Page 14 of Hot As Ice

BECCA BURSTS INTO my room the next morning as I’m getting ready for class.

“Something just arrived for you,” she says, eyes wide.

“What kind of something?”

“A big box with a red bow on it.” She pauses and gives me a meaningful look. “It’s from Hunter.”

I drop my blush brush and race to the living room, Becca hot on my heels.

The box is brown, a red velvet bow tied all around it like a big Christmas present. A card tucked into the bow reads: “To Stevie, From Hunter.”

I’m speechless.

“Aren’t you gonna open it?” Becca asks.

“I need a moment to process this.”

“Girl, same.”

“Who delivered it?”

“Some guy. I didn’t recognize him.”

So many questions race through my mind. Why is Hunter sending me anything? How does he know where I live? Is he stalking me? WHAT THE HELL IS IN THE BOX?

“Stevie,” Becca says. “Open the box.”

I shake my head. It feels like Pandora’s box. It feels like if I open this unasked-for gift, I’ll be unleashing a world of craziness and stress and hell into my life.

“Can you open it for me?” I ask Becca like a total coward. My hands are clenched and pressed to my chest, that now-familiar feeling of terror mixed with excitement making my heart pound like a drum.

Becca doesn’t need to be asked twice. She grabs one end of the bow and pulls, then slips her fingers underneath the top of the box and removes it, revealing white tissue paper. I’m holding my breath. She looks at me and I nod, and she carefully, reverently peels the tissue paper away.

“It’s a gown,” she says, sounding awed. Gently grabbing the straps, Becca lifts the dress out of the box and holds it up for my perusal. It’s stunning. Black with a subtle sweetheart neckline and a slit that seems way too high for my taste. I swallow. Becca checks the tag. “It’s 100% silk,” she says in wonder. “Wow.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Um, yeah, considering everything in the world is some kind of polyester blend these days.” She looks at the gown in her hands. “I bet it cost a fortune.”

“I can’t accept it,” I say, turning on my heel and heading for the kitchen. I need a glass of water. Or a shot of tequila.

I pour water from the tap and gulp it down loudly.

Becca joins me in the kitchen, an envelope held in both hands. “This was also in the box.” We stare at each other. “Want me to open it?”

I nod slowly.

Becca tears it open and takes out a single card, reading it out loud: “The honor of your presence is requested at the grand opening of the Madera Art Gallery, hosted by Jack Cruise and the Cruise Family.”

Becca holds the card out for me. My eyes zero in on the date. This Sunday.

“Hunter must want you to wear that dress to the opening,” Becca says. “Damn, girl.”

I press the invitation to my chest and groan. “I can’t believe this.”

“Poor Stevie,” Becca says in a teasing tone. “Forced to wear an expensive dress to a fancy art gallery opening with the hottest guy on campus.”

I glare at her. “Shut up. This is nerve-wracking. I won’t even know anyone there.”