Icing (Aces Hockey #1)(63)

She unfastened her seatbelt with shaky fingers and opened the door. “Yeah.” The door stuck a little and she had to lean into it with her shoulder. “I’m okay. I think. What happened?”

“The roads are slippery as hell. I slid into you. Sorry.”

Another man joined them, the driver of the car in front. “Everyone okay?”

They inspected the damage, then the guy from the front vehicle said, “We should move our cars out of traffic and exchange particulars.”

Only Amber’s car wouldn’t start. She sat there with one hand on the wheel and the other on her key, cursing.

“Won’t go?” one man asked. “Here, we’ll give you a push. Put it in neutral.”

She did so and helped steer with the stiff, powerless wheel as they pushed her to the side of the street.

“I have a job interview,” she said lamely. “I’m already running late. We need to be quick.”

“Sure.” They exchanged info and the two men disappeared.

Fuck! What was she going to do? She looked around for a taxi. Traffic was congested and slow, but there were no taxis to be seen. She had no idea where the closest bus route was or how to get where she needed to go.

Her cellphone buzzed. Frowning, she yanked it out of her purse. The display showed it was Duncan.

She sighed.

Good luck at your interview! Sorry this is late, you’re probably on your way already.

Her bottom lip quivered a bit. She could not feel sorry for herself. She caught her lip between her teeth and tapped back a message: Thanks.

Then she sighed. She still felt a little shaken up and there was no way she was going to get to her interview on time. She sat in her car and called the Human Resources department to tell them what had happened. “Is there a possibility of rescheduling?” she asked, knowing it was inexcusable to miss a job interview. Way to make a good first impression.

“We’ve got interviews fully booked this week,” the HR adviser said. “We may be in touch with you toward the end of the week though, if we haven’t filled the position.”

Crap. She wanted to throw her cellphone at the windshield. Crap, crap, crap.

She let her head fall back against the headrest and briefly closed her eyes. More curse words ran through her mind.

Then she found the insurance company’s number and called them. They said they’d arrange for a tow truck to come get it. She waited for it and watched it haul her poor bashed-up old Honda away. She blew out a breath. Now she had to find a way home.

Her smartphone helped her find a bus route and she walked the three blocks through blowing snow, sadly wearing the high-heeled boots she’d put on for her interview. Her feet were frozen and aching by the time she boarded a bus and didn’t warm up much before she got home.

She headed straight to the bathroom and started running a bath. She took off her suit, and though she wanted to just drop it on the floor, she carefully hung it and the silky blouse in her closet, ready for her next interview. Whenever that would be.

Amber detoured to the kitchen for a big glass of wine. She paused before putting the bottle back in the fridge, shrugged, and carried it into the bathroom too, along with a magazine. The hot water felt delicious as she submerged herself in it. She added a big dump of scented bath salts, the expensive ones that she carefully rationed out, then swished the water around to dissolve them. The scent of ylang ylang rose on the steam surrounding her.

The heat gradually seeped into her body, thawing her frozen feet. She let out another tension-relieving sigh. It had been a crap day. Now she had no car and no job prospect. And she hadn’t seen Duncan in days.

Which really should be the least of her worries. She rolled her eyes at her ridiculous girlish thoughts.

She sipped wine and flipped through the magazine. How sex helps menstrual cramps.

Huh. That might be good to know. She didn’t have horrible cramps, but still, they weren’t fun. She skimmed through the article. Endorphins…made sense.

She paged through advertisements to an article about sex positions. Athletic sex positions. Heh. That definitely made her think of Duncan. She squinted at one picture. Was that even physically possible?

She sipped more wine.

She lounged there for a long time. She heard Easton come home. A while later, he banged on the door. “What are you doing in there?”

“Having a bath.”

“Oh. Okay.”

She finished her magazine and tossed it to the floor. Leaning her head back, she tipped the last of the second glass of wine into her mouth. She heard the security buzzer and the door opening and closing, then male voices. Probably Jamie.

It was so nice that Easton had someone. Jamie seemed like a good guy, and damn, he was hot.