Page 35 of Ice Mechanic

Giving up on a physical slap, she hurls her words instead. “I don’t care how much money you have or how famous you are, I amnotthat kind of girl. And you can forget about that contract, you creep!”

My laughter booms out of me before I can control myself.

Enraged green eyes blaze with fiery, hellish fumes.

“April, I’m not trying to make a move on you. Not that you’d be able to stop me right now.”

She crosses her arms like an X over her chest. “Don’t eventhinkabout it, bub.”

I raise both hands in surrender. “That was a joke. Maybe not a good one but…” I shake my head. “Think about it. Once you take off your jumper, you won’t be attached to the car anymore.”

“Is that why you gave me your hoodie?” The suspicion slowly seeps out of her eyes.

“That and I really wanted to show off my muscles.” I give her a crooked grin.

At the mention of my muscles, April sweeps her gaze down in an approving once-over. Her eyes stop at the band of my pants and she blushes from the tip of her head to all the way down her neck.

“They’re notthatbig,” she argues, her voice cracking underneath the weight of her lie.

“You’re right. Big isn’t what you said. I think the word you used earlier was ‘giant’.”

She clears her throat aggressively. “Turn around.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Are you going to watch me while I…?” She blushes. “Take my jumper off?”

Now it’s my turn to stutter. “Oh, yeah. Right.”

I face the door.

While the sound of her zipper rips through the quiet garage, I force myself to think about that play from the Lucky Striker’s final game—the one that secured them eighth place—and not about the material sliding down her legs.

Defender 1 makes a pass on the strong side of the ice to the left winger.

April moans behind me.

The zipper makes another loud noise.

Sweat pops out on my forehead.

I take out my fidget spinner and give it a whack.

If the winger doesn’t have an opening, the center has to be ready for the pass.

“Chance, um…” Her feeble voice rings out. “Chance, I… I think my zipper’s stuck.”

“What?” I croak.

“My zipper. It’s stuck. I need your help.”

Heart convulsing in my ribs and eyes on the ceiling, I turn around. “Stuck where?”

“Right where I bent it to tie the sleeves. I think it got caught in the fabric or… I don’t know.”

There’s a thick cotton ball in my throat making it impossible to swallow. Heat fans up and down my skin and I know it is averybad idea to touch April right now.

“Can’t you try again?”

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