Page 138 of Ice Mechanic

I laugh and step back a safe distance away. “Thanks for letting me drive the truck. I have training early tomorrow morning—Max’s way of punishing me for taking off early—but I’ll leave the keys at the front desk. They shouldn’t give you any problems.”

“Got it.” She waves sweetly. “Bye.”

I wave back, wishing I could ask her to stay with me a few seconds longer.

April doesn’t feel the same yearning because she skips up the stairs, opens her front door and disappears inside without looking back.

If that’s any barometer of her feelings, I am far more into her than she is into me. Surprisingly, that doesn’t bother me at all.

I trudge back to the truck, and a heavy sigh floats past my lips.

What is this strange feeling? I put a hand to my chest and my heart pangs with sadness.

I just saw April, but… I miss her already.

Whoa, I’m in deep.

I slam the door shut and turn the ignition when April’s front door bursts open and she blazes down the path in quick-booted strides. Urgently, she yanks the passenger side door open and swings into the passenger seat.

“Did you forget something?” I peer at the floor mat, ready to use my phone’s flashlight app and help her look around.

To my surprise, two soft hands land on either side of my face. My eyebrows shoot straight to the roof of the car as April leans in and plants her soft, pink lips on my cheek. The kiss is gentle enough to rival a butterfly’s wings.

Before I can react, she straightens, looks at me in harried silence, and then backpedals fast. I watch her scurry back to her house and slam the door shut like someone’s chasing her with a saw.

Slowly, I lift a hand to the cheek that she’d kissed.

I’m over six feet and almost two hundred pounds, but I feel light enough to float straight to space.

After a few minutes, I start the car and avoid looking at myself in the rearview mirror. I already know what I’ll find in my reflection—the sappiest smile known to man.

Oh-ho. You’re a goner, McLanely.

There’s no point arguing with the truth.

In the stillness, my phone rings and I check to find my mother’s name blazing across the screen.

The smile drifts off my face and I inhale a deep breath before answering. “Hey, mom.”

“I am reallyverytired of calling you first, dear.”

“I meant to call, mom. We’ve been traveling to games almost every day. I didn’t realize the minors were this busy.”

“Is that all you have to say to me?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You saw the conference?”

“I own a TV, cell phone and have working internet. I believe anyone within those categories in the United States of America and some parts of Canada saw your interview. It was everywhere.”

“Are you calling to congratulate me then?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” she responds tartly.

A sigh erupts from my chest. Driving around with April, I hadn’t been tired in the least. In fact, I could have played a full gameandgone to the gym for cardio training. But three seconds on the phone with my mother, and my entire body feels drained.

“Calling someone ‘family’ before the world is a serious claim, Chance. You practically swore you’d make that woman a McLanely one day.”

“I know what I said.”

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