Page 10 of Icebound

The question catches me off guard. It probably, no, definitely, makes me a bit judgmental, but I expected a man who looks as tempting as him to care more about my condom plans than whether I made it home safe.

I wave a hand. “No, thanks, but I’m fine. I already texted my sister to come get me. Do you need a ride?”

The corners of his lips turn down. “Oh, uh, no. I already texted one of my buddies to pick me up.”

There’s a hushed pause, a beat where our stares linger. His eyes are a bright shade of cerulean blue, more vivid than the colors in Frida Kahlo’s paintings.

He cocks his head like he’s waiting for me to say something. “So, I guess this is goodbye?”

“Yeah, I guess—”

The sudden flare of headlights cuts through the crowded, cold night, veering around the corner. The blinding glare forces me to squint through my glasses until I spot the familiar red Jeep that’s taken me to countless pottery lessons and office hours.

The door swings open with a creak, but instead of my sister’s familiar face, a completely unwelcome set of dimples steps out into the dim streetlight.

I used to find that confident strut charming, but now it reminds me of a waddle. I dig my nails into my palms. If I have to hear him ask me one more time in that patronizing tone if I’m sure I’m okay with this, or if I’m hanging in there, I might self-combust.

Red flags wave in the back of my mind, but bad choices are my forte. Exhibit A is walking toward me in his sweatshirt that reads I might be N. Er. Dy. but only Periodically. I can still see the stain on the shoulder where I spilled my decaf coffee that I wish Tide had washed out.

A few onlookers watch as I race over to the plumber, gripping his insanely muscular forearm. This man must live at the gym. He jolts at the contact, but at least he doesn’t pull away. That’s a good start. “Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but are you married?”

“What?” His brows nearly fly off his forehead.

“Are you married?” I repeat. “Or in a civil union? Maybe a domestic partnership?”

“No, I’m not married or any of the above. Why?”

I narrow my eyes on the gray sprinkling his temples. He looks like he’s in his late twenties, maybe early thirties. I drop my gaze to his ring finger. It’s bare, which means he must microwave puppies or something equally horrific because no one looks like him and stays single unless they’re hiding some serious flaws.

“Are you dating anyone?”

He smirks. Of course, he smirks. “No. You interested?”

“In theory, yes…” I swallow. “Okay, here’s the thing. I need you to do me one tiny favor. I realize I have no right to ask you this, and you probably have a lot of toilets to fix, so you can absolutely say no, and I won’t be offended.”

“Alright, let’s hear it. What’s the favor?”

I draw in a lungful of air. “Can you please pretend like we were on a date, and I’m not your Lyft driver? Oh, and if you could act like you’re completely obsessed with me, that’d be even better.”

3

RHODE

Staring at the feisty five-foot-something tatted-out blonde in front of me, I’m struggling to make sense of what she’s asking.

For some reason, I thought she’d be this tiny little thing, but she’s taller than I thought. I like tall women, though, because it makes doggie style a hell of a lot easier on my knees, since I don’t have to bend as much.

I jerk my head, steering my thoughts away from sex positions when I’ve got this woman staring at me with her big, soulful eyes.

“You want me to pretend we’re on a date?”

She nods like my vintage Cujo bobblehead. “Yes, we can spread some condoms on the pavement or something to make it believable. Actually, never mind, a bird could choke. That’s a terrible idea.”

I like that she’s environmentally conscious, but I’m having a hard time keeping up with this whole conversation because I’m exhausted. I can’t believe I haven’t crashed on the sidewalk. The prospect of my spearmint bath is fading fast, which is a goddamn travesty.

“So, all I have to do is act like we’re on a date?” I repeat.

“Yes, I know I have nothing to offer you, but that’s my ex. It’s a long story, and we’re completely over, trust me, but I’d really appreciate it since he basically thinks he invented the female orgasm.”