Page 76 of Hot As Ice

“So, you like Celeste, huh?” I ask between bites.

“I thought you didn’t wanna talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about me. But I like talking about you.”

Stevie huffs in annoyance. “That’s not fair.”

“Nothing is fair between us.”

She takes a bite of the shrimp and chews, looking thoughtfully into the distance. “Celeste seems sweet,” she finally says. “She’s much younger than your dad. But some women like older men. She’s totally in love. I’m happy for her. And she’s been very kind to me. So, yeah, I guess I do like her.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s good that you two get along.”

“You should probably try to get to know her better, too.”

“We’re not talking about me, remember?”

“Sorry.”

I nod at her plate. “How’s the pasta?”

“Oh my god, it’s delicious. You’re an amazing cook.”

“Come over and I’ll cook for you every night. Whatever you want. After I fuck you senseless, of course.”

Stevie sets her plate on the coffee table and shifts so she’s facing me. “Hunter, I don’t want you to pay me for, um, that anymore.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s wrong. I should’ve never agreed to it. I should’ve tried harder to find a job.”

“I thought you were trying hard.”

She sighs. “I mean, yeah, I was but⁠—”

“But nothing. You weren’t getting anywhere even though you were applying nonstop. You were donating plasma for money, for fuck’s sake. I wasn’t about to let you get evicted from your place.”

“I know. I know. But getting paid for…that…it’s like I’m a –”

“Only I can break the contract, and I’ll break it on my terms, not yours. Understood?”

“You can’t be serious about that!”

I glare at her. “This is the second time you’ve said I’m not serious about the contract. The contract is binding, Stevie. I signed it. You signed it. You don’t get to dictate any terms now. And, yes, I’m fucking serious.”

I stare her down until she blinks and looks away. Good. She better never doubt me again. She goes back to eating her food and I finish my steak. When she’s done with the pasta, I grab both our plates and take them to the kitchen. Stevie follows me.

“Do you have ice cream?” she asks. “Or maybe like a popsicle or something?”

I pull open the freezer drawer. “Of course, I do.”

“Oh my god, you have a million different kinds.” She looks at me in surprise.

I shrug. “Popsicles are my favorite.”