Page 103 of Ice Mechanic

Apparently, the bookshelf feels the same way because a sharp slice of pain splits apart all the hot sensations flooding from his mouth to mine.

“Ow!” I scream.

My hands fly to the top of my head and my gaze sails to the ground, taking in the giant book titledSpecial Species: World Research Edition.

It really did feel like the entire world took a sledgehammer to my head.

“Are you okay?” Chance’s eyes bulge.

I whimper in pain, holding my hand to the center of my scalp. I think the edge of the book nicked a brain vessel. It hurts so much.

“Come over here.” Chance leads me to the center of the library where the light is much brighter. He whisks his fingers into my scalp, gently probing. “I’m sorry, Tink. No matter how good the kissing was, I shouldn’t have pushed you against the bookshelf.”

I can feel my face turning into a full-on tomato. “Seriously?That’swhat you’re apologizing for?”

Chance’s lips twitch before he curbs the smile and says solemnly, “I don’t see any blood. Let me get you some ice.”

I scowl at him. “They don’t keep ice in the library.”

There used to be an ice machine left over from the water factory but it broke last summer, flooding the room and ruining hundreds of books.

Unfortunately, Chance doesn’t listen. He insists on leading me through the library and out into the open air.

Then he leads me to the reading gazebo a few paces from the library’s back door.

And what I see there makes me gasp out loud.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-NINE

CHANCE

April’s reactionto my surprise does not disappoint. Her eyes sparkle and her mouth parts on a stunned gasp.

The moment would be perfect… if there wasn’t a bump on her head the size of a hockey puck.

“This way. Watch your step.” I guide her up the gazebo stairs. The structure’s been outfitted with beautiful string lights, fresh flowers, and a thick rug that was flown in from an exotic country that I’ve forgotten the name of.

I have to hand it to the event planner, the fluffy decoration was the right call. It feels like we’re sitting on a cloud.

April sinks into the soft fibers and leans against the sturdy picnic baskets containing our dinner of fancy sandwiches topped withimportedolives (or so was listed on the bill), baked chicken, and cheese platters.

I dive into the ice box, bypass the wine chilling on top, push past the lemonade and beer coolers, and scoop out a few cubes. Looking around for a cloth to wrap the ice in, I disentangle the fancy tablecloth wrapped around the cutlery, drop the ice inside and tie it up.

“Here.” I press the makeshift ice pack against April’s head.

She barely registers the movement.

“April, honey, you need to hold this where it hurts.”

She absently presses the ice pack to her crown, too busy tracking every inch of the gazebo to scold me about calling her ‘honey’. Although now that I have, I’m definitely calling her that again.

“Is that… a candy stand?” April points to the M&Ms, Oreos, and mini chocolate bars arranged in rustic, wicker baskets. Each basket carries a silver scoop and a tiny, handwritten cardboard sign bearing the treat’s name.

“And gummy bears!” April dumps the ice pack and crawls toward the treat.

I hiss in disapproval. “We’ll tend to your wound first, then we can eat.”

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