s best friend. God, I’m pathetic.
I shove that thought aside. Enough of this self-loathing loser act, especially not in front of Maya, who probably already thinks that about me. Yeah, it sucks to know that my cousin and her friend believe that I’m incapable of acting like a responsible adult. But it’s not like they’re the only ones who think that about me. My coach, my teammates, my agent, hockey fans…literally everyone thinks I’m a reckless, irresponsible loser. There’s only one way to change that: prove them all wrong.
When I glance up, Maya’s glare is dialed back to a harsh frown. She hangs up her coat on the nearby hook.
I grin. “Welcome home, roomie. And fish.”
Her glare is back with a vengeance at my teasing words. But honestly, it’s worth it because now seeing how cute she looks when she’s angry has distracted me from feeling all hurt and embarrassed.
“Let’s get something straight,” Maya says. “I’m here to do a job for my best friend. And that’s to make sure you behave yourself while you’re living in her home. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Damn, that’s too bad. I was hoping we could have pillow fights and braid each other’s hair.”
That tell-tale red flush spreads across her full cheeks. Christ, she’s hot when she’s pissed.
She grabs her bag and pulls out a notepad. “I made a list of house rules for you.”
“You what?”
“You heard me,” she says while flipping through the pages. “Rule number one: no alcohol.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Nope. Rule two—”
“Whoa, wait.” I hold up a hand. “I can’t even have, like, one beer with dinner?”
