Page 149 of Ice Mechanic

Internally, I groan. He’s going to tease me about being unable to keep my eyes off him when he returns with the drinks. I just know it.

Chance finally breaks eye contact but, just as he takes a step, he collides into someone holding a champagne flute. Instinctually, his hand reaches out to grip the woman’s arm and steady her.

“I’m so sorry,” the woman says, brushing him down. Wine is seeping into the white fabric and exposing his chiseled abs.

“It’s okay,” Chance says, gripping her hands to stop her. “It’s my fault. I was… distracted.”

The woman looks up.

Chance freezes.

My shoulders go tense at his reaction and I tilt my head to get a good look at the woman. The moment I see her, my heart drops straight to my toes.

Those impossibly high cheekbones, puffy lips, and Victoria Secret body are unmistakable.

It’s Fina, Chance’s ex-girlfriend.

CHAPTER

FORTY-THREE

CHANCE

I’mquick on my feet, so when I spin around and see someone barreling toward me, I try to dodge them. Strangely, sidestepping doesn’t help and we still ended up colliding.

“I’m so sorry,” a feminine voice says.

I remove my hand from the elbow where I’d been offering support.

The stranger looks up at me and I reel back. “Fina?”

“Hi, Chance.” Red lips stretch wide in a sultry smile.

Looking down, I realize she’s still rubbing my chest. I remove her hands immediately. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?” She raises thin eyebrows and speaks in a thick accent. “I receive invitation. Same as you.”

I jerk my head around to April. She’s staring at me in concern, but that look turns to horrified shock when Fina glances over my shoulder to see where my gaze has gone.

“Your girlfriend?” Fina says, a question in her tone.

Without a word, I offer her my pocket square to clean up and promptly move past her.

A trio of waiters descend on the mess of broken shards and spilled champagne. One holds a mop and the other steps in my path to offer me a dry towel. Stalking ahead, I let the towel hang limp from my hands.

People move out of my way.

The jazz band stops playing.

The entire room watches my every move, but I barely register any of them. My attention is on one person and one person only.

“Chance.” April gapes at me, tilting her head back. Her hands flutter to her throat. “What…?”

Gruffly, I grab her hand and lead her out of the ballroom. She stumbles behind me, hurrying to keep up in her heels.

When I realize she’s struggling, I slow my pace but only by a bit.

“Chance, are you okay?” My mother blocks my path, her eyes wide. “I have a set of extra clothes in our room upstairs. Your father couldn’t decide between his two tuxes until the last minute. Take this and dry off before you catch a cold.” Mom offers me a room card.

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