Page 67 of Ice Mechanic

The rest of the WWW grunt in acknowledgement.

Bobby’s smile gets a little less nervous. “I’ll drop you off at the arena first.”

When the conversation breaks up, I drop to one knee, pretending to tie my shoe.

“Whoa!” Bobby says loudly. “Chance, I did not see you there.” His stilted, acting voice makes me inwardly cringe.

“Hey, Bobby. Drive safely, man.” I bump his fist.

“You’re not coming?” Gunner asks, giving me the stink eye.

“Nah.” I shake my head. “My agent is picking me up for a photoshoot. I’ll come in a little later.” Smiling a little wider, I tell Gunner, “I didn’t know you cared so much about my schedule?”

He rolls his eyes and stalks outside.

The rest of the WWW pass me without comment.

When Bobby turns to follow them, he gives me a little nod.

I nod back.

The WWW are about to be served a little taste of revenge.

CHAPTER

TWENTY

APRIL

“You knowthose makeover scenes in the movies where the main character walks into a store and two minutes later she walks out with all her shopping bags?”

“Yeah?” Rebel calls.

I shove the dressing room curtain aside. The hooks make atsksound as it travels the length of the metal rails. “Why ismymakeover scene taking seven days?”

“Because this is real life, not a montage, silly. Now spin.” Rebel sticks up two fingers and makes a ‘twirl’ gesture.

I do a three-sixty. “Have I mentioned how much I hate shopping?”

“That you have.” Rebel shakes her head at my outfit and her glossy blonde hair ripples with the movement. She shoos me away.

“I asked you for a dress. A single dress. I feel like I’ve tried hundreds of dresses since then. One of themmustbe acceptable enough.” I stomp back into the dressing room.

“Stop whining!” May yells at me, capping her bottle of water. She turns sideways in the couch and lets her legs dangle over the edge. “How does Rebel put up with you?”

I push my head out of the dressing room curtains to give my sister the stinkiest of stink eyes.

She sticks her tongue out at me.

Rebel waves me back into the dressing room. “Try on the red one!”

“The sparkly red one with the low cut? No thanks!”

“It’s not a low cut. It has a perfectly respectable V-neck and yes, youwillwear it because your date is tomorrow and we have literally run out of time.”

“None of this would be necessary if you’d just lent me a dress,” I grumble, slithering out of the short white dress with the poofy skirt and capped shoulders.

“April, I’m several inches taller than you and we have two different body types. You wouldn’t fit in my clothes.”

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