Meet Your Match (Kings of the Ice, #1)(45)

My entire body froze as the familiar voice crooned in my ear.

“How’s it feel to be the hottest thing on the Internet?”

He chuckled on the end of that stupid fucking question, but I was too busy reminding myself to breathe, to blink, to not pass out in the back of a cab.

“Hello? Did I lose you?”

I snorted a laugh at that, my senses coming back to me in a whoosh. “Yes, actually. Years ago. Why are you calling me, James?”

I glanced down at my phone again, pissed that he clearly had a new number. I’d blocked his old one, making sure something like this could never happen. Then again, he was on the PGA Tour now. He probably had some fancy new phone on some fancy private plan that the normal population didn’t have access to. I didn’t even know if that was a thing, but I did know that he tied for tenth place at a tournament earlier this year and still made three-hundred grand. In one weekend.

I hated myself for knowing that, for the night I drank a bottle of wine and went down a Google rabbit hole with my ex as the target.

“Hey, easy now,” he said, his voice as deep and smooth as I remembered. I could still picture his smile, could imagine him holding up his hands like he came in peace right before he wrecked my whole world. “I was just thinking of you. It’s been a long time.”

“You were just thinking of me,” I repeated, deadpan. “Meaning, you saw the photo Vince posted of us last night.”

He barked out a laugh at that. “Transparent as an ice cube, aren’t I?” He let his laugh die off, a moment of silence before he added, “So… is it true, then? Are you two together?”

“That is none of your business.”

“No,” he agreed. “I just didn’t peg you for someone who would throw away a great opportunity for the chance to jump in bed with a rookie.”

My jaw nearly hit the floor of the cab.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just telling you to be careful.”

“Be careful,” I repeated. I actually could not believe the audacity of this man.

“Look, I understand how guys like him tick. I also know you’ve worked your ass off to get where you are.”

“Don’t act like you know anything about me anymore,” I spat.

“I just don’t want you to jeopardize your career because he’s spinning all the right webs and saying all the right things.”

“Oh, the way you did?”

The words popped out of me so quick, I didn’t have time to think about whether I actually wanted to say them or not. What I should have done was hang up. But instead, I was starting a fight like I wanted it, like I still cared about him and what happened between us.

It felt like showing my hand.

It felt like losing.

And it made me grit my teeth so hard I nearly chipped one in the process.

“I loved you,” James said, his voice just above a whisper. “You know that.”

“No, I don’t,” I clipped, fuming. “Thanks for your concern, but it’s no longer needed. You were the one who exited my life, James, so at least have the decency to stay gone.”

I hung up before he could respond, immediately blocking his number just in case he tried to call back. Then, I threw my phone in my purse and let out a frustrated growl that turned into a high-pitched scream.

My driver eyed me in the rearview mirror, and I muttered an apology just as he pulled up to the skyscraper I was calling home for the month. I tipped him graciously before kicking the door open and lugging my bag out of the trunk, dragging it behind me like it was a weapon, and I was going into a street fight.

I stewed the entire way up the elevator, flinging my bag into the foyer once I’d made it to the condo. I nearly cried at the sight of the place — all the furniture and art and appliances that weren’t mine. Everything was modern and expensive and cold, nothing like my bungalow that was just a twenty-minute walk from the beach, and tears pricked my eyes before anger washed them away again.

I roared, kicking off my shoes and pacing as I dragged my hands over my hair. I was so fucking pissed — at my parents, at James, at Vince, at myself. One night. One stupid photo and everything was blown to shit.

And I knew in that moment what I should have done.

I should have gone for a walk. I should have gone to the beach. I should have rolled out my yoga mat and found poses to ground myself. I should have meditated. I should have called Livia.

I should have done a million other things.

But what I actually did was pick up my phone and open Instagram.

Because I didn’t want to calm down.

I wanted to rage.

I wanted payback.

And I didn’t stop to think about the repercussions until it was too late.





Such a Little Brat



Vince



Coach McCabe looked ready to blow a gasket.

He reminded me a little of my father in that moment, the way my dad would hold in his anger until he could go to the gym or get out on the boat. He never wanted us kids to see it or be on the receiving end of it. I loved and admired him for that, how he could bottle it up and find the proper release.

Coach, on the other hand, was ready to unleash — and I was his target.

“Look, it’s not a huge deal,” Dick said, my general manager much calmer than the red-faced man standing against his office window. Coach could barely look at me without seething. “It pulled in some good publicity for you and for the team, and it was a kind thing to do. But—”