Page 96 of Icebound

Snuggling closer to him on the Adirondack chair, I watch him squint at the woman through the bright sunlight, noting each minor shift in his expression. Everyone at Wyatt’s barbecue—or is it Patty? I never know what to call him—looks like a model.

His head tilts. “She doesn’t have blonde hair.”

“What, you only date blondes? Since when?”

He flips his cap backward, giving me a flat look. “Nina.”

“What?” I zone in on the backward hat. “Okay, you’re always a twelve out of ten solely based on your personality, but with the hat turned around? I want to drag you to the nearest bedroom.”

“You’re really over-inflating my ego right now. Keep talking.” He smirks, somehow managing to look both innocent and arrogant at the same time.

I stroke his stubble. “So, is that a yes to the bedroom? Because it’s been two weeks since we’ve had sex, and my dirty fantasies are not doing it for me anymore. You’re gone all the time. I’m tired of staring at you on a screen.”

He releases a tortured groan. “I want to hear about these fantasies later, but you’re going to make me hard at a one-year-old’s birthday party, and then I’m going to get arrested because that’s creepy as fuck. I’m barely keeping it together with your big fine ass on my lap.”

I wiggle my big fine ass right over his hardening dick. “Oh, but it’d be so fun.”

He kisses the crook of my neck. “I’ll fuck you nice and good later, pretty girl, but not here. Let’s go home so you can scream my name as loud as you want.”

I mock gasp. “My neighbors are ninety. We’ll traumatize them.”

“Ninety-year-olds can still get up to some kinky shit. I plan to.”

“Fine. I’ll be extra loud for the kinky ninety-year-olds.”

“That’s my girl.”

I blink, mentally replaying the words. He’s never called me his girl before, and it feels like someone set a thousand fireflies loose in my stomach, which is not ideal, considering I finally booked my flight to Argentina.

He continues twirling my hair, which is a nice distraction from the anxiety thrumming under my skin like an electrical current. The six-mile run I went on this morning didn’t help, unfortunately. I’ve already chewed through an entire box of cinnamon gum.

Ever since I stepped into Wyatt’s quintessential country home for Betty’s birthday party—complete with cows, a private lake, and an outdoor pool area—I’ve been coiled tight at the thought of making small talk for hours with strangers.

My sleepless spiral last night didn’t help.

I thought about canceling at least fifty times, but this was my only option if I wanted to see Rhode since he’s leaving for another week of games, and things will only get busier if they make it to the playoffs.

All my worst qualities are coming out of hiding because of it—self-consciousness, jealousy, racing thoughts, overanalyzing every woman eyeing Rhode.

They’re all staring at him.

I’m second-guessing each word that comes out of my mouth, and I’m still cringing about the cow joke I made earlier to some random person. I’m going to be thinking about that for the next ten years.

I scan the backyard party, nodding to a blonde in leggings and a high ponytail who looks like she pronounces croissant with a French accent. “What about dating someone like her after I leave? She looks like she could chase kids around all day and then go rule over a boardroom.”

Rhode turns, frowns, and directs his attention back to me. “She doesn’t have a nose piercing.”

“How can you tell from this far away? Okay…” I scan the sleek infinity pool, my attention settling on a woman blowing bubbles in a floral sundress. “What about her? She looks nice.”

“Stop, Nina.” He hooks a finger under my chin and coaxes my head up with his knuckle. “I’m not doing this with you. She doesn’t have a star tattoo on her right shoulder, or a Texas-shaped birthmark, or gold glasses, or freckles I can’t stop staring at, alright? Stop asking me about other women I could date when I’ve got you in my arms. You’re the only one I’m thinking about.”

I try not to let those words sink into my heart, but it’s hard when he’s the only man on my mind.

I brush my nose against his, lips tingling, aching to touch his mouth. “You’re right. No more talking about other people. Let’s talk about something else. Does all this make you excited to have a family one day?”

He scowls at the two-year-old with tears streaming down his face. The little one’s wails pierce the air as he stomps his tiny feet against the ground. His mother deserves a medal for watching in patient silence.

His nose crinkles. “You know. I might’ve underestimated how hard parenting actually is. I always imagined the perfect family, but I think you need the right teammate.”