Page 11 of Breaking the Ice (Denver Stampede #6)

DANI

M y cheeks hurt from all the laughing and smiling through our date. Gabe was really… just… nice, not smooth or suspiciously charming. It felt like he was exactly who he said he was.

But I was still on edge and questioning everything. I didn’t want to be blinded again like I’d been with Roger. He’d definitely soured me. Even though I wasn’t going to date Gabe anyway, my judgment about men had obviously been on the fritz and who knew if it was back.

We’d gone through our twenty questions, and I’d discovered he had three sisters and was from Seattle.

He obviously loved dogs and his family, and he’d started skating when he could barely walk.

His list of goalie quirks and routines was extensive, but that was typical.

My father never really talked about his routines and rituals, but I’d watched him since before Mal was born until he’d retired, so I was very aware of weird goalies.

Of course, now his only current quirk was that he was an asshole on so many levels. He was still regularly texting me about dinner, but I had zero plans to do that.

“What are we getting for dessert?” Gabe asked.

“Definitely the olive oil cake with lemon curd.”

“Is there something else you’d recommend?” he asked. “What’s your second favorite?”

“Why? You don’t like lemon and want me to share dessert with you?”

He grinned. “I would never assume. No, I figure we can get your two favorites and then share them both.”

Was he for real? I sat back. “Oh, I like that plan. Why are you so nice?”

“What?” he asked, tilting his head back at me.

I waved my hand in front of him. “You’re just, well, not a dick.”

He barked out a laugh. “Uh, thanks for that. Also, how low are your standards?”

My body tensed.

“Sorry, that was rude of me.” His mouth did this little half-smile, like he felt guilty, and it was totally endearing. And it was throwing me off-balance.

“It was, but I do seem to have a history of picking the wrong guys to date lately, which is probably why I prefer being single.”

“There are nice guys out there, the opposite of Jensen.”

“I guess.” I paused to take a sip of my second glass of wine. He’d stuck to only one and then switched to club soda and lime.

“Can I interest you in dessert?” the waiter asked, saving me from having to continue our awkward conversation.

“Yes, thanks. The olive oil cake and the cannoli duo, please,” I said.

The waiter nodded and walked away, and I focused on Gabe again, hoping he wouldn’t continue the talk about my low standards. Hell, he was irritatingly correct, I did have awful taste these days. Probably stemmed from having a shitty father.

His fingers grazed mine and I startled.

“Sorry, I’m not trying to make you feel bad,” he said, pulling his hand away. I weirdly wanted to grab it back.

“No, it’s fine. You aren’t wrong.” My tone was bitter.

“But I could’ve said it in a kinder way or, like the old saying, not at all. You deserve better, and when this is over, I bet you find a guy that’s perfect for you.”

I snorted. “You’re a hopeless romantic, aren’t you?”

He shrugged and smiled. “I wouldn’t say that. Hopeful, more like.”

“So why are you single, then?”

He linked his fingers through mine and grinned. “Currently, I’m not.”

My heart did a flip in my chest.

“You know what I mean,” I said, trying to ignore my stupid heart.

“Hey, if this is going to work, we have to act like we’re really together,” he said, another one of those disarming grins thrown my way.

“But I’m usually single because it’s easier that way.

The season is chaotic, we’re constantly traveling and going to practice, and I want to focus on that.

On top of all that, I’ve only been in Denver for two years, and I typically go back to Seattle for the summer. Being single is just less of a hassle.”

“Makes sense. And speaking of, about time to take a pic for tonight? Roger commented on the last post. So pathetic, like I wouldn’t know it was him.”

He snorted. “You mean that ‘Kingofsaves’ guy? Yeah, I saw that.”

“Just so you know, you are so not a downgrade. He’s an idiot.”

“Correct on both counts.”

“Here you go,” the waiter interjected, putting both desserts down in front of us. “Enjoy.”

“This looks amazing.” He picked up his fork, a twinkle of humor in his eyes. “I get to try both, right?”

“I guess . I mean, I wasn’t going to eat all of them.” It was tempting. Seriously, they were both so good.

“How about I snap a pic of you and the desserts, and caption it ‘my girlfriend is sweeter than any dessert’?”

I pretended to gag.

He chuckled. “Too much?”

“Anyone who knows me would think you were full of shit.”

“I’ve kissed you. You’re very sweet.” He said it like he was stating an obvious fact.

I sucked in a breath and my dumb heart flipped again. This was all for show, and I would be smart to remember that.

“Gabe,” I murmured.

“Or we could both bite each end of one of the cannoli a la Lady and the Tramp .”

My gaze met his. He sounded calm, but his pupils were dilating. It was probably just the dim light in the restaurant.

Dammit. I wanted to kiss him again.

“No? Okay, then. Guess I’ll just post this pic that I snuck of you earlier.”

I sat up straight. “What picture?”

He scooted off his side of the booth and slid in next to me, holding his phone up. I was laughing, with my head slightly down and my fingers on the rim of my wineglass. I looked happy, and the tension I’d felt all night wasn’t visible in the image at all.

“You said you were looking for pictures of your dog to show me?”

Get out of your head, Dani.

“You were laughing at that story about my niece trying to braid my hair and you looked stunning. I wanted a picture.”

He turned toward me, so we were facing each other. Had his eyes darkened further?

I sucked in a breath. “Oh.”

“So, can I post that one?”

“Umm. Sure.” Then I immediately dug into the dessert to distract myself. This was fake and I’d do well to remember that.

Not that I really wanted to be dating anyone right now.

“Do I get a taste?” he asked and I almost dropped the fork.

“What?”

He gestured his fork toward my plate. I’d already polished off half of the cake, but to be fair, it wasn’t a large slice.

“Oh, yes. Of course.” I pushed the plate toward him and took a bite of the cannoli. A small moan escaped my lips. So freaking good. Blood orange cream with mini chocolate chips, one of my favorite flavor combos.

“You, uh, have a bit of cream.” He swiped at my nose with his finger, and tingles coursed through my body, my stomach tightening when he popped his finger in his mouth.

“Delicious,” he muttered, before clearing his throat. Then he slid out of the booth and went back to his own side.

The space was welcome and disappointing at the same time, which was completely ridiculous. And now I felt awkward and irritated at myself.

“You’re coming to the game tomorrow, right?” he asked, calm as ever, making me question if I was reading more into this than was really there.

“I probably should, huh?”

His mouth turned up in a half-smile. “You definitely should since you’re my girlfriend.”

“Do I have to wear your jersey?”

“It’s not mandatory, but I wouldn’t mind.”

“Purple really isn’t my color.” Why was I testing him? I looked fantastic in purple.

“You do know our team colors! Are you sure you’re not a fan?” he teased. “I don’t blame you, we’re a fun team. Much better than that other team you probably had to support.”

I grinned at his dig against the Blizzard.

“I don’t watch a lot of sports on TV, but if I did, I guess I’d pick baseball.” I bit back a snort as he smacked his hand on his chest. I actually hated baseball. So boring.

“Baseball cannot hold a candle to the joy of watching hockey.”

That twinkle in his eyes warmed up my entire body, but I just shrugged like I wasn’t affected.

“I’ll show you how much fun hockey is, I promise.”

I couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Fine, fine. I’ll come. But no jersey.”

“Can you at least wear the team colors or a Stampede hoodie? And I’ll have a family pass waiting for you at will call so you can go wherever you want.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Of course I do. You’re my girlfriend, remember? I got you two tickets right on the glass behind my net so you can watch the best player in action,” he boasted, that grin still firmly in place. He really was like a puppy.

I was strangely excited to go to the game tomorrow night and also anxious as hell. This would be our first time really in public together. I mean, we wouldn’t actually be together since he’d be on the ice and I’d be in the stands acting like the smitten girlfriend, but still.

I tried to shove that out of my mind and enjoy the rest of my dessert.

TUCKS

I focused on the small rubber ball bouncing off of the wall in front of me, one hand to the next, even breaths, never taking my eyes off of it.

It was part of my pre-game routine. I’d finished an easy jog on the treadmill an hour ago, made sure to eat my lightly seasoned veggies, chicken, and pasta, and completed all of my stretches twice.

We had ninety minutes until warm-ups and all of the guys were milling around, taping sticks and doing their own short rituals.

Consistency was important; it kept us focused and ready to go.

So I bounced the ball, catching it three times in my right hand, then three times in my left, then repeated that four more times.

“Soccer?” Dom asked when my ball hit my hand again. It was nice of him to wait for me to finish my circuit before interrupting me.

“I’m in.” I pocketed the ball and moved into the circle with six of my teammates as we kept the soccer ball from touching the ground, kicking it from one guy to the next, perfectly in sync. I wished that synchronization would translate to the ice, but it didn’t always.

Tonight was our final preseason game. Our opening night roster was almost complete and our first regular season game was in three days.