Page 10 of Breaking the Ice (Denver Stampede #6)

Was it weird to be nervous about a fake date? I tugged on my collar as I stood outside the restaurant and waited for Dani. Should I have picked up flowers or chocolates or something? I should’ve asked if she wanted me to pick her up, but she’d suggested to just meet here before I could even ask.

It’d been a while since I’d been on an actual date since I stuck to keeping things casual during the off-season and then focusing solely on hockey during the season.

I never wanted anything to distract me from my game, which was why this could end up messy, but there was no real doubt in my mind that I did the right thing by offering to help Dani.

My anger had lowered to a simmer over the last few hours, but I’d been overwhelmed with the urge to show up at Dani’s office and knock Jensen on his ass when she’d called me earlier.

The audacity of that fucking piece of shit.

Take a goddamn hint. Hear her fucking words.

She had clearly ended the relationship, and Jensen was being an absolute douchebag about it.

I took in a deep breath. I did not want to ruin our date by having my anger build all over again. Dani seemed like a nice woman. Hot as fuck and a bit prickly, but fun.

“Hi,” her voice said from behind me, and I turned to see her just steps away. She looked amazing. The green in her sundress made her eyes pop, and her auburn hair was brushed in waves over her shoulders. The dress hugged her body like I suddenly had the urge to. I clenched my fist at my side.

“You look stunning,” I said without thought.

Her cheeks tinged pink, making me want to lean in and kiss her. And it had nothing to do with for show.

Shit.

“Ah, thanks.” She smiled. “It’s my favorite and it has pockets.”

“Well, it’s very nice and pockets are always important.” My voice sounded stilted, and she paused, a small smile playing on her lips.

Yeah, I couldn’t wait to kiss her tonight.

For the ruse, of course. I forced back the snort that threatened to burst out of me.

“You look nice, too.” She wrinkled her nose. “This is weird.”

I linked my fingers with hers and she stiffened for a moment before relaxing slightly.

“This okay?”

“Of course. We’re dating, after all.” But she was still tense, and I wanted to help her relax a bit.

“Yes, we are.” I lifted our joined hands up like a fist pump. “And I have no idea why I did that.”

She shook her head at me, but I didn’t miss the tension still in that smile of hers.

If she couldn’t feel comfortable with me, this wasn’t going to work. And while I understood, a big part of me really wanted to make this work.

“Should we go in? I’ve actually never been here before,” I said.

“The fresh burrata is amazing. It has pesto and crispy prosciutto on top with grilled sourdough. So good,” she said.

“That sounds incredible.” I unlinked our fingers, putting my hand at the small of her back, and opened the door with my other hand. “After you.”

I felt a slight tremor under my touch, but I wasn’t sure if it was from her or me. Taking a steadying breath, I followed her into the dimly lit restaurant.

The place was quaint, with small tables scattered down the center and booths lining both walls. I gave the hostess my name and she led us to a booth in the back, near a window.

“Should we get a table so we can be more on display?” she murmured, but her tone said she did not want that at all.

“No, the booth is perfect.” I guided her toward one side and took the other, saying thank you to the hostess when she said our server would be along shortly.

“Thanks. I like booths so much better. Uh, should you sit next to me?”

“So we can make out?” I couldn’t resist teasing her, but the faint blush on her cheeks made me wish this was real so I could taste her lips again.

She rolled her eyes at me.

“Don’t worry. No making out. We’ll have a nice dinner, get to know each other, and take a picture or two. Maybe I’ll just post one of you that says best dinner date ever or something.”

“You’ve really thought this out.”

“Not at all. I’m winging it, but I guess I’m doing okay. I’ve really only perfected dog content to post on Pucks’s account.”

“Does it bother you that he has more followers than you?”

“Absolutely not. Have you seen how cute he is?”

She chuckled. “He’s pretty cute.”

“So, do we want to talk about your day? Hopefully it was decent, aside from the asshole showing up, of course.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. And yes, just long. Did you want wine? They have a few of my favorites.”

“I have morning skate early and then the game tomorrow night, so I’ll just have a glass of whatever you’re getting.

” I had no desire to talk about Jensen, but I needed to know if the man was just a menace or an actual threat.

However, the waiter came over to take our drink order before I could press her for more.

Dani ordered two glasses of a fancy-sounding wine and the burrata.

“Did you want something different?”

“Nope. Everything sounds good to me, and you’ve been here before, so I’ll trust your selections.”

She smiled, her eyes softening, and I wondered if Jensen had ever deferred to her. But from what I’d gathered already, that was doubtful. That man truly was an asshole on multiple levels.

The waiter walked off, and I watched Dani take a sip of water. She was stalling.

“So, want to talk about today?”

“Not really. Work was mostly uneventful, not that I can give you too much information because of client confidentiality, and I really don’t want to talk about Roger right now. Let’s not ruin our meal.”

I nodded. “Fine, but if he shows up again, please let me know. I want to help. The asshole has no right disrupting your life.”

She snorted. “No kidding, but someone should probably tell him that. And I have, repeatedly.”

“I’m serious though. If you ever need anything, just call me.”

“Thanks. So, you golfed today?” She was deflecting again, but I’d let her for now.

“If you want to call it that.” I chuckled. “I’m terrible at golf unless it’s mini golf. I kill it with those little ramps and trick shots. Regular golf is just boring, but at least I had Pucks with me for extra entertainment.”

“Your dog? He’s allowed on the course?”

“Yeah, you can bring dogs to some courses. At one point, I was sort of hoping Pucks would walk by and just knock my ball in.”

She laughed softly. “Pretty sure that’s cheating. So why play if you don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it, I’m just not that good. A few of the guys needed a fourth and I had the time. Plus, it’s good bonding to hang out with them outside of hockey since I don’t really get to do that on the ice.”

“What? That doesn’t make sense to me. After all, you’re all out there together.”

“Yeah, it’s just that goalies play a different game than the rest of the guys. We spend more time talking to our goalposts than our teammates. I mean, if the team is good, they hopefully spend more time down at the other goalie’s net.”

“Makes sense.”

“You didn’t talk about this with Jensen? How long did you date him anyway? During the season?”

“We were together for maybe four months? A little over four months, starting back in early April. I went to a few games, but I never really thought to ask and he mostly loved to talk about his stats anyway.”

Figured.

“We don’t have to get into nitty-gritty details. I know that probably talk about hockey too much.”

“I mean, it is your job.”

“True. And you can’t talk about yours,” I said.

“Do you like filling in the silence or something?”

I kind of liked her snark. “A silent first date is an unsuccessful date,” I deadpanned.

“Oh look, the wine is here.” The waiter had arrived at our table with two glasses, and I tamped down a grin.

“Ready to order?” he asked after Dani took her first sip.

“Give us a few, thanks.”

“You don’t already know what you want?” I asked when the waiter stepped away.

“Oh, I’m getting the butternut squash agnolotti. It’s delicious. I just wanted to make sure you had a chance to look over the menu.”

“What else do you recommend?” She pointed out a few other items and when the waiter returned, I went with the elk Bolognese.

“So now what?” she asked.

I tilted my head in question. She fidgeted with her wineglass, tapping the base of the glass and the stem before picking it up.

“How are we doing this dating thing?”

I chuckled. “You’ve been dating someone more recently than I have.”

She gave me a pointed stare.

“We could play twenty questions. What’s your favorite color? Mine is orange.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Orange? Who picks orange as a favorite color?”

“It’s vibrant and fun. Is yours black? Or maybe pink. Yeah, I could see you in pink.”

“Hard pass. I look terrible in pink with my hair.”

“I’m teasing. We need to have fun with this or it won’t be believable.”

She sighed audibly and I ignored how her breasts perfectly filled out the top of her dress. Would she turn pink if I kissed her at the base of her throat? Would her pulse flutter under my lips?

My cock started to harden and I was glad to be sitting across from her. Odds were she would not take kindly to me getting turned on while teasing her, but dammit, she needed to have more fun.

“Fine. Uh, dog or cat?” she asked. “No, I already know. Pucks and Tucks.”

“Did you look us up? And it’s Tucks and Pucks.” But I knew she had because she’d liked a few of the posts. One was at least six months old and it was a good sign that she’d scrolled through them.

“Figured I should since he’s your dog. And of course he’s a golden,” she said flippantly.

“Well, duh. They’re the best. I got him as a puppy shortly before our family dog, Max, passed away at thirteen.

Pucks stayed with my family for my first two seasons here, but I brought him with me when I came back in August. I missed him too much.

Josie, a teammate’s girlfriend, has started taking him on walks and checking up on him during away trips.

” I paused. “We should definitely do a video or two with you hanging out with us. He’ll love you. Are you a dog person?”

“They’re okay, but I prefer cats.”

Of course. “Cats aren’t as affectionate, and they’re very opinionated.”

She gasped. “They are not. They just know what they like and what they want to do. So stereotypical to assume all cats aren’t affectionate. I’ll have you know, Maisie is the perfect mix of independent and loving.”

When the waiter dropped off our burrata, she pulled the plate closer to her. “And just for that, I’ll enjoy this deliciousness all by myself.”

I laughed and snagged a piece of crispy prosciutto to pop into my mouth. She covered the plate with her hand and gave me an arched glare.

“You know, I did share my fries with you the other night.”

“So maybe you’re just that much nicer than me,” she responded, cutting a piece of the cheese and spreading it on a piece of grilled sourdough, before taking a bite. Then she groaned. “Wow, this is delicious.”

Her soft groan made my stomach clench. How long would I have to wait before I could kiss her again?