Page 105 of Ice Devil

There I went again thinking crazy thoughts and why? Because being around Beck made me crazy. Not always in an enticing manner either. As I was drawn deeper into the woods, I realized it was entirely possible I got lost. No, there was an obvious pathway, twigs and fallen leaves crushed under heavy feet.

The location was beautiful, the foliage lush and so green. There were even a few wildflowers dotting the landscape. Being outside was very peaceful.

Thankfully, the sound grew louder, but I also heard another noise. Running water. Before I pushed my way through a clump of trees, I sensed Beck, the crackle of electricity humming across my skin undeniable. I made out his silhouette. He was sitting on a grassy knoll by a riverbank.

With a guitar in his hand.

I remained where I was, enjoying doing nothing more than watching him. He strummed a few additional bars before stopping.

“You can come out now, Sloane. I know you’re there.”

“How did you know?” I pushed my way through, moving closer yet keeping some sense of distance. Maybe the truth was that the man just made me nervous. Stranger things had occurred in my life.

He laughed. “You scared off all the wildlife with your heavy feet.” To add insult to injury, he peered down at the boots. “Now you’re a thief.”

“Please. I didn’t think sandals were the best choice.”

“What happened to your tennis shoes?” The man was smirking with his question.

“Are we really going to keep arguing? Seriously?” I tried to ignore his rude comment, keeping my gaze on the stunning, perfectly clear river tumbling over rocks, but being around him, the simple task was very hard. While no matter where my gaze landed, there was something incredible to appreciate, already I couldn’t concentrate.

“This isn’t arguing, Sloane. Trust me.”

I turned to face him, more frustrated than during any conversation we’d had up to this point. “Are you going to keep doing that? Really? You are infuriating as fuck.”

You bet he intended on annoying me any way he could. I had to remind myself I was intending on doing the same. He continued strumming the guitar while studying me. In turn, I paid more attention to the way his fingers were moving across the frets and strings with such ease, I had a sense he’d been playing for a very long time.

Whether he wanted me here or not, I sat down on the ground beside him, uncertain what if anything to say any longer.

“That’s beautiful, Beck.”

“You mean for a guy who can’t carry a tune?”

“You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Carry a chip on your shoulder. You know when I first met you, I didn’t think you had one. Sure, you were labeled a man-whore and a guy who didn’t have a serious bone in his body, but that’s entirely different.”

“Man-whore?”

“Oh, come on. You know that’s what certain people call you on the internet. At least the puck bunnies adore you.”

He switched songs, the selection just as charming, perhaps even seductive with a haunting quality that almost made me sad.

“I don’t care about the internet or the puck bunnies.”

“Oh, really,” I tossed back. “You could have fooled me since I was forced to come to you.”

I’d just given him an opening to a line so huge and I knew the moment when it ran through that big brain of his.

“Don’t you dare say it!” I pointed my finger at him.

“Oh, I get the finger now. With a chipped nail to boot.”

The man had a way of disarming me that would forever drive me to the point of doing heinous acts. I glanced at my hand, noticing two nails were broken and with the others being chipped, it appeared as if I’d been in a scrappy fight.

I had. With a tree.