Page 24 of Breaking the Ice

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t want you crying foul on our bet.”

A small smile crosses those luscious lips of hers. “Too cheap to pay an extra month’s rent, huh?”

Shaking my head, I confess, “Too proud to have you think I wasn’t capable of basic chores.”

That seems to take her off guard. “Why do you care what I think?”

Taking a step closer, I ask, “Why wouldn’t I?”

She ducks around me and heads toward the windows. “Don’t play games with me, Zach. I’m not in the mood.”

“I’m not playing games.” I seriously have no idea why this woman hates me so much. Unless she’s so gullible that she believes everything she hears on television.

Ellie gathers the curtains and strides purposefully toward the door. “I’ll bring these back later today.” And then, like a jackrabbit pursued by a hungry fox, she hightails it back up the path.

I don’t have time to try to figure out why she has a bee in her bonnet. Instead, I fix myself a quick breakfast and get dressed for the day. If Yolanda is arriving this morning, I need to get to the rink and stake my territory.

The first thing I need to do is make sure I have a key to the office, so I have sanctuary whenever I need it. The second item on my agenda is to think of a way to keep Yolanda in check, so she doesn’t make my public life any more miserable than she already has. Given the damage she’s already done, I do wonder at my chances.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Ellie

I blame my sorry lack of a social life for my inability to keep my cool around Zach. Once again, I nearly drooled all over the man. It didn’t hurt that he did such a great job cleaning those windows—I’ve always considered men doing housework highly attractive. Having said that, I don’t need any more reasons to want to climb Zachary Hart like a ladder that leads to an all-you-can-eat french fry buffet.

I hurry back into the house and toss Zach’s curtains into the wash before waking my mom. I bring her a bowl of her favorite oatmeal combo—steel-cut oats, flavored with peanut butter, cinnamon, and candied ginger. “Good morning,” I sing as I open her blinds. “How did you sleep?”

Mom rolls over but doesn’t open her eyes. Checking her pain meds, I notice the cap is ajar. She can no longer screw on lids and caps—a byproduct of her crippled joints. As such, I deduce she needed extra pain meds in the middle of the night. Being that I don’t know when she took them, I can’t gauge how long she’ll sleep.

I write a note for her on the pad of paper she keeps by her bedside telling her that I’m leaving her breakfast in the kitchen and all she needs to do is pop it in the microwave for forty-five seconds. Then I ask her to text me when she wakes up.

I hate leaving the house while Mom’s still in bed, but I’m expected over at Kelly’s to fill baskets and I don’t want to knock her off schedule.

Saying a silent prayer my mom gets up okay on her own, I grab my purse and head out the door. The air is cooling to the point where I now carry a sweater with me, which is no hardship. Fall is my favorite season. Colorful leaves, the bluest skies you’ve ever seen, and pumpkin-spice everything. Sign me up!

Zach’s SUV is still next to mine, so I hurriedly get into my car. I don’t need more interaction with him if I can help it. On the way to Kelly and Troy’s, my mind is full of thoughts regarding my boss’s insanely rich and handsome brother. Zach is nothing like I expected him to be, which I find highly disconcerting. I thought he’d be arrogant and dismissive, but he’s not either of those things. In fact, he seems to want to engage with me, which is causing my blood pressure to rise at an alarming rate.

I pass Troy as I pull into the Harts’ driveway. He slows down and opens the passenger-side window. “Morning, Ellie. Kelly was up most of the night with Tommy. The little booger had an upset stomach.”

“Too much ice cream?” I guess.

“That might be part of it, but likely the biggest culprit is having eaten a pound of salmon all by himself. That kid has no shutoff valve when it comes to food he loves.”

Zach must have brought over the salmon he bought at the store. I don’t know why, but that charms and irritates me in equal measure—which appears to be my baseline feeling about the man.

“What about the older boys?” I ask. “Are they up yet?”

“Up and out,” he says. “The school is hosting a pancake breakfast and there’s no way they were going to miss that.”

I’m not surprised to hear this, as the Hart family never seems to rest. “Okay. I’ll head in and start assembling. Do you want me to take the baskets to the lodge when they’re done?”

“Bring them to the arena. We’re going to hand them out after we introduce everyone to the press tomorrow.”

Nodding my head, I tell him, “Sounds good.”

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