Page 97 of Ice Me Out

I smiled and tossed her onto my bed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Road Trip

Vera

“I thought you said we were going on a little road trip?”

Hart took his eyes off the road for a minute to glance at me. His gaze slid up and down, admiring the outfit he’d picked out for me. The man had taste; I’d give him that. My outfit was effortlessly chic: a black turtleneck, a chocolate leather skirt with a split, black tights, knee-high boots, and a black trench coat.

I toyed with the thin gold chain around my neck, avoiding his stare. Heat flushed below when he placed a hand on my leg, fingers creeping between my thighs. I crossed my leg, keeping his hand in place.

“We are going on a little road trip,” he replied, returning his attention to the road.

“You still haven’t told me where we are going.”

“And you won’t find out until we get there.”

“You’re annoying,” I groaned, peering out the window.

“That’s not the worst thing you’ve called me,” he said smugly.

I ducked down and narrowed my eyes at the clouds. “It’s gonna rain.”

“I checked the forecast. We should be good.”

“If you like it, I love it,” I whispered.

A grin threatened to reveal itself ten minutes later when the first droplets splashed against the windshield. I snuck a peek at him and felt a deep satisfaction when his ears reddened. Instead of being a brat and saying, “I told you so,” I took his hand in mine and gave it a tight squeeze. He huffed out a laugh and shook his head.

“I guess I should get the weather report from the biochemistry major instead of the weatherman from now on.”

I shrugged a shoulder. “It doesn’t hurt to check in.”

We rode in companionable silence as the rain grew from a sprinkle to a downpour. Hart slowed the Bronco as he navigated the winding roads, and I finally had a moment to think after learning my brother loathed Hart.

Oh, it’s bad. I fear I underreacted earlier to avoid worrying Hart. He should be worried.

Snoh was several things: cocky, arrogant, a show-off, an absolute beast on the slopes and pipes, but he wasn’t easy to rile up. To get Snoh to the point where he declared he hated someone took a lot of bullshit. Snoh had plenty of beef with his snowboarding cohorts—that was the name of the game in competition —but this was different. And eventually, I would have to break the news to Snoh that I was dating Hartford “Freak-off” Myers.

And no, I’m not delusional.

It would only be a matter of time before Hart broached the topic of dissolving our contract and becoming official. I’d put up the slightest resistance because I’m difficult and wouldn’t want to seem too eager, but ultimately, I’d say yes because letting a good man like Hart go was not an option.

My eyes widened, and my stomach heaved when I saw the sign. “Sweet Hart?”

“Hm?”

“Are we taking a ferry?”

“Yeah… is that a problem?”

I swallowed hard as my stomach churned as we neared the line of boarding vehicles.

“It’s no problem at all,” I lied, not wanting to tell him that there was a moderate to high chance that I would feed the fish and whales my everything bagel from breakfast.

The look he gave me confirmed he didn’t believe a word I said, but he didn’t comment and inched the Bronco forward. I gave myself a pep talk as Hart casually steered the truck up the ramp and my stomach unsettled a little more.

“You good?” he asked, glancing over as the tires hit the metal with a hollow clang.