Page 80 of Ice Darling
She unleashes an excited smile that makes her Bambi eyes crinkle to half their size, and my throat does this odd tightening thing. Rock music filters through the speakers. I turn it up even more, so it’s blasting. At least, this way, I won’t be able to hear my own wayward thoughts.
Last week, Gordie’s lunch box came back with all the steamed broccoli untouched. This week, I’ll substitute broccoli for carrot sticks and try to introduce another vegetable she may like.
Cordelia’s voice steals into my thoughts as she sings quietly to the music. It’s sweet the way she can’t hit the right key.
I’m seeing all kinds of sides to her tonight.
The cute side.
The flirty side.
The dress…
I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in a dress before, and I wasn’t expecting how stunning she’d be.
A soft touch on my shoulder makes me jump.
“Viking, do you mind if I wind the windows down? The air conditioner feels stuffy.”
I freeze.Viking.
Did she just call me by my first name?
Why?
Is she trying to kill me?
Cordelia flaps those long lashes at me, waiting.
I nod.
She hits the button next to her elbow. The window disappears, and wind rushes into the car, sending her hair flapping all over her face. She doesn’t seem to mind. Of course, she wouldn’t. The woman’s main transportation is a motorcycle that’s taller than she is.
How much longer until we get to the restaurant?
I check my navigation and then push the gas pedal a little more to increase my speed.
A phone chirps.
Cordelia lowers the music to a whisper and answers, “Brennon, hey.”
My fingers tighten on the steering wheel. Cordelia is usually polite and distant with everyone. However, there’s a note of closeness in her voice when she says that guy’s name.
And I don’t like it.
“Yeah, no problem. We’re”—Cordelia checks my navigation—“about fifteen minutes away. Yeah. Okay. I’ll do that.”
“What’d he want?” I ask gruffly.
“He got tied up at the office, so he’ll be late. He said he put the reservation under his name and that we can order as soon as we get there. We don’t have to wait for him.”
Absolutely not. Brennon doesn’t tell me when I can and cannot order food.
“Since he’s not ready, we can take a detour,” I suggest.
Her eyebrows cinch. She’s got something shiny on her eyelids, and it makes her brown eyes look even more alluring. “We’re so close to the restaurant.”
“He’s not even there,” I point out.
