Page 7 of Steel and Ice

COLT

I hadn’t planned to see her again.

But when Lindsey texted me a selfie outside her favorite restaurant in a skin-tight black dress and heels that made her legs pop, I said yes right away.

The woman across from me was beautiful. Tall, tan, glossy, and stunning. The type of woman who made men feel they should give thanks for being seen in the same establishment as her.

We sat across from each other at the overpriced rooftop bar. Warm light spilled over her glass of red wine, and her laughter tinkled, a sound built for a television commercial.

But tonight wasn’t about her. Not really.

She was hot, sure—curvy and blonde, with a smile that made guys trip all over themselves.

But, unfortunately for me, she was also the complete opposite of everything I craved.

Which, fortunately for me, made her safe.

I showed up fifteen minutes late right after a workout and still felt the burn rippling through my arms and chest. My shirt stuck to me, and I could smell the salt of dried sweat on the cotton. I didn’t apologize, and Lindsey didn’t care.

She leaned in for a kiss that I dodged before I gently squeezed her shoulder.

Dinner was fine.

Lindsey talked about herself… a lot.

Her ex-boyfriend, her career, her personal trainer who she knew wanted to fuck her.

“So,” she said, her tone chipper and upbeat, “what do you do for fun? You know, now that you’re not smashing guys into boards.”

I shrugged. “I lift. I practice. I eat too much. I sleep in.”

She blinked once and gave another laugh that sounded rehearsed.

“Wow,” she said, nearly gushing, “so interesting.”

I took a sip of my drink, which tasted of processed sugar and regret.

“I guess so,” I answered, clipped.

The truth was, I’d lost my ability to be charming. Before, I’d flash a smile, and girls would lean in closer.

Easy.

But tonight, for whatever reason, I couldn’t summon a single ounce of effort for Lindsey.

I nodded along and gave an occasional smirk, which was all she needed to continue talking. She covered her job in marketing, an influencer trip to Napa Valley, an exclusive celebrity party she’d been invited to next weekend.

As she talked, my thumb rubbed a grip that wasn’t there. The table edge became a stick in my mind. My palm was desperate to feel the weight of it again.

But my mind drifted and I thought about how Blair had looked in that parking lot.

Small. Cornered.

How his face had changed when he pretended to keep his cool. How his voice had cracked when Travis got right in his face.

Fuck .

I wasn’t proud of how good it felt.

Wasn’t sorry either.

I shifted in my seat and glanced around the bar, trying my best to tune Lindsey out. Couples on romantic dates leaned close over candlelight, and a guy at the next table ran his thumb across his date’s wrist. She shivered and leaned in closer to him.

The air was humid, thick with perfume and cologne. Soft music rose and fell, a tide that made me feel heady. Dizzy.

Lindsey’s fingertips brushed against the back of my hand. “You’re somewhere else, aren’t you?”

I blinked and stared at her for a second.

She had great skin, great fingers. Red nails. A stunning smile. But not Blair’s fingers. Not how he held his pen, a blade always ready to protect himself. Not how his voice remained calm when his entire body vibrated with pressure beneath the surface.

“Long day,” I muttered. “I’m tired.”

She leaned in and her voice took on a playful tone. “We could skip dessert. Or have it at my place if that sounds better to you.”

There was a time when I’d have said yes without a second thought—hell, without thinking about it at all.

Lindsey had offered herself up on a platter. I should have been grateful, eager… turned on.

But all I could picture was Blair, crouched beside his Prius as his breath came quick and ragged. Pretending he wasn’t shaking.

I told myself to brush him off and forced my thoughts back to Lindsey. Her bed, how good her sheets would smell. Her soft body splayed out before me, eyes eager.

I closed my eyes and pictured Blair’s lips. How they parted when I got too close and crowded him. The flush in his cheeks when I stood within inches of his face.

The differences between them were impossible to ignore. Lindsey smelled of sugar and shampoo. Blair smelled of fear and fire.

She raised one eyebrow as she stared at me.

A frown formed on my face and my nostrils flared. “Another time.”

Lindsey’s smile vanished.

“Oh,” she said, her tone indicating her disappointment. “Okay.”

I rose to my feet and tossed a few bills on the table. “Thanks for the drink.”

She stared at me for a moment and waited for me to explain. When I didn’t, she gave a half-hearted scoff and reached for her purse.

“Whatever,” she said, shaking her head. “Your loss.”

I didn’t respond.

Outside, the night air was mercifully cool. A breeze rushed over me and sliced through my body’s heat. I shoved my hands in my pockets and walked toward the parking garage as sounds of clinking glasses and laughing people faded behind me.

My pulse raced. Too fast. My head was full, and I needed to forget Blair.

But every step forward, I saw him again. A vision I couldn’t shake. His expression, the pen trembling in his hand, the quiet steel forced in his voice. The way he’d looked over at me after Travis—as if he didn’t know whether to be scared of me… or something else.

I reached my truck, climbed in, and didn’t turn the ignition.

Instead, I sat and gripped my wheel. The garage was poorly lit and quiet, save for the faint buzz of fluorescent lights overhead. My grip tightened so hard my knuckles went white.

I didn’t move or even breathe.

Just sat and stared through a dirty windshield, hoping I might discover insight beyond.

I picked up my phone and saw I’d missed a text from my agent: Heads up, your sponsor Credit Rocket wants ‘distance’ until you cool. Remove their patch before your upcoming press conference.

His message pulled me back to reality, back to what was at stake.

Dollar signs raced through my mind. Sums of money most people never dreamed they’d earn in a lifetime.

Shit.

I thought of Lindsey as her perfume clung to my shirt. The scent was floral and lush, but it didn’t cover up that I felt nothing for her. Nothing in the moment, nor after. Not bored, annoyed.

Absolutely nothing.

She’d laughed at my bad jokes. She’d touched my arm repeatedly and invited me to her place. Normally I would’ve gone there. Scratched whatever itch needed to be scratched.

But I hadn’t. Didn’t want her. Didn’t want her lips, her curves.

Her laugh slid off. What stuck with me instead was an image of Blair’s throat working when he said my name. I wanted quiet from him. And then I wanted to be the reason for it.

I slammed the heel of my hand against the steering wheel so hard it let out a sharp blast that bounced off the concrete walls, an accusation of which I was certainly guilty.

I dragged my hand down my face and tried to shake off thoughts of Blair. My focus had become singular.

Obsessed.

Things weren’t supposed to be this way. To feel this way. The furious tightness in my chest hadn’t let up since the night in the parking lot, since I’d seen Blair flinch when Travis grabbed him beside his car.

Since his face turned to look for me. A signal that I was expected. I was necessary.

I hated that I couldn’t get his face out of my mind. It jolted through me over and over, persistently. How Blair looked when he thought no one was watching, no one could see him.

I could feel the moment I’d pried Travis’s hands off of Blair—the shock of it, the satisfaction I’d felt as he’d stumbled backward. The flash on Blair’s face he’d probably assumed I wouldn’t notice.

I didn’t swing on Travis. Didn’t need to. I had other, much more calculated plans for him.

This wasn’t about protecting a guy, an anger management therapist I barely knew. It hadn’t been about justice, about what was right or wrong. It had been personal.

Too personal, crossing a line.

I rubbed at my chest and tried to dig the feeling out, scrape it off me like I’d scrape rust from metal.

I picked up my phone and drafted a text to Blair.

Open your door. Or tell me not to.

A car screeched behind me and pulled out onto the street.

Glaring down at my phone, my heart pounded. I had a simple choice to make. And I knew I’d already made it the second I walked away from the restaurant without an apology for Lindsey.

I deleted the draft, started the engine, and backed out of my spot. The headlights sliced through dew and gloom, but I wasn’t going home. I was going to see Blair.

Even if Blair didn’t know it.

Even if I wasn’t sure what the hell was happening to me. Even if all I did was park outside of his house like a goddamn stalker. Even if I stared at the windows, convinced they held a secret I hadn’t yet solved. I needed to see Blair, if only for a second. Maybe I could think clearly.

Or at least breathe.

I didn’t punch the gas, and I didn’t speed. The growl of the truck’s engine filled the cab; a low, relentless rumble that matched the chaos beating in my chest. I needed something to rattle me apart so I could find the pieces as I drove along.

Every turn of the wheel, every streetlight I passed felt slow, deliberate, painful.

I wasn’t driving anymore.

I was hunting.