Page 26 of Icebound

Yeah, he knows exactly what to do in a bedroom—and a yacht, apparently.

“Anything else?” he asks. “Be honest. I like that about you. Most people aren’t.”

The sour knot winds tighter in my stomach, almost like my insides are curdling from my lie. Except, after listing all of his accomplishments, I don’t want to admit I’m an art student. That’d only highlight our power imbalance.

I tug at the cuff of my denim jacket. “You drink beet smoothies before every game. Disgusting, but fine. You like to cross-stitch, which is surprising, but I like that. You have one younger sister, Rowyn, and you grew up in Seattle, but your mom’s from Vancouver. You weigh two-hundred-and-twenty-five pounds of pure muscle. Oh, and you have one of the highest paying contracts of any goalie in the League.” I shrug. “Just throwing it out there.”

“Damn, you weren’t joking about doing your research.” He laughs. “But just so you know, I didn’t grow up with money, so I send a lot back to my family, and for the record, any woman I marry has to sign a prenup.” He mimics my shrug. “Just throwing it out there.”

I playfully snap my fingers. “There goes my plan to seduce a hockey player, get him to fall in love with me, and then divorce him for all his money.”

He points over his shoulder. “Should I go ahead and leave now?”

Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on the marble counter. “That’s probably for the best.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Smiling, he copies my pose like we’re in a standoff. “But listen. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Yes, your totally normal proposition. What’s that?”

His eyes dart around, betraying a hint of nerves. “It’s clear you’ve done your research about me, so you’ve probably noticed I don’t have the best reputation online. That’s not who I am anymore, but it’s been tough getting sponsorships, and that’s where I could use your help.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

He sips his tea. “Remember the boy you gave the cold brew to?”

“Of course. Gabriel. He had the biggest brown eyes.”

That one lonely dimple pops on his cheek, but then something shifts in his expression. His warm smile blazes through me like I’m being burned alive.

“Yeah, him. Turns out, he’s the son of the CMO of ¡Vamos! Have you heard of them?”

“The protein bar company?” I ask. “Yeah, I love their tres leches flavor.”

“You should try the buñuelo ones too.” He takes another sip. “Their CMO, Andrea Peña, wants to invite us to one of their corporate events to thank us for helping her son. I could use the chance to talk to her about a sponsorship, and I was wondering if you’d come. Be my date. They’ll have dancing and free drinks. It’ll be fun.”

Small talk. New crowds. Open bar. That sounds like Satan crafted a seventh circle of hell custom-made for my anxiety. “I’m not really into parties. Could you take someone else?”

His face tightens in a subtle grimace. I narrow my eyes. “What?”

“I uh, might’ve already said you were going, and I hate going back on my word. Please?” he adds quickly. “It’s just one night, and it’ll help to have a gorgeous doctor on my arm. Show them I’m serious. I’ll owe you one. Anything.”

This man’s way too charming. That’s a red flag for heartbreak. “No. I can’t.”

His grin falls. “There’s got to be something I can offer you. I’ll do anything.”

Nothing’s worth making small talk for three hours, especially since he thinks I’m a doctor. Next time I lie about my career, I’m saying I’m a mortician, so no one asks questions. “I’m sorry, but no. Look, Rhode, I just don’t think this—”

A pounding cuts me off.

Rhode tilts his head. “What’s that?”

“I’m not sure.” I lift my ear to Gwen’s bedroom, and it sounds like she’s hammering something into the wall.

“That’s it, baby. Ugh, you’re so tight.”

A nauseating jolt surges through me at the sound of Isaac’s voice. I freeze, every muscle coiled tight as his sex noises seep from Gwen’s bedroom. She swore she wouldn’t do this here, but I should’ve known she’d shatter that promise.

“I take it you have a roommate?” Rhode says over the headboard banging.