Page 22 of Ice Darling
I laugh. Shaina’s been my emergency babysitter on the days when Miss Truman was out of town, so we know each other well. I also know that she’s saving up for college and can be bought.
“What’s my bill?”
“That’ll be?—”
“Charge it to this,” Cordelia says, striking out a black card without looking at me.
“Don’t you understand English?” I grumble as I extend my own card. It’s not black, but it’s got enough to pay for our meal and her fries.
“Today’s little ‘mix-up’ was probably orchestrated by my mother. It’s my fault you wasted your time today, so I should pay. It’s only fair.”
I turn to her, noting the way she stiffens when our eyes meet. “I have never andwillnever let a woman pay for a meal that’s shared with me.”
“Shared with—this wasn’t a date,” she bites out. As if I need that clarification.
My tone hardens. “I’m aware of that.”
“Then why can’t I pay?”
“This is my personal principle. I’m showing my daughter how a gentleman behaves, so she doesn’t expect any less in the future.”
“You? A gentleman?” One hand anchors to her hip. “Wouldn’t a gentleman help a lady in distress instead of coldly walking away from her?”
She’s intentionally picking a fight, but I’m tired of the back and forth. Since Miss Davenport has already determined that I’m not a gentleman, I decide to hammer in the point and snatch her credit card out of her grip.
“Hey!” Cordelia protests.
“Shaina.” I shake my card at her.
“Got it.” Shaina takes it and taps it on the scanner.
Cordelia’s eyes burn with anger. I can’t say I’m bothered by that.
“Here you go.” Shaina hands me my card back.
I smile at her, tip my card in a salute at Cordelia, and turn around, shooting out a sarcastic, “Don’t have to thank me, darlin’.”
Her bitter laughter rings behind me.
I smile a bit wider.
But, as I’m walking back to the table where Gordie is scribbling furiously on her tablet, I feel someone touching mybum. I whirl around, surprised to find the little spitfire stuffing cash in my back pocket.
I stare at her in shock.
She gives me a victorious smile. “I’m a Davenport, Mr. Renthrow. We don’t take kindly to owing debts.”
I stand still, a strange, unfamiliar heat unfurling from deep in my stomach and lashing through my veins.
If this isn’t the most bull-headed, dramatic, irritating slip of a woman…
Reaching between us, I hook my finger around the belt loop of her jeans and tug. She stumbles forward, landing flush against my chest. Bambi eyes, which were already a tad too big, now take up half her face.
“W-what are you doing?”
Heck if I know.
But let the record show that she started this.
