Page 79 of Ice King

My words hit him hard, but he certainly wasn’t going to back down.

Neither was I.

“Just stay away from me,” he said with such venom in his voice.

“Don’t worry. I have no intention of interfering with your life again.” As I stepped around him, I dared any other player to jump into the middle. They didn’t, but most turned their heads.

I tried to keep my head high while fighting tears. How ridiculous that I’d allowed him to make me so upset.

A loud crunching sound sent a shockwave through me. Spinning around, I tried to figure out why I’d allowed him to get to me.

The answer was clear and even easy.

I did care about him. Plus, there was a strange connection that was driving me crazy. Almost as if we’d known each other our entire lives.

But seeing him react so violently, driving his fist into the wall was crazy and horrifying.

His actions were also a good reminder of what I’d come from and even though I did care about Ford more than I understood, I couldn’t risk falling so hard that I was blindsided.

Even as I turned my back on purpose to let him know how I felt, a few tears slipped past my lashes, splashing onto my cheeks.

* * *

My dreams had exploded, shifting eroticism into insanity.

Why did I say that?

Because as of late, I’d been certain my little house was being watched. Not by mastermind criminals intent on stealing something of value, but by a wolf. Or maybe several. That I wasn’t certain of, but I was positive I’d seen shimmering green eyes staring at me in the woods out back of the house. If the person was a criminal instead, he or she would be sorely disappointed since I had nothing of real value. I’d sold the items for cash.

“That’s the woman responsible.” The man’s gruff voice dragged me from whatever new daydream I was having.

I didn’t need keen hearing to overhear what was being said. Everything I’d heard about a small town was accurate. News traveled at the speed of lightning. There hadn’t been any public shaming of course, but there hadn’t needed to be.

Plus, even with the television turned on, a requirement of the owner as if we were a sports bar, I sensed he wasn’t trying to disguise his voice. He wanted me to know how angry he was. The entire town needed to chomp down on some gummies.

From what I could tell, Ford had done enough damage, painting me as a femme fatale or at least a hockey hater. The entire town had gone into mourning when the Seattle Wild had lost the game to LA that infamous night. At least the social media heartache had calmed down after puck bunnies had gone wild with their gloating efforts. Ford certainly had plenty of offers if he was so inclined.

I hadn’t been able to watch the game, hiding behind locked doors at the hotel. The plane ride had been chilly, devoid of the Wolfman’s antics. Evidently, Ford had booked another flight. He’d gone to those lengths so he wouldn’t be forced to spend any time in close proximity.

The hunt for the Calder Cup had faded and in some reporters’ minds, so had Ford’s career. With no more games to play and the team on a hiatus, my services hadn’t been needed. I couldn’t imagine the coach asking me back when they started practicing again.

Which had meant finding another job.

With my only partially fake ID, I could pretend I was perfectly legal, but I couldn’t fake a degree. Therefore, I’d taken what I could find in becoming a barista for the Velvet Roast, an adorable coffee and pastry shop that also served sandwiches at lunch. Thankfully, the owner wasn’t a hockey fan, or I doubted I would have been hired.

The man standing with his wife talking about how I’d ruined the only real joy the town had in rooting for the homegrown team was painful, but after almost a month, I was getting used to being shunned.

I plastered on a smile and finished the specialty coffee order, sliding it across the counter. “That’ll be thirteen fifty.”

The man glared at me with the same level of hatred I’d seen on so many faces. I had to admit I was growing weary of the attitudes, but hopefully soon the town would get back to normal.

As far as Ford, I’d heard several different stories about him, including that he was holed up in his house when not working in the office at his parents’ sawmill. Why should I care? He’d chosen to treat me as if I had been trying to hurt him.

To hell with that.

I was woman, hear me roar.

The quarter tip was pushing my boundaries and my patience and after the couple walked away, I simply held the coin into the light. At least I’d learned to fight certain urges, which would ordinarily have me chasing them down and tossing the coin in their faces, telling them they needed the money more than I did.