Steele (Arizona Vengeance 9)

Before heading to my toolbox, I see a bunch of cardboard boxes stacked in the garage, a byproduct of Ella ordering most of our household needs from Amazon. It had always been my job to break them down to fit in the large recycle bin but there has to be several weeks of boxes sitting out here. No wonder her Escalade is in the driveway, as no way it can fit in here.

I take a few extra minutes to nab the boxcutter from my toolbox and make short work of the boxes, stacking them neatly in one corner so Ella can get her car in the garage.

After, I grab an adjustable wrench before returning to the kitchen. Silently, Ella scrolls through Facebook, and I roll up my sleeves—metaphorically—to get the job done. After pulling out all the cleaning supplies kept in the cabinet under the sink and turning off the main water source, I kneel on the tiled floor and get to work. I don’t bother telling her I handled the boxes for her; she’ll figure it out soon enough.

I let the silence carry on for a bit while I uncouple the pipe at the disposal drain before asking, “So… are you still seeing Mr. Ordinary?”

My back is to Ella, but I can hear her whip around in her chair. “Mr. Ordinary?”

Her tone is defensive, not inquisitive, so she knows exactly who I’m talking about. But I humor her. “Yeah… the dude you were with at the food festival.”

“He has a name,” she snaps, and I hear the scrape of her chair against the tile, then the padding of her bare feet as she marches over to stand beside me. I glance at her pretty red toenails, forcing myself not to look at her legs, and concentrate on affixing the adjustable wrench to the coupling.

“Who has a name?” I ask facetiously, hiding a smirk.

“Mr. Ordinary,” she replies, but then curses.

“Aha,” I exclaim. Tilting my head, I shoot her a smile. “You agree then… he’s ordinary.”

She’s not amused, as evidenced by the flash of fire in her eyes. Through gritted teeth, she says, “His name is David.”

“Sounds ordinary,” I reply, turning my attention to the drain.

“Sort of like Jim?” she inquires sweetly.

I don’t even look at her as I mutter, “Touché.”

My first name is James, I go by Jim, but most people in the hockey community call me Steele, which is my last name. I suppose when “Jim” is stacked up against “Steele,” it could be considered ordinary.

When I glance up, she has leaned her hip against the counter, arms crossed over her chest as she glares at me. Christ, she’s stunning. “So, are you still seeing Mr. Ordinary?”

This time, she smirks, lifting her chin. “I am, but I’m not sure why you even care to ask.”

I don’t answer her right away. Instead, I put torque to the wrench and with a mighty push, I get the joint to release. Holding up a hand, I ask, “Can you hand me a few towels?”

Ella turns, opens a drawer, and pulls out two kitchen towels. I nab them, put them under the joint, and start to unscrew it. The short pipe pops easily from the disposal unit, and I pull it out to inspect it.

Completely clogged with God knows what. I suspect Lucy may have tried to shove something too big in there, but I don’t say it out loud.

Instead, I reply to her question. “I told you I want a shot at winning you back. I’m not afraid to go head to head with Mr. Ordinary.”

I stand, lean over the sink, and examine the clogged pipe.

“Funny,” Ella says smugly. “That was almost two weeks ago when you made that assertion. I just assumed you’d given up.”

My body locks tight as I consider that maybe I’d waited a little too long to make my move. I knew I was taking a risk not coming after her immediately. I realized it could piss her off or make me seem disingenuous.

But I didn’t want to come on too strong either. Ella knows me inside and out, and she knows what a bulldog I can be when I want something. I go after it, and she would expect that. My thought was I’d keep her off balance by doing the exact opposite of what she expected to keep her guessing and to make it more interesting.

I didn’t make the decision lightly. It’s not a game with me. The real risk was that while I was easing very slowly back into her life, her relationship with Mr. Ordinary would potentially progress too far.

Ultimately, though, I went on gut instinct because I knew Ella inside and out, too. If she thought for just a fraction of a second there was a chance we could work our marriage out, she wasn’t going to fall into bed with someone. Her heart was too pure and loyal.