Page 84 of Ice Darling
“Is that okay with you?” I let my gaze trail over his broad shoulders and giant arm muscles. “You seem like the type who prefers steak.”
“It’s fine with me,” he says. And then he drops his arm an inch and rubs a circle in my shoulder.
My body reacts instantly.
Heart, thudding.
Bones, melting.
Lips, biting.
“Okay, let’s do that,” I say quietly.
Renthrow’s smile is tender, and the warmth expands from my chest down to my toes. Wanting to thank him, I reach up to the hand he has around my shoulder and lace my fingers through his.
Renthrow’s smile dips, and he gives me a quick look of surprise.
What? You’re the only one who can touch me like that?
His lips curl up again, and he leans toward me.
Brennon clears his throat. “Cordelia, are you still riding?”
I stiffen, resenting the interruption. I was quite enjoying eye-flirting with the hockey player at my side.
“Why would I stop?”
Brennon chuckles. “I thought you would have grown out of that by now.” His attention flicks to Renthrow. “Delia gave her mother a heart attack when she brought home a bike for the first time. I remember going upstairs to her room to talk her out of riding, but she was—is—so stubborn. Has been since we were twelve.”
Renthrow’s attention cuts away from me. “Nothing wrong with being stubborn. I like a woman who knows what she wants.”
I blush while knowing full well that Renthrow is only trying to get on Brennon’s nerves.
Brennon insists, “So you’re not concerned about her riding a motorcycle on all these winding roads?”
“I’m concerned,” Renthrow says slowly.
My eyebrows hike.
“But, Cordelia’s an adult, and it’s what she enjoys. I wouldn’t stop her even if I could.”
Brennon’s smile turns sharp. I recognize that face as the one he makes when he’s about to cinch a negotiation for the company.
“I heard you have a daughter.”
Renthrow’s shoulders tighten on impact.
“Would you wantherriding a motorcycle?”
Renthrow doesn’t look at me as he considers the question. “I wouldn’t.”
Flummoxed, I move completely away from him. It makes sense that he wouldn’t want his daughter on a bike. My parents didn’t either, and given how protective he is of Gordie, I should have expected nothing less.
But it still stings a bit.
“However,” Renthrow adds, “I trust that she’ll make the right decisions, no matter what people think.” He glances down at me. “And I’ll protect her and be there for her, even if she makes choices that I don’t always agree with.”
My heart skips a beat.
