Breaking the Ice by Esme Taylor

CHAPTER THREE

Hettie

Tears sprang to my eyes. I tried to wipe them away without my friends noticing, knowing they would try to make me feel better. “I hate all of them,” I huffed out as I threw the pile of clothes I’d brought with me onto the chair and flopped down onto Heather’s purple sofa, pulling one of her homemade cushions over my body in hopes of making myself disappear.

Looking over at my two friends, I felt a pinch of envy at how good they both looked. Heather was tall and thin with tiny pert breasts, which allowed her to look great in everything she wore. Even when her wild hair was completely out of control. Lou, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. While small, she was still taller than me. Her petite, toned figure was absolute perfection, which she dressed in her own unique look that she pulled off effortlessly.

Both women were so confident in themselves. The complete opposite of me. While still small, I had huge 34F breasts and far more hips and bum than I would have liked. Needless to say, finding clothes was nearly impossible. Nothing ever fit my out of proportion body. Yes, I had a waist, but I was also heavier than I would prefer to be. And I felt every pound of it.

My friends always assured me that I was beautiful, and they were constantly telling me how much they would love my curves. The problem is that when you’ve spent the last decade with someone who was supposed to love you, but instead told you daily that you should lose weight, or that you should want to make more of yourself, like I had, it was hard to hear anything else. Especially when I could look in the mirror and see every flaw staring back at me.

At first, I didn’t really notice it much. When we first met, my ex-husband worshiped me. But it changed. It started with small things and slowly built. It built until it morphed into daily insults about how I looked, how I dressed, what I looked like in makeup, and how I walked in heels. With every passing day, he chipped away at my self-confidence until I hated how I looked. And then, once he had broken me down, he chose to be with someone else.

I stared at the clothes I had brought with me, lost in thought. Turning my attention to the reflection in the mirror, I thought back to one of our last conversations before he left.

“If you'd lost weight and made a little more effort, I might have stayed. I might have chosen you over her. I told you, Hettie––I needed more. Really, everything that is happening right now is your fault. If you’d have just loved me more, maybe you would have changed for me. If you’d made an effort to lose weight, I could still love you. I just needed you to show me how much I meant to you. I needed you to fight harder for me.”

The sad part was that I actually listened to him. I believed that the reason my husband felt the need to find another woman was all my fault, and the key to keeping my marriage relied on changing myself. Over the following weeks, I starved myself and exercised constantly. In the end, I lost over twenty pounds in six weeks.

In my diluted mind, I thought it was exactly what I needed to do to make him love me again. The hard fact was that he’d already moved on. He’d moved in with his new woman and had forgotten all about me. Shaking my head, I cleared my mind and closed the door on that chapter of my life once again.

No more wallowing, Hettie. I refuse to give that man another second of my time, or one more piece of my broken heart. Tonight is about work and having fun with my friends. I want to look and feel differently. I want to be more than just ‘Hettie’.

I threw the pillow to the other side of the couch and wandered over to Lou, leaning my head on her shoulder. “Help me find something that doesn’t make me feel like a potato in a badly fitting dress,” I pleaded. “Can you work your makeover magic? I want to feel like a new me tonight. Please?”

A wide, mischievous smile spread across Lou’s face. She reached down and pulled a dress from the pile. She winked as she ushered me toward the bathroom. “This way, princess. Let the makeover begin.”

An hour and one bottle of white wine later, we were ready. I don’t think I’ve ever taken that long to get ready. But I had to admit, I looked good.

Lou had chosen a teal halter dress, which I would have never dared to wear before. Its ruched waistline perfectly accentuated my curvy hips, ending just above the knee. The bodice of the dress, which tied around the neck and revealed my fully exposed back was covered in tiny crystals that sparkled in the light. At that moment I had never been so thankful for those fancy backless bras. It certainly helped to keep the girls in their place.

As always, Lou knew precisely how to accessorize, pairing the dress with a pair of silver four-inch heels, a matching clutch, and several silver bracelets. Although the best part about the entire outfit… it had pockets! I mean, who doesn’t love a dress with pockets?

The finishing touch to my look was my hair.

My hair was so thick, which meant I couldn’t really do much with it other than straighten it or tie it up in a simple ponytail or messy bun. Yet, somehow, Lou managed to create two French plaits on either side of my head, wrapping them together at the nape of my neck so that they formed one thick plait that hung over my left shoulder. It looked like I had a crown on my head, rounding out my outfit perfectly.

Lou knew I’m not normally a big lover of makeup, so she kept it light, but fresh enough that I felt like I’d had the full ‘Lou’ treatment. She’d added just a touch of color to my eyes, finished with her famous eye liner flick to make my eyes look bigger than normal. To finish out the look, Lou added a rich red gloss that made my lips look much fuller.

I smiled as I took in my friends’ reflections as I checked myself out in the mirror. What I saw staring back at me was so different to my usual look and I loved  it. For the first time in a long time, I felt confident in my own skin.

“Thank you. I feel like a––”

Before I could finish, I was interrupted by the taxi driver honking his horn to let us know he was waiting outside. Squealing in excitement, we grabbed our purses and headed outside to the waiting car to begin our evening.

◆◆◆

When we arrived, the hotel looked incredible. A red carpet stretched from the front door and down the stairs to where the taxi had pulled up to let us out. As we stepped through the front doors, music could be heard playing in another area of the hotel. Excited, we all moved in the direction of the sound, my heels clicking across the marble floor. Fingers crossed, I took a deep breath and prayed I didn’t slip and fall.

We pushed through the heavy oak doors and step into the ballroom. Inside, a four-piece band played next to the dance floor, which was free of dancers. Clearly, no one was drunk enough yet to be the first on the dance floor. Across the room, tables were dressed with white linens and silver trays, which showcased Max’s delicious-looking food. Everywhere you looked, impeccably dressed waiters circled the room making sure those in attendance didn’t need anything.

Like any good party, the fully stocked bar was a favorite. Running from one side of the room to the other, attendees were jam-packed together, drinking the night away. I mean, what do you expect when you get a full bar included in your ticket price. I knew it would make for a very messy evening. Especially given how loud and animated many of the guests appeared to be already.

Linen-covered tables were scattered around the room. Decorated with tall flower displays, surrounded by dozens of tea lights, the room was filled with a light, sweet scent. Dimmed chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, and added with the tea lights, gave the room a majestic, romantic glow befitting one of my unfinished romance novels.

“Drink?” Heather shouted over the band.

“I’m okay for now, thanks. I best go and do my job before I hit the hard stuff. Meet you back here at nine?” Heather and Lou gave me a quick hug before heading off to join the crowd at the bar.

I took a deep breath and nervously smoothed down my dress. Pulling out my notebook, I quickly made a few notes about the room decor, the band, the food, and the guest list of people I’d seen since my arrival. I wandered around the room making small talk and asking people questions about the evening and the charity it would be donating to.

Forty-five minutes later, I had gathered everything I needed. More than enough to write my story for next week. I was completely exhausted and was more than ready to get a drink and some fresh air before meeting my friends. My shoes were pinching, my feet throbbing, and my mouth was dry from the wine we’d drunk earlier in the evening.

Spotting a small gap in the crowd at the bar, I grabbed a bottle of water from the tall, handsome barman and hurried through the busy ballroom, past the band, and out into the hotel’s courtyard where the faint sounds of Prince’s Purple Rain could be heard.

Once outside, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened them, I found myself staring at hundreds of twinkling fairy lights hanging from the rafters of a massive white tent. It was breathtakingly beautiful. The space was filled with round tables, which were surrounded by chairs and tall heaters to remove the chill from the air. It was perfect. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to sit down. Unfortunately, I knew that if I did that, I would also kick off my shoes. And if that happened, I wouldn’t ever want to put them back on again.

Heels are definitely torture devices created to make us look amazing and feel awful afterward. Give me my Converse or my Doc Martins any day over this, I thought as I stared at my aching feet.

I sighed in defeat, wandering to the far back of the tent where the light was lower, looking out over the gardens. I took a sip from the bottle of water, placed the cap back on, and breathed in the fresh air with a contented sigh.

The moon and stars punctured the black night sky, and I couldn’t help but make a secret wish on them. It was something my dad always did with me when I was little. He’d often take me outside and tell me to choose the brightest star. When I had done that, he would lean down and whisper in my ear, “Make a wish, little one. If you wish hard enough, it will come true.”

And tonight was no different.

Standing in silence, I could almost hear my father’s voice whispering to me once again. I closed my eyes and savored the moment as I wished I had the courage to live my life and not hide behind my past. It was time I stop using it as an excuse not to at least try.

Suddenly, the air shifted and the calmness that was there a moment ago felt as though it had been supercharged with electricity. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as goosebumps flooded my skin. Before I could turn to see what could have caused my body's unusual reaction, a warm hand gently pressed into the small of my back, a thumb stroking my exposed skin.

I gasped, both in shock and fear. I was just about to turn and address the owner of the hand when a familiar feeling washed over me.

The Viking.

I felt him lean him, his warm breath kissing my ear as his stubble brushed against my neck. I did my best to stifle the groan that tried to escape.

“You’ll be glad to know there was no permanent damage,” he whispered, his low, deep voice vibrating through my body.

Although his hand was the only part of him touching me, I could feel my nipples hardening in a silent reply. The energy emanating from his body surrounded me in a blanket of seduction.

When I spun around, I found myself face-to-face with his strong, muscular chest. I leaned back slightly in hopes of getting a clearer view of the giant man standing in front of me, but found myself wobbling unsteadily in my unfamiliar heels. Before I could fall face first into him, his hand slid down to my elbow, steadying me. With so little space between us, it gave me the perfect opportunity to take him in again.

My breath hitched the moment I saw those same icy blue eyes staring at me. Unlike the first time I’d seen him, his hair was tied back, giving me a clear, raw, and completely exposed view of his face. He was magnificent. Dressed in a dark blue suit and a white button-down shirt with the top two buttons open, his frame towered over me. And just like when I’d first seen him, his jaw was still clenched tightly.

I wonder what it would take to make him smile?

I would have never guessed he could be any more handsome than when I first saw him. But, seeing him tonight far surpassed the memory I had been replaying in my mind since we met. His sheer size, the focus of his stare, and the way his body made me react from barely even touching me. He made me feel as if I were the only person in the room with him.

This impossibly perfect man––the Viking––was standing in front of me, his eyes focused solely on….

Me.

For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine what it would be like to touch him. Running my fingers over the scruff on his face, allowing my hand to move down his chest, before unbuttoning those perfectly fitted trousers and exploring what lay beneath them. Heat rose in my body, despite the cool evening temperatures. Unable to break eye contact, I bit my bottom lip while my mind raced with thoughts of what I wanted to do to him, when it should have been focused on what to say back to him.

“I’m so sorry about that. You left before I had a chance to apologize properly. I’m just––I’m really clumsy. Honestly, I’m a danger to myself and everyone around me. I really shouldn’t be allowed out in public without adult supervision,” I spluttered.

Cool, Hettie, very cool, I thought to myself, attempting not to facepalm at my goofiness in front of this giant of a man.

“Like I said, no harm done, except to my work. Although, if I’m being honest, that may have been a blessing in disguise,” his voice rumbled, deep and low. I could feel every word vibrate through me, turning my legs to jelly.

“Perhaps I should be thanking you, Hettie.”

A smile spread across his luscious lips as he lifted his hand to my hair, running his fingers over where my thick plait touched my shoulder. I did my best to hide the shiver that ran down my spine, but from the look in his eyes I knew he sensed my reaction to his touch.

He ran his fingers slowly across my shoulder and down my arm. His touch was so light it almost felt surreal. If it weren’t for the bolts of electricity that shot through my body telling me his touch was definitely real, I would have never believed it.

His hand lingered for a moment, his fingers brushing against mine as he leaned in and whispered, “You look like a goddess tonight, Hettie. Your dress––” Before he could finish his sentence, he noticed a man I didn’t recognize walking towards us.

The moment their eyes met, the man gestured with his head toward the back of the main hall. My Viking––What the hell, Hettie? He’s not YOUR anything––The Viking nodded at the unknown man before turning his attention back to me, staring at me with those icy eyes once again. My heart raced as he leaned in close, so close I began to wonder if he was going to kiss me. Struggling to breathe, I found myself focusing on his delicious combination of whiskey and peppermint that invaded my senses.

“Until we meet again… Hettie.” He cupped my cheek with his hand, running his thumb over my lips as the moan I’d been trying to hold in escaped like a treacherous spy, spilling my secrets about how much his touch affected me.

Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, heart racing, and wondering what the hell had just happened. I couldn’t figure out why I felt like a naughty teenager who had just been caught doing something she shouldn’t, but I did.