Page 55 of Ice Rebel

“You’re a bit of a playboy and I don’t blame you. Kind of jealous. Girls are not into reporters.” His laugh was sincere.

“Not really and trust me, you’re not missing anything. Puck bunnies are cool, but they believe the hype, you know? I’m not a hockey great. I’m just a one-woman kind of guy. Anyway, sorry to cut you off, but I should get going. A lot to do before heading out tomorrow.”

Grant nodded. “I get it. My uncle played hockey. He lost his battle to cancer recently. We were close.”

“I’m sorry, man.”

“A few years ago, he told me the moment hockey ceased to be a sport and turned into his passion was when he found the woman he was going to marry.”

“I can see that. Who knows. Maybe that’s what happened with me. There’s nothing like finding a woman who really gets you. Someone you can trust in just being yourself. Take care, Grant. I gotta run. Thanks for stopping by.”

“Anytime.”

As I jogged to my truck, Jagger finally pulled out of the parking lot. Nope. He and I would never be friends.

CHAPTER 13

Chelsea

“Try it again, Chelsea. And this time put some actual effort into your performance.”

Jasper Atello was a damn good teacher, but he was a solid twelve on the asshole scale from one to ten. Quick to criticize and almost never to compliment.

He’d still be in New York either dancing with the Joffrey Ballet or tormenting the students had he not been caught doing the nasty with the young daughter of one of the ballet’s board of directors. At least the girl had been eighteen, but only by a day and the accusations were that the affair had been going on for some time.

He bore the emotional scars by requiring his students to suffer for his indiscretions.

When he was in a particularly pissy mood, he chose one dancer and made that day a living hell. Today was my day, which wasn’t doing anything in boosting my self-confidence. Yes, I was distracted.

What woman wouldn’t be after spending almost an entire night with the hottest man in Seattle. And I still didn’t know his real name. What I did know was that every muscle in my body was stiff and sore, and this time, for all the wrong or maybe right reasons. Oh, this was a nightmare.

Apparently, I didn’t move quickly enough because Jasper smacked his hands together in a rapid release action that made me jump.

“Jesus,” I hissed before I could stop myself.

“Jesus isn’t going to help you with the fact when you land, instead of a mother bird landing on her eggs to protect them, you stomp them, bones and all, their little wings crushed.” Jasper was also more dramatic than anyone I’d met. He decided to emphasize my horrific form by slamming his foot onto the floor several times.

Every other dancer winced and moved further into the shadows, fearful they would be next on the chopping block.

I stood my ground, glaring at the man. He reminded me of my father, except my father would never be caught dead in leotards. But he was condescending, intelligent in his use of damaging words, and enjoyed watching those around him suffer.

Absolutely one hundred percent like my father.

Maybe my lack of sleep or the fact I’d had the best sex of my life was the reason, but I was finished with taking every critique as if gospel. “Maybe I crushed their little bones because they were deformed and deserved to die.”

Okay, I also had to admit that in unleashing the girl inside, she had a mouth on her that had been the strongest reason for every time I’d ever gotten into trouble. Including almost being tossed into jail after a simple traffic stop for a taillight being out.

The dance team gasped, although I heard at least one snicker, which didn’t please Jasper at all. If there was one thing he didn’t like, it was to have anyone one-up him on a single comment regarding dancing.

He was flustered, his face turning red and the glare could drill a hole into the earth and drive me inside. But I wasn’t ready to stop there. Oh, no. Why not just destroy my dancing career in one day?

“Wha… What?” Jasper threw out while still trying to recover.

“The dance moves you’ve suggested are clunky for that part of music. To come after a darkly passionate moment when the audience feels her pain, feels the loss of her child, and turn it into a jumbling mess of some weird joy so soon afterwards is… unacceptable. And stupid.”

Stupid. Of all the words in the English language I could have chosen, I picked stupid. By the sudden raging fire burning in the man’s eyes, it seemed that word alone had struck a nerve.

I had a terrible feeling he was about to toss me out. Where would that leave me with dear old Daddy and his demands?