Steele (Arizona Vengeance 9)

“Of course I would,” I exclaim. “I would never string you along, nor would I do that to Jim. All I know is I like you, too. And what you and I have is what I’m sure about in my mind. Yes, we might be going slow, but I just came out of a very unhappy situation. I’m not sure if Jim’s even serious about any of this, but I just wanted you to know what he proclaimed. I want to give you the opportunity to walk away from this because it’s not simple for me right now.”

Before responding, David takes my hand in his once again. “I respect your honesty, and it’s just another thing about you that I find myself drawn to. I might stick around a while to see where this goes.”

My face breaks into a wide smile. “That makes me happy.”

Which is the truth. A real truth, because David is a genuine guy whom I like a lot.

But the one thing I hold back from him is that, deep down inside, even if David and I progressed and Jim never followed through with his big words, I know I’ll never love anyone the way I loved Jim. And I have to wonder what type of disservice I would be doing to David by letting him fall for a woman like that.

I shake the thought off.

Nothing is serious with David at this point. We’re two people who like each other and have a good time. We’ve enjoyed some goodnight kisses that might have gotten a little deeper each time he bids me farewell at my door, but I’ve been upfront with him since we were set up on a blind date.

I’m not ready to get serious with anyone right now.

He assured me that he was fine with that, and I’ll have to take him at his word.

Squeezing his hand before I pull it away, I grab my fork and spear another tortellini covered in a light carbonara. I wave it playfully in the air. “Now, are you sure you don’t want to try a bite of this?”

Laughing, David leans forward. “Fine. Give me a damn bite.”CHAPTER 4SteeleThere are high fives all around as we trudge into the locker room on our skates. We beat the Edmonton Grizzlies in a hard-fought 2-1 win on the ice. My line was equally matched with their second line, and it felt like a battleground the entire time. My legs are shaky as I make my way to my cubby and sit on the bench to pull off my blade guards, followed by a quick unlacing of my skates.

I’m thinking about going to sit in an ice bath before I leave tonight since our team trainers stand at the ready to attend sore muscles, strains, and bruises.

I’m followed by my linemates, our cubbies all on the same row. Kane, our center, Jett right-winger, and Bain and Riggs defensemen. I’m the last part of the line, playing left wing.

The mood is high because we won, and most of the chatter revolves around reliving the glory plays tonight or scuffles some of the players got in. At one point, our team captain, Bishop Scott, walks over to give us personal congratulations. It’s been his routine since he assumed the captaincy last year.

“That was a sweet goal,” he compliments Kane. It was fed off a pass from Jett, so he turns to him and grins. “Just as sweet assist.”

Bishop moves off to the third line, and Kane shifts to me. “I swear I thought you had that goal in the third.”

“Clanged right off the fucking pipe,” Bain grumbles.

I shrug. I’ve been in the league for longer than most of these guys, and I don’t obsess over every missed goal anymore. I know I can’t make a hundred percent, but as long as I give a hundred and ten percent of my effort, I’m satisfied.

The shaking of my legs tells me I did.

“What are you guys doing tonight?” Jett asks. He’s the youngest on our line at twenty-five, and he’s always wanting to go out and party after a win. “Some Sneaky Saguaro?”

He’s referring to the restaurant/bar here in Phoenix that has become our unofficial hangout after games.

“I’m in,” Kane says as he removes a skate. “I bet Aaron is, too.”

“Why is that?” I ask curiously.

“Our women folk have decided to go camping tonight,” Kane replies with a grin.

Tipping my head back, I laugh. Leave it to Mollie and Clarke to do something like that, especially since Mollie is a travel blogger.

“I’m in,” Bain replies. He’s closer to Jett’s age, and they’ve been hanging out a lot lately.

As expected, Riggs doesn’t answer at all. He’s an intensely quiet man unless we’re out on the ice, and, so far, no one has been able to break the barrier with him. He’s not rude, just a little standoffish. He doesn’t engage in small talk, so you best believe if he says something, it’s probably important.