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“Do you have a car?” she asked, pulling out her phone. “Because if not, we’ll have to RideOrder.”

Mine was at the rink, and we could easily walk there, but she’d yet to show any signs of knowing who the hell I was, and part of me really liked that I got to be a nobody for once. It was the closest I’d felt to myself in a long time.

“Sorry, no car,” I said, only half-lying. “Came with some buddies.”

She nodded and opened the rideshare app. “Should be here in a few minutes. I’ll let you pay for half the ride,” she added with a sly grin. “I’m not that into my independence.”

God, her bright smile and how her warm brown eyes seemed to twinkle from within had my head spinning. I wanted to chalk up my reactions to the months of celibacy and the fact that I hadn’t talked to a new woman in years.

Emma was my college sweetheart. We’d met our freshman year after a hockey game, and the rest was history—or so I’d thought. The months apart had given me a new perspective on our relationship. Looking back, I wasn’t sure I’d ever been in love with her.

And deep down, I knew she’d never been in love with me.

I’d been so determined to be a good partner, to show up and be everything someone needed, it never even crossed my mind that she might walk away.

That I wouldn’t be enough.

But then, around four months before, a nearly six-year relationship had ended with a note saying she needed a break.

A silver Corolla pulled up to the curb, but I was too lost in thought to reach for the door.

“Hah.” Ari shot me a look of victory. “After you, sir.”

She dipped into an exaggerated bow, giving me an eyeful of cleavage in the process.

Maybe not always being a gentleman had its perks. Very, very perky perks.

“Quit staring at my boobs and get in, Dalton.”

I grinned and folded myself into the tiny car.

“If you’d let me open the door,” I muttered as she slid in next to me, “we wouldn’t have had that problem.”

“No, but then you’d be staring at my ass,” she quipped, slamming the door shut behind her.

She was so different from my ex, who’d preferred to be catered to, never wanting to pay for a single thing. Hell, I’d footed the bill for lunches I hadn’t even been invited to. Emma had loved being taken care of—she’d never once held a door for me, asked what I needed, or offered to split the burden.

Ari, on the other hand, seemed allergic to the idea of letting me take that sort of initiative. She wouldn’t even let me open a door without a fight.

And, for reasons I couldn’t fully explain, I liked her even more because of it.

This couldn’t be the only time.

My pulse kicked hard at the realization, and I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be the only night I’d get with Ari.

SIX

ARIELLA

WE WANT MEN VOCAL IN BED…AND QUIET EVERYWHERE ELSE

This guy was full of surprises, and I couldn’t quite get a read on him. He was polite and respectful—hell, I could still feel the heat of his hand on my lower back from when he’d moved me away from the edge of the sidewalk as we walked up to my favorite place. I was pretty sure he hadn’t even thought about it…being a gentleman came naturally to him.

Now we were seated at a table at what had quickly become my favorite restaurant in Dallas, and Dalton leaned in, his elbows resting on the table. “So, what’s the ‘usual’ that you’re feeding me?” He looked at me with more trust than anyone I’d only known a few hours should.

“We’re getting a night-out essential… chilaquiles,” I announced with both hands raised. It earned me a chuckle from him, and for some reason, it made my heart feel lighter.

He leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, giving me his undivided attention. But not in a way that was suffocating, just…present.