Page 147 of Ice Darling
His eyes burrow into me, and his fingers burn through my black tank top to my stomach as he drifts his hand away and continues walking to the kitchen.
I remain in place, shocked and slightly hyperventilating.
Viking Renthrow presents himself as a reserved gentleman. But the way he puts his hands on me is the very opposite of respectable.
“Delia, over here!” Gordie insists.
I stumble to her and sit on the bench.
“Look.” She points at the sky. “There’s the big bear, and there’s the little bear.”
I look up. The stars are shining brilliantly, demanding to be seen and appreciated.
Scrunching my nose, I admit, “That doesn’t look like a bear to me.”
Gordie traces lines in the air. “It goes down and then to the side like this. It’s a bear, silly!”
“O-oh. Yeah. I mean, yeah…I see it now.” I squint.
“There’s going to be a meteor shower soon. Do you want to watch with me and Daddy?”
“How exciting!” Mom plops two plates down on the table. “Why don’t you come out here to watch it? We can have a meteor shower party.”
“Can we?” Gordie’s eyes practically turn into stars.
Renthrow returns to the porch then, and I give him a panicked look and a slight shake of my head.
“We already have a camping site in mind,” he tells Mom smoothly.
“You can camp out here while still being close to civilization,” Mom presses, hardly one to take no for an answer. “Gordie would love it.”
Gordie bobs her head enthusiastically.
“I appreciate that, but our plans are already set in stone,” Renthrow says.
“Very well, but the invitation is always there.” Mom backs off, and I want to kiss Renthrow in that moment more than I ever have.
Renthrow sits next to me.
Pleased, I hook our pinkies together under the table. His expression shifts subtly when I touch him, and he looks over at me.
I smile.
He smiles back.
I notice Mom watching us and withdraw my hand. “I’m starving. Let’s eat.”
Renthrow shares out a plate for Gordie.
“Daddy, I don’t want to eat broccoli,” Gordie complains when she sees her dad spooning out a big hill of vegetables.
“No broccoli, no dessert.”
I snag the plate from Renthrow. “How about I share half of the broccoli? Would that still qualify us for dessert?”
“Yeah, I’ll eat half, and Delia will eat half.”
“Gordie…” Renthrow begins in a scolding tone.
