7. Gorgeous but a psychopath, nonetheless
7
Gorgeous but a psychopath, nonetheless
Exton
What a waste of fucking time! I slam the door to my G-wagon, letting my head drop to the headrest as I rub my eyes. Now what?
If being a glorified babysitter to a whiny little star was my only way back to the ice and now I’m no longer needed for that…then now what? Screw this shit, they can’t do this to me. And even if she would still need me, I’d leave. I’m not just a nobody they can push around. I’m Exton motherfucking Quinn!
And Electra Monroe is fucking nuts! A psychopath.
A gorgeous one, though, with eyes so light blue they might as well be like ice. Empty like it too. The emptiest I've ever seen. Her long hair so dark it’s almost black.
Fucking hell. And those low-cut bangs framed her sharp yet delicate face features. They kept getting into her eyes and my fingers just itches to brush it away.
She was also tiny. Even in that chair, I could tell she’d at most come up to my chest, but hell, if her body didn’t pack a punch. She’s too skinny, clearly having lost weight since her injury but the curves I could see were all too promising.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous but a psychopath, nonetheless, and to my utter horror, my dick still can’t calm down from our encounter.
Fucker…having books thrown at me, my liver poked with a spatula and that sweet mouth mouthing off like I was the enemy didn’t do anything to deter him from wanting that angry elf.
The second she opened the door, I was hit with that intrusive thought and it close-circuited my brain, kicking it into an asshole gear.
Granted, that’s my usual gear, but I wasn’t actually planning on being one to her.
Hell, I didn’t ask for this now, did I?
I didn’t ask for any of the shit in my life.
I need a drink.
Yes, at one PM.
Peeling out of her reclusive driveway—because of course she lives on the outskirts of an already small town—I head for Main Street which seemed to be the only street in Iris Lake that had any sort of life happening on it.
I’m a Boston baby, from birth till now, and we sure do travel a lot with the team during the season, but I’ve never been to a town like this one. Small, beat up, and very old—ancient really—but somehow it holds one of the best training facilities for figure skaters across the country, led by none other than Stella-the-Terminator Gray herself.
Yes, that’s my official name for that witch.
Although, the facility is a good half an hour drive from here, so I guess it doesn’t really count. And fine, the town is actually quite charming. I’m just too angry to notice any of it.
Fifteen minutes later, I am still fuming from my encounter with that falling star when I push open the doors to Blade’s Pub. It’s small and old just like the rest of the Iris Lake, but unlike the rest of the town, that old feel is used to its advantage here.
It’s polished over with the reclaimed wood accents, fancy-yet-old-school juke box and stained concrete floors. The tables are a mix of sturdy wooden high tops and regular seater metal ones. And the bar, where I am headed to, is stocked to the brim with any liquor your heart can desire.
Seeing as it’s only one PM, I didn’t expect it to be as full as it is, but I take it as a good sign that I won’t be poisoned here. Throwing myself into one of the chairs, I signal the bartender.
“Hey, your first time here?” a stocky guy with a buzz cut, who’s maybe a couple of years younger than me, asks me.
“That obvious?”
“Nah.” He chuckles, “I just know all the regulars, and you’re not one of them.”
“Yeah, my first and hopefully last time here,” I grumble.
“Ouch.” He winces, but it’s good naturedly. “Iris Lake not to your liking? To be fair, you came in the off season. Usually, the tourists flood us in the summer through Christmas time.”
“You actually have tourists come here?” I ask, dumbfounded that anyone would want to spend their vacation here. He must see it all on my face because he laughs.
“You’d be surprised. But like I said, you’re here in the off season, so the town is in this sort of hibernation right now.”
Aren’t we all…
“So, you want a menu?”
“Sure.” He hands me one and I look over their rather impressive list.
“Not what you expected, huh?”
“Not at all, smug Joe,” I tell him, and he chuckles again.
“Liam.” He extends his arm across the bar, and I shake it.
“Exton.”
The second my name leaves my mouth, his eyes narrow on me. Three, two, one…
“Bloody hell, you are the Exton Quinn??? What are you doing in Iris Lake? Don’t you guys have a game, well, tonight?” He widens his eyes.
That they do…but not me. I’m stuck on babysitting duty that is no longer needed.
Just where the fuck am I needed?
“I am he; he is me and I was benched after the last game. So, nope, no game for me.”
“Man, that sucks. They shouldn’t have done that! You are the best across all defense lines.” Liam shakes his head.
“You’re a fan I take it?”
He snorts. “Stella Gray is a fan, so you’ll find the whole Iris Lake to be fans. So, if you came here to fly under the radar, you picked the wrong small town in the whole country.” He chuckles.
Stella Gray is a fan, huh? I guess Coach still got it.
“Nah, not concerned with that.” In fact, I drag my eyes across the room and spot a few curious and flirtatious ones already set on me. Well, look at that, Iris Lake already has its appeal.
I order some beef wings and fries recommended by Liam and a beer, and by the time they come, the attendance in the bar has doubled. “Told ya, the news traveled at lightning speed this time,” Liam says, sliding the basket of house seasoned fries my way.
I take a bite and all but moan. Jesus, what do they put in this food here? It’s the best damn fries I’ve ever tasted. Not to mention I’ve never had beef wings before, and it might be one of my top favorite meals of all time.
“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” I tell him when just then another local came by for an autograph. Come to think of it, I don’t remember the last time I signed so many things at once. It’s quite nice to feel like I did something right for once in my damn life.
Liam serves another customer and comes back to me. “This town’s had way too much excitement for one week. First, a national champion returns to her hometown and now an NHL star is here too.”
At the mention of the national champion, two things happen at once. First, my jaw clenches a bit too hard and my side aches where the said champion poked me. But the second, and more troubling thing is that I’m all ears. I want Liam to keep talking so I know more about this ice queen.
And that is something that definitely should not be happening. I shouldn’t give a rat’s ass about that pissed off elf who threatened me with bodily harm. But fuck, if I know why there’s a burning sensation my sternum ever since I walked out her door. Or why an unwelcome image of those beautiful icy blue eyes pops in my head.
They say eyes are windows to one’s soul, so why did hers look so fucking empty?
Not my problem , I remind myself and take another bite of my food.
“Mmm, Electra, right?” I play dumb.
“Yeah.” He nods solemnly. “I went to school with her, you know, and that girl just doesn’t deserve the shit that the universe keeps throwing at her.” He shakes his head.
“That fall, it should’ve never been,” a new voice rumbles from the side, and I turn my head to see an older man, weathered in age also giving his head a shake.
“What do you mean?” I ask, because once again, I can’t seem to help myself.
In all honesty, I should have done more research about my charge-to-never-be, but I simply didn’t care. All I wanted was to get in, make her stand, and leave as fast as I could. But that plan was shot to hell the moment she opened her door.
And then shot again the moment she opened her mouth.
“I have it from trusted sources that that bastard partner of hers talked her into doing a trick they weren’t supposed to right before the dance. Can you guess what trick that was and what was the outcome of it?” He raises one weathered eyebrow at me and for some unfathomable reason, a fire lights up in my gut. “I never liked that guy. The only time he came to Iris Lake with her, it was clear he was the wrong one for our Electra.”
I want to ask more questions but at that same moment a new body slides up next to mine. A sexy body. And my face stretched into a flirtatious grin when I see the girl who’s been eye-fucking me for the past thirty minutes standing there.
Only now, the thick cardigan she was wearing is gone and all I see are tits spilling out of a thin tank top.
“Hey,” she says sweetly, biting her bottom lip.
The fire that was simmering inside of me turns into a whole other one as I let my eyes roam over the willing body in front of me.
That’s not why I came to this town, but my job here seems to be done. I don’t actually need to know the details of Electra’s life. I shouldn’t even care. I tried to help her—or did my best—and she told me to fuck off.
If she wants to spend the rest of her life in that chair, then by all means…it doesn’t matter to me. It. Doesn’t. So, I can have this evening to myself, and tomorrow I’ll head back and deal with Coach, team, and the rest of the fuckers who want to take me down. Or I'll disappear. That sounds like a good option right now as well.
“Hey yourself.” I smile back, and we fall into a comfortable, flirty conversation that undoubtedly will lead me to her bed, when my back snaps up.
“What are you doing here, my prickly pear?” Okay, a grown, six-foot-five man should not get a chill over his spine at the sound of one small woman’s voice. Yet I do. Because that’s no woman, that’s a witch and by the sound of it, she’s out for my blood.
I clear my suddenly parched throat at the same time as my irritation grows. “I am having a pleasant conversation at the bar. What are you doing here?”
“Apparently, being the fun police,” she shoots back, and I assume glares at Stacy who is slowly shrinking away from me, and I sigh.
Great.
“Look.” I turn to face her. “I’ve done what you asked. I went over there, met her, tried to help her but A”—I lift one finger—“she doesn’t want my help, and B”—I lift the second one—“she doesn’t need it.”
“I will buy the first one but what makes you think she doesn’t need it? How do you imagine a person in a wheelchair getting around and doing everything she needs to do—including her physical therapy—alone? Was I not clear back in Hill’s office?”
“Oh, you were.” I grit my teeth, remembering her ultimatum that in order for me to step a foot on the ice again, I’ll have to make her precious Electra stand and skate first. “But she’s paralyzed! How the hell am I supposed to fix that? When I agreed to it, I thought we were talking about a broken bone or some shit like that.”
“Listen to me, prickly pear.” She grabs a fistful of my shirt and drags me closer until my nose is practically touching hers. “She can and will walk, and I don’t give a fuck how you manage to do it. Play hockey with her for all I care, but she needs to walk!”
“Why don’t you ask her boyfriend to do that? Since he’s there with her, anyway? Why drag me here?”
Suddenly, I’m very aware of every set of eyes in Blade’s on us. And the pin dropping silence that follows my words.
“Her boyfriend?” Stella utters slowly. Those narrowed eyes turning into downright slits.
“Yeah?”
“And you’ve seen him there?”
“I mean…no? She told me he was coming and that I was off the hook.” If a gaze could send fire, I’d be a roasted pig by now.
“My friend, you have been duped.” The same old guy huffs out an empty laugh, and my eyebrows furrow at him. What’s that supposed to mean?
“You mean to tell me that she’s been alone for God knows how many hours already and you were going to leave her all alone for the night or until whatever time I decided to check in on her based on what she told you?” Stella’s teeth are clenched hard and tight as she hisses out each word.
I open my mouth to say something, but she stops me. “There is no boyfriend, you idiot! Unless you count the one who did this to her and then left her alone in the hospital bed.”
I want to tell her to fuck off, that it’s none of my business, and that her idea of me helping Electra was shit from the start but then Stella steps in closer, so only I can hear the words that send a slash of cold ice over my bones.
“She cannot be left alone. Do you understand me?” Her eyes drill into mine and suddenly that empty look in those electric blue eyes I saw earlier, makes sense.
Fuck.
In a haste, I pull out a hundred out of my pocket, smacking it on the bar top and run out, tripping over my bar stool as I do so, but I don’t care. I don’t have the time to care.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
She didn’t even lock the front door , I think to myself as I burst through it as if my ass was on fire, only to stop dead in my tracks, gaping at the scene in front of me.
“Sure, come in, make yourself at home once again.” Those blue eyes have the audacity to roll at me, but her sarcastic tone lacks the sass from the earlier.
“What the fuck?” I lunge for her sprawled body next to the wall, lifting the wheelchair that’s pinning her legs in a twisted way. “Why are you on the floor?” I demand and a flash of irritation passes through her.
“Oh, you know, just wanted to rest a bit,” she says defiantly, and it hits me that she obviously fell and wouldn’t be able to get up by herself.
Jesus Christ, how long has she been down here like this?
“Why didn’t you call someone to come help you?” I grit out, sliding my arms underneath her body to lift her but she slaps my hands away. Because of course, she does.
“I don’t need anyone’s help.” That stubborn streak, loud and clear in her voice, but there’s also something else there.
“A delusional psychopath, great,” I mumble to myself and slide my arms underneath her anyway, despite her claws digging into my arms as I do. “Stop. Fighting. Me.” I squeeze her tightly to my body, translating the words with my eyes as much as with my mouth and she does, indeed, stops moving.
We both stop.
Her curves molding into mine as her somewhat antiseptic—the one you smell when you are in the hospital—scent penetrates my lungs and for a second, it’s hard to move, even if I’d want to, because for some unfathomable reason, I have a hard-on.
I’m not immune, you know, if there is an obviously gorgeous girl pressed into my body, I’m going to react. Or rather, my body will react. But now is so not the right time or place.
I maneuver around her small living room, and as I deposit her on the couch, I catch a sight of clotted blood in her hair. “Fuck,” I hiss. She’s been down for a while…
“What?”
“How did you manage to hit that wall hard enough to split your head open?”
Electra averts her eyes. “None of your business.”
“And whose is it? Your boyfriend’s?”
I watch as her throat bobs with the mention of that fucker. I know I’m probably an asshole for taunting her like that, but I’m not one for cuddles and sweet talk.
“Yep.”
“Now who’s the liar?” I stand up, towering over her so I can get a good look at what she’s done to herself.
“Weren’t you leaving?” she huffs, slapping my hand away from her head. “Why are you even here?”
“Have you met your trainer?” She huffs in answer, which is answer enough. “Exactly.” I force my hands back to her wound and by some God sent miracle, she lets me examine her.
“Look, I don’t know why you’re complaining. You got the best of the fucking best.”
She glares and then lets out a fake cheer. “Exton Quinn, woohoo… Spare me the bullshit, please.” I stare at the top of her head, my lips twisting.
When was the last time a girl was so uninterested, unimpressed, and just plain irritated by me? Even after I kicked them out like sad puppies, they still begged for me to call them.
“Okay, we need to get you to the hospital.” Out of nowhere her hands clutch my arm, fisting my shirt.
“No hospital.” Electra’s breathing picks up, her chest heaving, and I don’t have to be a genius to know she’s on the verge of a panic attack.
“Okay, okay.” I raise my arms while she’s still clutching one forearm. “No hospital, even though you should get that checked out. Where’s your first aid kit?” She points to the bathroom down the hall where I find it under the sink and use it to clean out her cut the best I can.
Thankfully, it’s not too deep and I’ve hurt myself enough times on the ice to know how to take care of bloody wounds.
Electra keeps silent throughout the whole ordeal, in fact, she seems almost checked out. As if she’s done with this day, done with me and her state. She seems empty. Cold.
I keep watching her, but the more I do, the stronger that burn in my chest becomes. Why is she so done?
“There, all clean.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Now you care? After you savagely ate my lasagna?”
“Stop being dramatic.” I roll my eyes. “I was hungry after a three-hour drive. And I’m a growing boy. So, hungry?”
“You’re a growing pain in my ass and I don’t need a babysitter.” She maneuvers herself into the wheelchair that’s nearby, lifting her body with her hands and sliding into it.
“Take it up with Miss Gray, okay? I’m not particularly eager to be here either.”
Electra chucks her tongue, “Fine, babysitter it is,” she grumbles and starts wheeling herself out of the living room. “See you…whenever, I guess.”
“So, should I unpack my bag in the bedroom?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“My bag. You know that thing that has my clothes in it. Where should I put it?”
“I don’t care! Anywhere but here.” She flings her arms. “Lock the door on your way out, would you.”
“No can do. I’m to stay with you at all times. And before you can start spewing your poison my way, let me just say…take it up with Miss Gray.”
And just like that she wheels herself into her room while muttering a string of colorful curses under her breath and slams the door shut.