Steel & Ice
Authors: Emily Eck
Tags: #romance, #erotic, #personal growth, #motorcycles, #gritty, #strong heroine
Steel & Ice
Published by Emily Eck at Smashwords
Copyright 2014 Emily Eck
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to
other people. If you would like to share this book with another
person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If
you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not
purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com
and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work
of this author.
Table of Contents
This book is dedicated to
:
Hector F. Castro
03/02/1990 to 01/01/2011
RIP
You helped saved me.
I wish I could’ve saved you.
I have to give a shout out
to V. J. Chambers. You would not be reading this is it weren’t for
her and her book
Slow Burn
. My
love of Slow Burn’s heroine made me contact Chambers, and a mutual
love of the Buffster began our friendship. It was her encouragement
that got the ball rolling. I told her about my idea for this book,
and she told me to write it. I was all, “dude, I can’t write a
book” and she was all “sure you can!” She has been with me every
step of the way, and I couldn’t be more grateful. I have sent her
various emails with bullet pointed questions and she graciously
answered them all, even the grammar (especially the grammar!). So
thanks V. If you fell off the face of the earth, you would be
dearly missed.
Elena. You devour romances. Thanks for
devouring mine. Thanks for kicking J up a notch, for his awesome
tat, and for telling me, “I feel like I could work at Applebee’s.”
I guess I forgot I wasn’t training someone to run the grill. Old
habits die hard. You were the first person I have met in the real
world that I showed this book to.
To Lisagh. Not only did your edits rock, but
your positive comments made me fell all warm and fuzzy inside. As a
first time writer, I thought various times, “aw crap, do I suck?”
Your positive feedback on the stuff you liked helped me push though
to start writing another book. I will also forever be indebted to
you for teaching me all about the wonderful world of the COMMA.
Look for her book to be coming soon. I’ll be posting the link on my
Facebook page soon.
Mariana. What can I say? You’re the greatest
BFF because you introduced me not only to the e-reader, but to
Gideon. Ah, Gideon. Your words, “I just couldn’t get enough of
Gideon,” were what made me the e-reader/romance-aholic/book
devourer that I am today. It’s also what got me thinking of my own
romance ideas that turned into Steel & Ice. Thanks, girl. I’d
take a bullet for you.
You will find the non-word “cuz” a lot in this book. I use it
in dialogue. In other books, I’ve seen ‘cos and cause. Neither of
those words resonated with me. But cuz did. So I rolled with it.
Just lettin’ you know that I am aware it’s not a word.
Chapter
1
“
Come on, Elle. Come out for
just for one beer. It’s Checks. It’s only gonna be bikers, rockers,
and general degenerates. I know you prefer the hip hoppers, but
come to the other side tonight.”
“
Hip hopppers Larry? For
real?” The other cooks in the kitchen knew I went to the hip hop
club, Eight Oh Eight, every Saturday. “I know some rock. Neil
Young. The Eagles. Pink Floyd.”
“
That’s classic rock,
Elle.”
Damn. What else could I come up with? “Pearl
Jam. Alice in Chains. Nirvana.”
“
Elle! The 90s are over and
this ain’t Seattle! Name me one modern rock band, or else smoke me
out with the sticky icky icky.”
Fuck, he had me. I tried to
stay up on current rock because I knew most of the guys in the
kitchen listened to it. I knew Metallica no longer counted as
modern, so I didn’t even bother mentioning them. I’m sure it
would’ve given Larry a good laugh though. We’d just finished a
typical Friday night in the kitchen at Applebee’s. Kevin, one of my
managers with a serious case of Napoleon Complex, asked me for the
same piece of chicken ten times. Jesse, my fry cook, forgot to drop
fish sticks into the fryers various times, only realizing when I
strolled over and dropped them in the hot grease, giving him
the
get it together
look. Larry cooked a bazillion steaks. And as usual, I stroked
the egos of five men in order to get the food to the customer
without a riot ensuing.
“
Fuckin’ A Larry. One drink,
one bowl.”
“
Jesse is going too. Cool if
I ride with you so we can smoke that bowl without him, and he can
take me back to my car?”
“
Damn. Larry Larry don’t
wanna share-y,” I teased. “You know it’s cool. It’s only a half
mile away so I’ll tell Jesse we’re gonna hit up the gas station for
smokes, and we’ll meet him there. It’ll buy us more
time.”
“
I’ll see you there, Jesse.
Gonna grab some smokes,” I yelled, as Larry and I quickly ducked
out the back door of the kitchen. We jogged to my Monte Carlo, and
got in before anyone noticed our quick exit.
“
Pack it,” I said, passing
Larry my sack of nuggs and my bowl.
“
Nice bowl. Is it new?”
Larry asked, in reference to the pipe.
“
Yeah, the last guy I got
nuggs off of was this crazy hippy dude who blew glass on the side.
I bought it off him for $10.”
“
That’s cheap Elle. I’m
assuming you weren’t in your work clothes,” Larry said with a
smirk.
“
I was testing a theory,” I
replied.
“
What theory was
that?”
“
How cheap I could get some
good ass weed if I did my hair, put on some makeup, and maaaaaybe
showed just a weeeee bit of cleavage.”
Larry doubled over laughing. “And how did
that go?”
“
Well, I got this bowl for
$10 bucks and a $100 sack of nuggs for $75. Whatdaya think?” I
asked, shooting Larry a wry grin.
“
Fuckin’ women and your damn
wiles.”
“
I don’t feel like I have
many wiles tonight,” I said, motioning to my greasy work
clothes.
“
Oh, Elle, you know it’s not
the clothes, the makeup or the cleavage. It’s your golden eyes, all
that curly hair you shove under your hat, your long legs and curvy
hips. You know you’re quite the package, especially with your
naughty librarian glasses,” Larry crooned, shoving his hands
through his hair, and putting his hat on backwards. He was good
looking for thirty, but rough around the edges. And not in a sexy
bad ass way. It was more in a
I haven’t
bought clothes since the late 90s, but it’s OK because concert T’s
never go out of style
sort of way. However,
he had the eyes. Those big baby blues that overshadowed his
questionable style. I’d looked into them enough times to be
unfazed, but I’d seen girls get lost in his pools of cerulean
plenty of times. I’m sure the blues, and the fact that he was quick
with a compliment were what got him laid. He had a few girlfriends
in the time I knew him, but they never stuck around and I never
took the time to figure out why.
I teased Larry, and he teased me in our many
years of cooking together. I knew him better than the rest of the
guys, but I was suddenly uncomfortable with his serious comments.
There was no smirk or teasing in his voice, and he had the blues
trained on me with a look of intensity that left me feeling like it
was time for this conversation to be over.
“
OK, time to go.” I put the
car in DRIVE and pulled out of the Applebee’s lot. “Puff puff pass
mutha fucka.” He did, and thankfully he went back to normal
conversation, talking about the night we just had and the new guy
flipping out.
We reached Checks with a nice buzz going.
There were a handful of motorcycles in the parking lot. This wasn’t
uncommon, but since Checks wasn’t a place I frequented, it
intrigued me. I had been to Checks a few times when I was underage,
but not since I became legal. I hadn’t notice much about the bar
when I was underage, as I was more focused on not getting caught.
Larry and I walked in, and spotted Jesse at the bar.
“
Damn, took ya’ll long
enough,” Jesse shouted to us as we strolled through the smattering
of tables.
I put my hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “Don’t
hate Jesse. Larry was busy getting the gas station attendant’s
number.” We never went to the gas station.
“
Daaaaaaaaamn. The one with
the green eyes and big ass titties?” Jesse asked Larry.
Larry slipped a sly grin to me, and shrugged
it off. “You order us beer yet or what?”
Jesse passed me a LaBatt’s, and an MGD to
Larry. At Eight Oh Eight, I usually drank vodka and something.
Vodka and OJ. Vodka and cranberry juice. Vodka and sprite. Vodka
and Hpnotiq if I was looking to get tore up quick. With the guys, I
usually drank beer, as they preferred the dive bars and pool halls
to the hip hop club. When I got drunk, all I wanted to do was
dance. Checks was not the place, and this sure as hell wasn’t the
time for dancing.
“
Thanks, Jesse. I’ll get you
next round.” Despite the fact that we had just spent the last seven
hours together, we always ended up rehashing the night’s events.
Most of the people who worked at the restaurant were either college
students, twenty-something’s trying to figure out what they were
going to do with their future, or what I called “lifers”, those who
would work in the restaurant industry their whole life. I used to
think I might be a lifer, but realized a few years back that I
didn’t want to be stuck in a hot ass kitchen with a bunch of rowdy
guys forever.
I’d been slowly taking college courses in an
attempt to figure out what else I could do with myself besides cook
for the next forty years. I hadn’t found the answer yet, but I
discovered I was good at Spanish. I even won the Spanish Student of
the Semester award from the foreign language department. Who
would’ve known? Me, the girl who failed her high school Spanish
classes. Of course, being high twenty-four seven in high school
didn’t help when trying to absorb a new language. Since having a
taste of the real world, I was serious about my college classes,
even if I only took two per semester. I was one hundred percent
sober for these Spanish classes, and it seemed to be working for
me. I was taking an Anthropology class next semester. It was
something my favorite Spanish professor had recommended. I’d give
it a shot. Anything to make a better life for myself.