Page 137 of Ice Mechanic

“Please continue to be a terrible liar, Chance. It’s a very trustworthy trait.”

My lips tug up in response. I love when April laughs. It’s the equivalent of a hundred tiny, fairy wings beating all at once. Or maybe that sound is just the beating of my grateful heart.

Reaching over, I take her hand. “I should have been holding on to you when I invited you to the ball.”

Her smile dims. “Yeah, meeting the parents is a big deal.”

“I already met your dad,” I point out.

“That’s different. Dad is a hockey fan, so you had an unfair advantage.”

“You have an advantage too.” I rub my thumb over the back of her knuckles. “Me. I’m crazy about you.”

She groans. “That’s not enough to convince your parents.”

“My dad loves cars, so you two will hit it off right away. And mom… uh… will respect my choice someday.”

April narrows her eyes. “Is your mom that scary?”

“She’s,” I search for the right term, “opinionated, but you have nothing to worry about.”

April flops against the headrest. “What do I even wear to a ball? I’m not Cinderella. I don’t have a fairy godmother crouching in the bushes, waiting to transform my jumper into a dress.”

“Just wear your overalls if that’s what you’re comfortable in.” I shrug.

“I amnotwearing overalls to a gala. I’m a female mechanic; I’m not socially unaware.”

I chuckle. “I don’t care what you wear, as long as I get to pay for it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I insist.”

“Me too.” She tilts her chin up. Today, she’s not wearing any makeup and her generous freckles spread out across her fair skin like her face was brushed by the stars.

I want to grab her cheeks and kiss the daylight, moonlight—heck, all the lights—out of her.

Instead, I grip the steering wheel and drive up the gravel path that leads to her home.

“We’ll continue this conversation later,” I promise.

She shakes her head in exasperation.

I stop her as she leaves the car. “Oh, before I forget, the gala is this Saturday.”

“ThisSaturday? And you’re just telling me?” Wedging the book beneath her elbow and waist, April hops out of the truck and taps on her cell phone. “I need to call Rebel. I have no idea how we’ll fit dress shopping in between all the repair work at the garage, but if anyone can make it work, she can.”

“Here.” I pull the keys out of the ignition and jog to her. “Take these inside with you.”

“It’s okay. Drive it back to your hotel. I’ll ask Rebel to pick me up tomorrow.”

“That’s too inconvenient. I already planned to call a cab.”

She wraps her hands around mine and pushes the keys toward me. “Chance, you played the Mutteneers last night, hosted a press conference early this morning, and flew straight back to town which means you got little sleep. I don’t want you standing on the side of the road waiting for a taxi, which you won’t get because none work all the way out here.”

I move closer to her. “If you’re so worried about me, you can invite me inside and watch me sleep.”

Her face flushes in embarrassment. Despite that, she raises her fist valiantly. “Have I told you how good I am with a wrench?”

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