Ice Darling

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Cordelia

I need a fake boyfriend, and I need him now.

Not next week. Not next year.

Now.

And as Mom’s heels click closer and the room starts shrinking, I snap my eyes around to find the perfect cover.

There.

A bulging bicep is right next to me.

My fingers close around those golden muscles before I get a good look at the face attached to them.

And I instantly regret it.

Viking Renthrow is not fake-boyfriend material.

I’m not saying that because he’s six foot four with a five-o’clock shadow and a Hello Kitty gym bag—which is…a choice.

And it’s also not because he’s holding a small, accident-prone, miniature human being who calls him “Daddy”—which is a matter all on its own.

It’s because, the moment I wrap my fingers around his brawny arm in a tornado of utter panic and stupidity, his reaction is to yank his arm away.

And he couldn’t be nice enough to leave it at that.

No.

Viking Renthrow pairs the quick, firm rejection of my hand on his body with a wide-eyed look that screams how utterly bizarre he thinks I am.

Now I’m panicking.

I grabbed the arm of the wrong Lucky Strikers team member, and unfortunately, I’m already committed.

Mom’s eyes dart between me and the giant hockey player, waiting for me to explain myself.

“Delia, were you about to introduce your…?” Mom prompts gleefully. She floats toward me in red-bottomed heels, hair perfectly pressed, outfit as loud as it is expensive, looking woefully out of place in the small town of Lucky Falls.

“N-no one.” My voice stutters out like a car with a broken starter.

Everyone in the lobby has gone silent as they try to piece together what on earth is going on.

I can’t blame them.

Honestly, I’m trying to figure it all out myself.

Mom is here.

In Lucky Falls.

Though it’s not a surprise she found me. Actually, I’m surprised it took her this long. The question is…why did she come here personally instead of sending someone to pick me up?

“Daddy,” Renthrow’s little girl coos, breaking up the tension that everyone can feel but only Mom and I know the backstory for, “I want to ride motorcycles like the cool lady.”

I appreciate the vote of confidence from Gordie. The fact that she’s interested in bikes shows she has impeccable taste for a six-year-old. Enough that I may find her slightly less intimidating than other miniature humans.

But Mom is in front of me now, and I have no idea what to say to her. My heart is pounding loud enough to be heard over the roar of an exposed muffler. All the feelings I’d tucked deep inside when I ran away to Lucky Falls are about to come gushing out.

“Let’s go home,” Renthrow says gently to his daughter.

Home? As in away from my one-woman plot to throw Mom off my scent by having a fake boyfriend in town?

My fight-or-flight instincts kick in.

My dignity flies out.

I send Renthrow a quick, desperate look, complete with wrinkled eyebrows, sucked-in lips, and eyes begging for assistance.

He pauses and gives me a once-over.

I hold my breath, waiting. Counting the seconds.

Coldly, he turns away and walks out.

My heart sinks to the bottom of my toes, falls into the void of my stomach, and is swept away by a raging wave of annoyance.

“Bye, cool lady!” Gordie waves over her father’s mountain-like shoulders.

The annoyance putters out a bit.

I give her a weak wave in return.

Mom’s eyes dart to Renthrow’s retreating back, Gordie’s bobbing head, and then to me. “Am I reading this right?” She smirks. “Was that your boy—”

“You’re Cordelia’s mom? How nice to meet you!” Rebel, my boss and one half of the two-women force that runs The Pink Garage, steps in.

Bless her.

I make a mental note to buy Rebel a special pink toolbox that’ll have her raving for weeks. She’s a lifesaver.

Who needs a man anyway? Girl power for the win.

Sufficiently distracted, Mom shakes my boss’s hand. “You must be Rebel Hart. Please, call me Sasha.”

Rebel throws on a Miss Small Town USA, mega-watt smile. “Sasha, welcome to Lucky Falls. Delia didn’t tell us you were coming.”

Mom blinks, giving Rebel’s high cheekbones, willowy limbs, and bright blue eyes a professional skim. Born to an illustrious banker and a former international pageant runner-up, Mom’s been in pageantry circles her entire life. She knows glitz and glamor the way Lucky Falls knows hockey.

I bet she’s already tucking away a few business cards to hand over to Rebel if she’s ever interested in becoming a competitor for international beauty pageants.

Turning slightly around, Mom coos, “And you must be the other brilliant mechanic… April, right?” Mom extends a hand to the pretty woman beside Chance McLanely.

“It’s nice to meet you,” April says, taking Mom’s hand and giving me a questioning look all in the same breath.

Mom gestures to my bosses. “I’ve heard so much about you two—”

I snort. The information Mom has certainly didn’t come from me.

Mom arches a brow in my direction but continues chatting breezily. “It’s wonderful to meet everyone. Now that Max and I have signed the contract and made things official, how about I treat you all to dinner to celebrate your win tonight?”

“Great idea,” Max says in excitement. “But I’ll pay.”

“I knew I liked you,” Mom says, grinning at him.

“Who’s game?” Max calls to his players.

“I’m in!”

“I’m gonna burn your wallet up, Boss!”

One by one, the teammates agree.

“April? Rebel?” Mom makes a sweeping gesture.

The women hesitate and look subtly at their boyfriends—who happen to be the captain and vice captain of the Lucky Strikers.

I clear my throat, smoothing things over in ways I wouldn’t normally do. “Mom,” I try awkwardly, “some people might already have plans.”

“Oh!” Mom’s eyes widen as if the thought had never occurred to her. “Of course. Of course. We can all convene another time if you’d prefer.”

Gunner Kinsey and Chance McLanely are ridiculously obvious in their relief. They tug eagerly on April and Rebel’s hands, trying to separate them from the group. But my bosses don’t go so easily.

“Are you okay?” April asks, hovering over me with a concerned look.

“Yeah,” I croak. “Peachy.”

If the peach were poisoned and one bite would send me into a deep and dreamless eternal sleep.

Rebel looks me over. “You were about to tell your mom that you and Renthrow were dating, weren’t you?”

I flinch. “Was it that obvious?”

“Only to people with experience.”

I have no idea what that means, but she and April exchange meaningful looks, and I figure there’s a story somewhere in their past that I’d probably be interested in…if I wasn’t too busy trying to survive my mother’s sudden appearance in town.

“Delia? This way,” Mom sings as she gestures to the exits.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Rebel says quietly, “but you can come with us. I’ll tell your mom that we have an emergency at the garage.”

I’ve never met women as classy and kind as these two. Truly.

“I’ll be fine,” I mutter to my bosses, trying to do what I’ve struggled to do since my first day in Lucky Falls—keep them at arm’s length.

Rebel and April take my word for it and join their boyfriends. I tag along with the bigger group.

“I didn’t know you had a daughter in Lucky Falls, Sasha,” Max, the manager of the Lucky Strikers, tells Mom as he escorts her through the parking lot.

Max is the size of a massive lumberjack with arms better suited to tearing trees in half with his bare hands. It amazes me that he spends most of his time behind a desk managing the team rather than on the ice swinging pucks into a net.

Max smiles politely. “Is that why you were interested in sponsoring our team?”

“Among many reasons,” Mom says, ever the strategic conversationalist. She points to her car. “Delia, ride with me, dear.”

Mills, Mom’s personal assistant and driver, gives me a warm wave as I near the town car.

Seeing Mills makes the emotions in my chest stir up even further. It feels like a thousand little knives all taking aim at a spot right under my ribs.

I blow out a quick breath and whirl away from Mom.

“I rode here,” I croak out, hoping to hide the tremble in my voice.

“You can leave that death machine alone for one night, Cordelia. Small towns are notoriously peaceful. No one’s going to take it. Heck”—Mom rolls her eyes—“even thieves know they’d be ten times safer by not touching it.”

My bottom lip warbles.

My nostrils flare.

I can’t ride with Mom. No way.

Determined, I head to my bike.

“Delia, be careful on that thing and meet us at the… Max, where do you recommend we go for dinner?”

“The Tipsy Tuna is a town favorite, ma’am.”

“What a delightful name. Cordelia, meet us at The Tipsy Tuna!”

“Yeah!” I yell back. Stuffing my helmet over my head, I swing onto my bike while tapping the back of my heel against the kickstand. The engine rumbles, and the sound is so low and guttural that it chases back the tears that are springing, unwelcome, to my eyes.

Just keep it in, Delia. You’re stronger than this. Don’t fall apart now.

I lean forward, gripping the throttle and speeding off with a roar. The wind batters my jacket, and I’m glad, for the millionth time, that I cut my hair so I don’t have long, black strands flying into my visor.

As I ride, I briefly consider ditching dinner, but I’m aware that not showing up tonight is basically offering Mom a VIP invite to my apartment. She’ll faint when she sees that I don’t have a fully functioning kitchen or air conditioning, and she’ll probably drag me back home.

Or worse…ask me why I left home in the first place.

Pulling back on the throttle, I veer my bike left and ride to the restaurant. The parking lot is packed with cars, and I swing off the bike, tuck my helmet in the storage case beneath my seat, and take the stairs.

The roar of music and laughter punches me in the face as I open the door. The powerful aroma of burgers and fries teases my nose.

My stomach revolts.

I really don’t want to be here.

Should I just grab my things from the apartment and make a run for it? Leave April and Rebel a sticky note thanking them for everything? Find another small town with another garage I can work in?

Before I can move on the thought, Mom’s voice cuts through the din. “Cordelia! Over here!”

Ugh. Too late.

I’ve been spotted.

I take a step toward the crowded table, and a familiar pair of eyes slams into mine.

My heart ricochets against my ribs, kicking up a storm of emotions. One emotion, in particular, is stronger than the rest.

I’ve only felt this icky once in my life after a confession gone wrong, and I swore I’d never put myself in a position to feel this way again.

Yet, here I am.

And here he is.

Viking Renthrow.

Not at home with his daughter as he said he’d be after rejecting me.

But here.

Beside my mother.

Fingers curling into fists, I yank my leather gloves off with one hand and pointedly look away from him as I approach the table.

Whatever. It’s not like I wanted to be with him for real. I’m not interested in a man as rough and tumble as Viking Renthrow. And as cute as Gordie is—I’m not interested in being a stepmom either.

Love, a family, kids—none of that is in my future.

I don’t want it.

Not after all I’ve lost.