Page 83 of Icebound

Cruz

HE’S ALIVEEEE!!!

Patty

*eye roll* I was FaceTiming my baby girl

Cruz

Funny. My face is about to be spending time in a girl

Rolling my eyes, I shut off my phone. There’s only one person I’m desperate to hear from, and it’s not Cruz, but I dug myself into this hole. It’s been over two weeks since I’ve seen Nina’s face or heard her voice, but she texts Cruz all the damn time.

They’re building a whole arsenal of inside jokes, and even though Cruz and I talked it out, I’m jealous of their friendship. He got me a burger, so we’re even. I’m not going to hold a grudge against the kid now that I know he’s not trying to sleep with her.

Nina’s stopped leaving me messages after my games, and every time my phone buzzes, I lurch for it, hoping to see her name on the screen.

I can’t stop thinking about the sex—the taste of her, the noises she made, the way her sexy body gripped my cock.

I should’ve known once wouldn’t be enough. I’m never listening to Patty again because getting over this girl might be impossible, but I’m trying to let her go so we can both chase our dreams.

I need to find someone my own age.

Grunting, I shove a piece of her cinnamon gum into my mouth that I stole.

“Is this seat taken?”

Looking up, I find a woman with black curls, wearing a green dress that matches her eyes. She’s holding a pair of heels in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other.

I scoot to the side. “It’s all yours.”

“Thanks, my feet are killing me.” She pulls out the barstool. I get a whiff of citrus, and it smells good, but it doesn’t come close to Nina’s cinnamon scent.

“I’ve been dancing all night,” she says. “I think my blisters have blisters. My brother just married his childhood best friend, Nathan. It’s all disgustingly sweet. They’re absolutely perfect together, and I’m feeling very single at the moment, so my plan is to drown myself in alcohol. Can I get you anything? Scotch? Whiskey?”

I hold up my piss beer. “I’m good. Thanks, though.”

Her eyes drop to my left hand, and she grins at my bare finger. Dammit. I know that look. “So, what brings you to Los Angeles?”

I check my phone, but there’s nothing from Nina. I don’t know why I thought there would be, so we make idle small talk for the next half hour.

She’s from San Francisco, and I keep it vague, telling her that I’m here for work. She’s a medical resident, which makes me think of Nina again, has two rescue pit bulls, only drinks wine from Chianti, and is a fan of the Bruins, but she didn’t recognize me. I’ll let that slide because they’ve got one hell of a roster.

She’s exactly my type. I bet I could have her up in my hotel room in the next ten minutes, but instead, I’m gulping my beer like that’ll drown my thoughts of a certain girl.

The conversation fizzles out when I scoot back from my stool. “Well, it was nice talking to you, but I better go.”

She frowns but gives me a good-natured salute with her Cosmo. “Nice chatting with you too.”

My phone vibrates on the counter. I glance at the screen. Nina.

Holy shit. She’s calling me.

I lurch for it like it’s the last life jacket on the Titanic, which I realize is not a great look. Holding the phone to my ear, I stride through the lingering perfume in the hotel lobby up to the elevators.

I take a breath before answering, so I don’t sound too eager. “Nina?”

“Hey, how’s it go—”