Page 44 of Icebound

I blink to see if he disappears, but no, he’s still standing there with all those glorious muscles, a V on his hips that definitely leads to a naughty destination, and a dusting of silver speckled stubble across his thick pecs.

He’s got a hard body custom-made for dirty fantasies, and even though I run every morning, I can’t imagine the grueling workouts they go through daily to get that type of muscle definition.

He mutters a curse, lurching for a sweatshirt hanging on a rack and tugging it over his head. “Sorry. Thought it was the guys. I didn’t realize it was you.”

I watch him struggle to get it over his shoulders like he’s worried I’ll be offended by his nudity. “No need to put on a shirt for me. That six-pack is better than anything I’ve had to drink.”

He coughs, glancing away. “You shouldn’t be saying things like that to me, Nina. I’m too old for you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah, I am.”

He keeps shoving this age difference in my face like a red light, and all it does is make me want to prove him wrong. I’ve spent so much time letting people talk over me. Nina doesn’t want to go because she doesn’t like crowds. Nina would never do this. I want to speak my mind, be bold, and try my damn hardest not to let anxiety, or anyone, control me.

Rhode Tremblay, included.

With his body covered, he glares down at my soggy clothes like the fabric just told some offensive joke. “Why’re you wet?”

“Have you been outside yet?” I wring out my damp hair, trying to seem unaffected even though my heart’s sizzling. “We got that early heat wave, so it’s storming.”

His Caribbean eyes rake down my wet hoodie, lingering for three of my heartbeats before he yanks his gaze to the coat rack, swallowing. I want to believe his thoughts flicker to the kitchen, but his constant references to my age are enough to kill anything between us.

I doubt he’s still thinking about that moment even though it’s constantly popping up in my dirtiest dreams. He’s probably moved on with someone his age. My chest tightens.

“Why didn’t you drive here?” he says through clenched teeth.

“Because Gwen has the car today, so I walked here after my last class. It wasn’t raining then, but halfway here, it started pouring. Oh, and here, I brought your beanie.”

“Thanks.” He takes the hat. “I would’ve picked you up if you asked.”

“I’m not going to do that to you. You just got back from a week of away games, so I figured you’d be exhausted. It’s not a big deal. Can I please come in? I’m freezing, and I brought cat treats for Chicken since you said he hates people, and I want him to like me.”

A divot forms between his brows. “You remembered my cat’s name?”

“Yes. I listen to you.” Rhode’s blue eyes linger on my face, so I dangle the bag of treats. “Are you just going to stand there staring, or will you let me inside?”

He gives his head a hard shake, then moves so I can pass. “Sure, Patty and Cruz will be here soon. Sorry that he made you come to dinner tonight. You didn’t have to, but Cruz can be pushy.”

“I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t want to, Rhode.” His eyes seem to soften, melting the guardrails around my heart, so I quickly add, “And I liked Micah in high school. He was funny. He made Spanish class a lot more fun.”

He grunts. “Yeah, Cruz is a damn comedian.”

“Exactly. I used to tell him he needed to do stand-up or something.”

I try not to inhale his smoky scent as I stride into the industrial open floor plan. Rhode’s apartment is every bit the bachelor pad I imagined it would be—brick walls, wooden floors, leather couches.

I’m used to college guys with beer-stained couches and beds without headboards. Not men with curtains hanging on their windows. Standing here, I feel like a puzzle piece being forced into the wrong hole.

I spot a few empty wrappers of ¡Vamos! protein bars across the leather couch. The mess makes me feel a little less out of place but doesn’t completely squash my simmering nerves. I glance around the living room, searching for a distraction as I try not to let the anxiety consume me.

He’s got all his gear hanging on a rack like some hockey tree, but I can’t find a cat. “Where’s Chicken?”

Rhode shuts the door with a thud. “Probably off hiding somewhere on top of the cabinets. He hates thunderstorms because of the loud noises, so I’d steer clear. They scare the hell out of him.”

I drop the bag of treats on the marble counter. “Well, these are for him when he wants to come out of hiding.”

Rhode scoops up an empty Gatorade bottle and throws it in the recycling bin. “Sorry for the mess. I should’ve cleaned, but I was exhausted after being on the road, and my cleaning person’s on paternity leave.”