Page 57 of Icebound

“I’m fine.” I suck in a thick breath of perfumed air. “Just… don’t leave me alone, please? Crowds are a little overwhelming for me.”

He presses the softest kiss to my temple, and if he hadn’t been adamant about this night meaning nothing, I’d think that meant something. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s you and me tonight.”

Some guy in a tux with slicked back hair struts up to us. His gaze roams over my dress, and he whispers something in Rhode’s ear. His jaw hardens in an instant, and he gives the guy a menacing scowl before leading me away.

I clutch my champagne stem. “You look pissed. What’d he say to you?”

“Nothing,” Rhode grits out, and he seems to force his jaw to visibly relax. “It doesn’t matter.”

Curiosity fizzes through me, but I don’t have much time to contemplate that interaction as more people crowd us. For the next thirty minutes, Rhode never once looks my way again, but his hands don’t leave my waist.

My heart rate throbs behind my ribcage. Rhode’s fingers tighten in the silk on my lower back, tethering me to reality. Even when a pretty redhead saunters up to him, he keeps his firm hand around me, but his eyes on her.

I try not to let that bother me, except it does.

As he makes polite small talk, I get sucked into my own little world, trying to calm the frantic pounding in my chest through futile breathing techniques.

Anytime we drift to a nearby faux fern, I stealthily dump the champagne in the soil, but it's like the waiter's got a radar for empty glasses. He keeps handing me refills. At this rate, that fern’s getting wasted tonight.

“Nina.” Rhode's deep voice punctures my mental cloud, pulling me back to the present.

He gestures toward a woman in a red silk dress that looks tailor-made for boardrooms. “This is Andrea Peña, the CMO of ¡Vamos! energy bars. I was just telling everyone they’re releasing a new Oaxacan Cocoa flavor in the fall.”

“I see you’ve done your research.” Andrea grins broadly. “But yes, it’ll be right in time for Día de los Muertos, but I can't thank you enough for what you did for my son. We're so relieved everything turned out okay, and I wanted to express my sincere apologies for your car.”

I grasp her hand, trying to push past the knot of pressure in my chest to find my voice. “It was the least I could do. I'm just glad Gabriel’s okay. It’s so nice to meet you.”

Rhode's gaze finds mine, and he pulls me closer into his warmth. “Nina was the real hero of the night.”

Andrea nods. “Absolutely. If there’s anything I can do to extend my gratitude, you let me know.”

They dive into a discussion about sponsorships while I count the exits. One. Two. Three. Four. I thought there were five.

“Let’s talk about you, Tremblay,” Andrea says. “With all those whispers about retirement, I wasn't sure you'd still be interested in sponsorships. You know, we do take on retired players.”

It’s an innocent comment, but Rhode tenses, every line of his body drawing tight. His easy confidence seems to waver momentarily like he’s at a loss for words.

It’s something I’m familiar with, so I interlace my fingers through his, noticing his palm’s a little sweaty like mine. Rhode jolts, looking down at where our hands are intertwined.

“Rhode can’t retire,” I say, drawing Andrea’s attention off him. “The Guardians wouldn’t survive. Did you not see him in last week’s game? He saved thirty-four of thirty-five shots, so he’s got a zero-point-nine-seven save percentage, and in the third, did you see when he stopped that point-blank one-timer? I thought that was going in the net for sure, and—” I stop when I realize Rhode’s staring at me with an open mouth.

“What?” I say.

His brows climb toward the chandeliers. “I thought you didn’t like hockey?”

“I don’t. I just do my research.”

“Uh-huh.” He salutes me with his full champagne glass. I guess he’s not drinking either. “Clearly.”

We stare at each other for another second, but Andrea booms out a laugh, shattering our reverie. “Looks like I better study up, and what do you do, Nina?”

I wave a hand. “Oh, I’m just in art school.”

A crease forms between Rhode’s brows. “Nina’s not just in art school. She’s doing a pottery fellowship in Argentina after she graduates. They only accept five percent of the applicants, so it’s one of the most competitive fellowships in the world.”

Something molten floods my body, heating me up and ruining me all at once. “How’d you know that?”

Rhode flashes that lethal dimple. “You’re not the only one who does their research.”