Page 73 of Ice Darling
“Call me in fifteen years, Renthrow.”
I laugh.
“Here you go, hun.” Another administrator hands me my credit card and a receipt.
“Thanks.” I tap my card twice on the counter. “Ladies.”
“Bye!” They chorus as one.
I fold the invoice into my back pocket and make my way to the hospital garden that’s located on the east side of the building.
My steps slow as I spot Gordie and Cordelia looking up at a thick crab apple tree. The breeze ruffles Cordelia’s hair, and she tucks it back gracefully, pointing at a bird nestled in thetree’s branches. With her face upturned, Cordelia’s pretty neck is exposed, and I realize that I’ve never seen a neck that elegant.
Which is crazy.
Since when have I been into necks?
Cordelia’s in her usual all-black today. A black tank top tucked into tight black jeans. She doesn’t wear a jumpsuit like the other female mechanics, so her arms and elbows are streaked with the evidence of her handwork.
The way the dark smudges smear against her pale skin is absolutely beautiful, like a painting…
My heart picks up speed, and I inhale deeply.
I must be getting heatstroke.
I’ve found myself noticing Cordelia’s beauty more and more lately. And while it’s perfectly natural to admire an attractive woman, I can no longer allow myself to have such thoughts.
Our relationship is strictly business. Nothing else.
“Ready to go?” I ask, walking over.
Gordie’s face lights up when she sees me.
Cordelia has the opposite reaction. Those dark brows furrow in disquiet.
“Daddy, can we have ice cream?”
I narrow my eyes. “We need to go back to the garage and start your interviews.”
“But Cordelia has a boo-boo. You always get me ice cream when I have a boo-boo.”
I tilt my head, smelling a rat. The psychologist said that routines are as important as ever for Gordie, and I can’t stick to routines if she’s calling the shots on our schedule.
Gordie blinks innocently at me. “Please, Daddy.”
My resolve shakes like an earthquake.
Cordelia clears her throat. “I need to get back to work.”
Gordie spins to face her, evoking her lethal wide-eyes-and-pushed-out-lips combo. Knowing Cordelia’s discomfort with kids, I expect her to hold out.
She caves in half a second.
Big brown eyes flitting to me, Cordelia mumbles, “I mean…I could use some ice cream right now.”
Outnumbered, I drive the ladies to the ice cream shop. Gordie excitedly picks out her favorite flavor—strawberry—and I order a coffee flavor for myself. Cordelia goes for a cookies-and-cream, and we all head outside to eat near the children’s play area.
I’m once again locked out of conversation while Gordie and Cordelia chat about motorcycles. But I don’t mind, especially when I see how brightly Gordie smiles.
