Page 162 of Ice Darling
I clear my throat. “C-congratulations.”
“Who was that?” Rebel asks. “Was it Renthrow?”
I nod guiltily. “He had a question.”
“Mm. What kind of question?” April asks as her lips curl up at the corners.
“Just…about the team.”
“Is that why you were smiling so hard?” May tilts her head to the side and looks innocently at me.
“Don’t forget. She was also twirling her hair like this.” Rebel wraps one of her blond strands around her finger.
“Are you and Renthrow dating for real?” May demands.
“Well…” I rub my temple sheepishly.
“I called it!” May throws her hands high and swings her hips. “I told you she was the one who’d break Renthrow. Itoldyou!”
To my surprise, Rebel and April hand May a stack of bills.
I frown. “Did you guys bet on me?”
“Technically, we bet on Renthrow not falling for any woman ever. It wasn’t about you, per se,” April admits.
May counts the bills gleefully.
I shake my head. “Unbelievable.”
“If you saw Renthrow before you came to Lucky Falls, you’d understand. He didn’t letanywoman close.” Rebel pats my shoulder. “You did the impossible, Delia. You’re pretty much Belle fromBeauty and the Beast.”
“Renthrow’s not a beast,” I correct her.
May barks out a laugh. “Look, she’s ready to fight.”
I glance down at my fisted hands and relax them.
April smiles. “Renthrow’s the sweetest. We just meant that he’s a beast about Gordie. I should have known, though, when he allowed you to get so close to her, that he was falling for you too.”
Blushing, I shoo them from the car. “If you’re done messing with me, I’m working on a knock sensor, and the client’s coming tomorrow.”
April walks off with a knowing grin.
Rebel winks at me.
May makes kissy noises, but they all obediently disperse.
I turn the solar fans toward me and get back to adjusting the knock sensor. However, the promise of a date with Renthrow shimmers before me, and I keep smiling to myself.
I’m counting down the hours until I see him and Gordie tonight.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Renthrow
I dip a spoon into the sauce for the grilled fish and taste it. “Is it too bland?” I smack my lips to assess. “I think it might be too bland.”
Picking up the seasoning bottle, I prepare to sprinkle more when I second-guess myself. What if I put too much, and it’s over-seasoned, and Cordelia hates it?
