Page 174 of Ice Darling
When I park near the flood of cars waiting for repair, my eyes shift across the yard until they meet a beautiful woman in a black vest, jeans, and workbooks.
Cordelia has car parts laid out on the bumper and is testing each one with a tool. My heart feels lighter just looking at her.
No one else is around when I walk under the tent. I deduce that April is with Chance and Rebel is with Gunner. My teammates are spending as much time as they can with their girlfriends now that hockey season’s over and our schedule’s less hectic.
Cordelia bobs her head to the music in her headphones. I can hear the frantic guitar seeping out of her ears. She’s got that music dangerously loud if I can hear it so clearly.
I smile as I watch her for a second. How long has she been at the garage? This morning, I texted her to make sure she’d gotten home safe.
A reply never came.
If we’re going to do this, I need to have a real, adult conversation about her text response times. I don’t want to be clingy, but I also like knowing that she’s alive and well.
Especially because that bike of hers is so dangerous. If she doesn’t text back, I immediately start to worry.
I tap her shoulder to get her attention.
She shrieks and spins around. When she sees me, her eyes brighten in welcome.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” She pulls the headphones down, so they rest around her neck.
I wrap my arms around her waist and bend down, so I can rest my head on her shoulder.
She makes a cute gasping sound. “Renthrow, I’m all dirty.”
“You’re perfect.”
“You’ll get brake fluid all over you.”
I nuzzle my nose against her neck, inhaling the strong scent of engine oil. “So be it.”
She removes her gloves and then rests her hand on my head, lightly scraping my scalp. I groan in satisfaction. “That feels good.”
Cordelia gives me one more scratch, and then she pushes me off. “How much do you weigh? Even your head is heavy.”
“Believe it or not, you’re not the first person to tell me that.” I straighten and step back.
“Do you want to talk about something?” Her eyes darken in worry. “Is it Gordie? Does she need me?”
I circle her wrist with my fingers. “Gordie’s fine. She’s not the one who needs you.”
Cordelia gives me a puzzled look.
“It’s me.” I tap my chest. “I have no one to eat lunch with.”
She tilts her head. “I see. So that’s why there was no lunch box dropped off this morning.”
“I needed a bargaining chip.”
“Too bad. I’m busy.” She avoids looking at me.
Is she playing hard to get?
I step into her, noting the way she struggles to maintain her frown. “What do I need to do? Beg?”
“It’s not a bad idea.”
“I’m more of a negotiator than a beggar.” I slip her hands around my neck, place mine at her waist, and sway with her. “Phil’s donuts for a week.”
