House of Payne: Ice Page 6

  “Yeah. Indifference would’ve been one hell of a problem, but hatred? Baby, I can work with hatred. You get inside,” he added, picking up the envelope and handing it to her. “I don’t like you out here on these concrete steps when it’s this cold out. One slip and you could wind up breaking your neck.”

  She looked down at the bone-dry steps. “It’s fine.”

  “No, it’s not, and I’m bringing rock salt over to make sure these steps don’t turn into a damn ice rink. Get inside,” he said again as the snow began falling in earnest. “I’ll always make sure you’re safe, Sunny. See you later.”

  “No, you won’t,” she said, trying to get control of the situation, but he was already moving through the wrought iron gate.

  Chapter Five

  The clock never moved more slowly than it did on a Friday, Sunny was sure of it. She’d been on alert for a good twenty-four hours, thanks to Ice’s departing “see you later,” to the point where she was now exhausted from expecting him to pop up at any moment.

  He hadn’t, thankfully. At least not in person. But this morning her mother had come in from checking the mail to ask Matt if he’d forgotten to put away the large bag of rock salt that was on their front stoop, with their steps and walkway freshly salted.

  I’ll always make sure you’re safe, Sunny.

  Warmth bloomed in her chest every time she thought about that salt. Which was ridiculous, of course. It was just salt. Ordinary, boring salt.

  Salt that was there to keep her from harm.

  Did that mean he cared about her?

  Ugh.

  No. Ice cared only about himself. She’d learned that the hard way. He was up to something, she was sure of it.

  See you later.

  God help her, she couldn’t live like this.

  She wouldn’t live like this.

  Ice was out of her life, damn it.

  It was up to her to put him out of her mind.

  “Happy Friday.” June and Franklin Lennig were at the overburdened coat tree as Sunny approached, and June beamed at her. “Everyone’s headed over to Booboo Kitty’s for a night a karaoke and chocolate martinis. You game?”

  “No one in their right mind would want me to sing in public,” Sunny drawled and reached for her coat. “The very thought is painful, both for me and my victims-slash-audience.”

  “Being awful is part of the fun. When someone hits a sour note, we all yowl at the singer like a cat in heat. It’s hilarious.”

  Good grief. “Um, I actually have plans tonight,” she lied. “But thanks for the offer.”

  “Of course.” Franklin also beamed as he helped his wife into her coat. “You’re a young lady and it’s a Friday night, so naturally you’ve got other plans. Does this mean you’re settling into your new life here in Chicago?”

  “Newish life, anyway. Don’t forget, I am a native Chicagoan.” She smiled, reaching for her scarf. “I have to admit, I missed the changing of seasons when I lived in L.A.”

  “Snow is great, especially in December,” June sighed happily while the door opened behind them. “When I was a child, I thought December snow was magical—you know, like the kind that made Frosty the Snowman.”

  Sunny chuckled. “I remember my first December in L.A. I was so homesick for snow, a friend took me to the beach so we could build sand men—southern California’s version of snowmen.”

  “I was torn between that and driving you up into the mountains to find some snow for you,” a familiar voice said right behind her. “But I figured you needed to learn the charms of a beach-style winter, so making a bonfire and building sand men was the next best option.”

  Sunny whirled around to find Ice no more than a foot behind her, grinning like the devil himself. “Where in the world did you come from?”

  “Technically speaking, a prenup, a twisted inheritance obligation, and a phony paternity test. Franklin, June, it’s good to see you,” he added, nodding to each in turn. “Doing anything exciting tonight?”

  “We’re off to karaoke night with the gang.” June gestured back at the office to encompass everyone still there. “We invited Sunny, but she’s being a party pooper. Says she has other plans.”

  “I think we’re looking at Sunny’s other plans, dear.” With a smile, Franklin guided his wife toward the door. “Have a nice evening, you two. And try not to discuss business the entire time. It’s Friday night, so live a little.”

  “This job is a fucking joke when it comes to fitting who you really are,” Ice muttered for Sunny’s ears alone as he watched the Lennigs go. “But they’re good people. A little weird, but no weirder than the ink community.”

  “The ink community is way weirder, trust me on this.” She took a precious moment to bolt her game face on before turning to him. If she had her game face on, he’d never guess the memory of their bone-melting kiss was currently running through her brain on a continuous loop. “What are you doing here?”

  “I just finalized the shipping date for the promo kickers and wanted to iron out the details with you. What other plans?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Friday night’s a big night, and you’ve got plans that don’t include karaoke with your coworkers. What are they?”

  “Oh. Uh…” Her brain went blank, and no matter how good her mask was, there was no covering that. “None of your business.”

  “Uh-huh. You didn’t want to do karaoke, so you made up some nonexistent plans.”

  Jerk. “You don’t think I can get myself a date on a Friday night?”

  “I know you can,” came the immediate reply. “A knockout like you could have a different man every night of the week.”

  She rolled her eyes before focusing on buttoning up her coat. “You don’t have to say stuff like that. I’m not a knockout.”

  “I figured out a long damn time ago that speaking the truth is the only way to live hassle-free. That means I think you’re a knockout who didn’t correct Franklin when he assumed I was your date tonight. That means you didn’t want to do karaoke.”

  Grrr. “Stop saying I’m a knockout. I’m not.” If she were, she would have bowled him over ages ago.

  “You fishing for compliments, Sunny day? Because I can give them to you all night long,” he added when she simply shook her head and headed for the exit. “I can tell you that those big brown eyes of yours are the stuff poems are made of. I can tell you that the mere sight of your legs would turn the righteous thoughts of a saint into a never-ending, X-rated porno. And don’t even get me started about how impossible it is to tell whether the view of you from the back is more boner-worthy than the front, because honest to Christ, I’ve never been able to figure that one out.”

  “Stop.” Torn between wanting to believe him and hating herself because she wanted to, Sunny halted at the door leading to the parking lot and nailed him with a furious gaze. “Just stop, all right? Stop playing these stupid head games. Just tell me what it is that you want from me and get it over with.”

  He came to a halt with no more than an inch or two separating them. One strong hand went to the door’s push-bar handle, and the other leaned against the wall beside her head, effectively cornering her. “You think I’m playing games?”

  “I know you’re playing games,” she shot back, trying to stand strong when his nearness was having the oddest effect on her. It was like he had the power to melt her bones, leaving her nothing but a gooey, hot mess. “You’ve never said a damn thing about my eyes or legs or any other part of my anatomy, because you obviously didn’t think there was anything worth commenting on.”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

  “I’m not putting words in your mouth. I’m remembering the reality of you not being attracted to me.”

  “What you’re remembering is me keeping my distance until I was sure I had control of my own damn life. It’s been one helluva struggle, but I’m finally there.”

  She stared at him, baffled. What was he talking about? “You
were always in control of your own life, Ice.”

  “No, I wasn’t, but I’ve got all the keys to the kingdom now and I’m never going to lose that control again. So I guess that means I’ve got some advice for you.”

  “Advice?”

  He nodded. “Get used to me telling you all about my profound admiration for your eyes, and your legs, and just wait until you hear what I have to say about your ass.”

  Oh, boy. “Maybe I’ll just chalk this up to you going through a phase. It could be you’re simply feeling insecure in a new town, and I’m a familiar face. That’s probably what this is.”

  “Do I strike you as being insecure?”

  He had her there. “No.”

  “Then we can agree that theory is bullshit, yeah?”

  “Nothing else makes sense,” she muttered, frustrated. “You don’t make sense.”

  “I’m making perfect sense, but you’re so damn determined to not believe a word I say that you can’t even hear me, can you? Not one fucking word I’ve said has gotten through to you.”

  Now he was getting it. “I’m not an idiot, Ice. You’re angling to get something out of me, something you clearly know I’m not going to give up easily, so you’re doing your best to lay on the charm so thick I’m choking on it. You even made a stupid excuse about a fundraiser using cat toys—I mean, freaking cat toys—just so you could cross my path in a way that I can’t scrape you off without pissing off my employers, so yeah. You. Are. Playing. Games. I want to know why. Man up and tell me what the hell you’re up to, or lose what little respect I have left for you.”

  For long, drawn-out seconds he studied her, and it unnerved her that she could practically see the wheels turning behind those deep blue eyes.

  What was he up to?

  “Okay, Sunny day.” He nodded slowly, and somehow that action seemed to bring him closer to her. “You want to know what I want from you? I’ll tell you, but not here. If you really want to know what I’m up to, you’ll come with me. No questions,” he went on when she opened her mouth to do just that. “You’ll just come with me.”

  She stared up at him, trying and failing to get some kind of read on him. All she knew was that if she wanted to know what was going on, she had no other choice.

  Mouth tight, she nodded once. “Lead the way.”

  Of all the places Sunny thought he’d take her, she never expected a cozy little restaurant overlooking the North Shore. The parking lot was jam-packed—not surprising for a Friday night even with the temperature in the teens. What was surprising was how the hostess immediately showed them to a private corner table overlooking the lake from a wall of windows. The table was flanked by overstuffed banquette-style benches, with backrests so high it created its own private space. Curiously she looked around the dining area lit mainly by candles, and saw there wasn’t a table to be had, and the restaurant’s roomy vestibule in the front was standing-room only.

  “You had a reservation, didn’t you?” Sunny asked as she settled onto one of the cushy banquettes that felt more like a comfy sofa than formal restaurant seating.

  “Yeah.” He slid in beside her, his thigh coming into contact with hers. Instantly her already-skittish nervous system exploded into jangling hysterics. “I don’t know jack about this city, so I asked around work for a good restaurant to take you to. This fondue place seemed to be the consensus, so here we are.”

  Fondue. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had it, but she adored it. “You sure were confident you could get me here.”

  “I was right to be confident. Here you are.”

  Damn it. “Yes, here I am, on a bench that’s not quite built for two.”

  “You could always move over.” His leg moved against hers, a pleasant friction she couldn’t ignore. “At this point I’m just huddling for warmth. The cold really doesn’t bother you?”

  “No.” Besides, cold wasn’t an issue when his thigh was pressed against hers. More like the exact opposite. “We had a deal, Ice. You wanted me to go with you, and in return you’d tell me what the hell you’re up to. I went with you. I’m here with you. Now it’s time for you to keep your end of the deal. Why are you here?”

  “Maybe I should conjure up some crazy-ass tinfoil-hat theory just to keep your entertained.” The waiter appeared at their table, and Ice paused long enough to order a beer for himself and a white wine for her. She probably should have been irked, but manufacturing ire over his high-handedness when there was plenty to be genuinely pissy about wasn’t her thing. “I’m not going to do that, though,” he went on once they were alone again. “I don’t believe in lies, and I’m not creative enough to string that kind of bullshit together.”

  “So don’t bullshit me. Tell me why you’re in Chicago and back in my life. I never thought I’d see you again,” she went on, unable to bottle it up any longer. He needed to know the emotional roller coaster she was on now, and that it was all his fault. “I never wanted to see you again. Not ever. But here you are, and now all I can think is that no matter how many millions of people live in this town, Chicago still isn’t big enough for the both of us.”

  His eyes looked almost black in the candle’s golden glow, and as their drinks arrived and he ordered a Swiss fondue pot for two, his hand came to cover hers, shocking her into stillness. What the hell, she thought numbly while a flush ignited from the top of her head all the way down to the juncture of her thighs. Holding hands wasn’t an Ice move. He didn’t hold on to people, period. From the time he’d dropped out of law school and opened Skull and Bones Ink, he hadn’t once touched her, or anyone, really. The rare one-night stand had seemed to be his specialty, and he rejected anyone stupid enough to try to hold on to him. He’d even shunned his parents by barring them from stepping foot inside Skull and Bones Ink, and hired extra security to make sure they never did. God knew he hadn’t held on to her. He’d gotten rid of her like he’d just been waiting for an excuse to do it.

  What was this all about?

  When they were alone again he turned back to her, his hand still on hers. “Okay, you need to run that by me again, and this time fill in the damn details. Chicago’s not big enough for the both of us why, exactly?”

  “Are you serious?” She stared at him before yanking her hand from his. It was the only way she could stay sane. “For my twentieth birthday, you made me think we were moving from friends to lovers, before pulling that rug out from under me without a word of explanation. When I decided to forgive you for being a fickle ass, I chose to be a friend you could depend on. With my shiny new degree and a driving ambition to make a big splash in the world, I helped you build your business into one of the most famous tattoo studios in the world. I did that in just two short years by working myself half to death, and what did you do? You thanked me for it by firing me. That was when I finally got it through my head that you don’t give a damn about anyone except yourself, so fine. The message came through loud and clear that I wasn’t wanted in L.A., so I came back home to where I belong. Unfortunately, you didn’t stay where you belonged, so now everything is screwed up.”

  “I only give a damn about myself, huh?” He took a long swig of beer when she had the weirdest feeling he wanted to throw it at the wall. “Is that how I seem to you?”

  I’ll always make sure you’re safe, Sunny.

  Grimly she willed the memory away. “It doesn’t make sense that you’re in a city where you don’t belong, back in my life where you also don’t belong. I want to know why. And don’t you dare insult my intelligence by saying cat toys,” she warned ominously. “I swear to God, I’ll get up and leave right now if those words come out of your mouth. Do not doubt me on this.”

  “Oh, I believe you. That’s a definite characteristic I’ve noticed about you over the years—when you decide to be stubborn about something, that’s it. Done deal. And you’re right,” he added before she could point out the only times she’d ever been stubborn was when he was determined to be impossible. “I don’t
give a damn about this cat toy shit with the Lennigs. Or I should say, I care about it as much as you do, which is not at all.”

  “It’s my job. I’m paid to care.”

  “You could quit tomorrow and not give it another thought.”

  It was infuriating, how well he knew her. “We’re not talking about me here. Why did you show up with this absurd story about some fundraiser? What do you really want?”

  “You.”

  She stared at him, icing over her emotions so hard at his response she didn’t even feel a flutter. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  He quirked a brow at that. “Yeah?”

  “Of course. Are you starting up a new business and need help with it? Why not just come right out and ask? Oh, wait,” she interrupted herself with a snap of her fingers. “I know why. You thought I wouldn’t agree to help you because you screwed me over so bad the last time. Well, you’re right. I wouldn’t help you now if you begged me.”

  “I’m not into begging, and once again you’re not hearing me.” With a sigh, he reached for his beer and took another drink. “The only way you’re going to get this is if I draw you a picture, so fine. First things first—I wasn’t kidding when I told you that a good portion of the Skull and Bones Ink sale belongs to you. That business would’ve gone down the shitter if you hadn’t come along and slapped me into shape, so you deserve a major cut of the cake. And don’t tell me you don’t want it,” he added in a dangerous voice when she opened her mouth to say that very thing. “Money’s yours. You earned it. You’re taking it. Give it the fuck away, for all I care, but take it off my hands and off my conscience.”

  Nice to know he had one. “So that’s why you’ve turned up like a bad penny? You have a guilty conscience and you want to unload it by way of money?”

  “I guess that’s what you’d think a guy like me would do, yeah?” A smile she’d never seen from him before curled his mouth, an ice-hard, bitter curve of his lips that had nothing to do with humor. “See a problem, throw money at it until it goes away?”