Dirty Score, A Rough Riders Hockey Novel(28)

But Rafe would never have told Tate about him and Mia. Rafe cared too much about Tate’s friendship and Joe’s respect. Rafe cared too much about his teammates and their relationship and getting his team to the Cup.

Rafe cared about everyone and everything before himself. So that black eye hadn’t come from Tate, because that would have meant he’d wanted Mia enough to risk Tate’s fury, Joe’s disappointment, and his team’s position in the standings.

And one thing Mia had learned for sure over the last year was that while she knew Rafe cared about her, she also knew with equal certainty Rafe would never put her first.

Yeah, she should go to the bar. Stay until Rafe got there. Let him see her unfazed by the puck bunnies hanging all over him. Unbothered by the way he turned back into the playboy he’d been since he hit puberty.

Once she and Eden hit the street and cleared the crowd, Mia’s gaze landed on Top Shelf’s front door. The sight of the familiar postgame hot spot pounded Mia with a sense of loss so unexpected, all her ideas changed on a dime. She wasn’t ready to let go of their night or of Rafe. She wasn’t ready to let go of her friends or the family she’d developed within the Rough Riders. She wasn’t ready to let go of any of it. And her stomach flipped and rattled with nerves.

“Isn’t this weather gorgeous?” Eden said, referencing the perfect night. “God, I love spring in DC.”

“Eden,” she said, “I think I’m going to head back to Tate’s and finish cutting out the pattern for Faith’s dress.”

“Oh,” Eden complained and linked arms with Mia. “Just come for one drink. And about that dress… What would I have to do to get one?”

Mia pushed out a laugh, trying to pretend her heart hadn’t turned into one big knot.

“Really,” Eden said, squeezing Mia’s arm. “I need one way more than Faith. She’s got all kinds of cute dresses to wear to these dinners and parties. I, on the other hand, have worn a uniform every day for years. I only have a few cute things from several years ago, and I am the one hooking you up with Beckett’s mom and her sewing machine.” She gave Mia her sweetest smile. “Please?”

Mia smiled, but a piece of her heart broke off as they stepped into Top Shelf and the magnitude of all that she’d be losing in a week crashed down on her. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The Rough Riders’ favorite postgame haunt was crowded. And as soon as the guys got here, this place would go from crowded to crazy.

Mia took a deep breath and sucked up her reality. She’d made a choice to better her life by taking this job. When she didn’t think about what she was losing, Mia was excited about her future. Well, at least her professional future. And with the hours this new job would demand, that was really all her life would be about for the foreseeable future. Given what had happened with Rafe, that setup would work out best—because she couldn’t fathom wanting another man.

Mia and Eden found seats at the bar, and by the time she was sipping her wine, Mia had assured herself she could pretend for an hour. If it would settle her relationship with Rafe into a comfortable groove so she could leave on solid footing with him. Yeah, she could pretend.

Mia let her worries slip away while she enjoyed Eden’s tales of her new job with a local fire department. And by the time the team flooded in, Mia had convinced herself she could handle this.

The Rough Riders were greeted to applause and cheers and twittering DC urbanites. Young, beautiful women flocked to the guys for autographs and photos, most hoping to land one of the sexy hockey studs for a few hours, if not the night.

This was how Rafe was treated after every game. Eighty-two games a year. Not to mention the accolades they received during team, sponsor and charity events. Mia knew firsthand how hard these guys worked, so she knew they all deserved every bit of attention. But seeing those perfect, young puck bunnies dancing around the guys, all but offering themselves to whichever one would have them, instantly deflated the self-confidence Mia had drummed up to face Rafe.

She laughed softly at herself with a shake of her head. God, she’d been so stupid to think she could handle any of this on a level other than sister and friend.

“I know,” Eden said, misreading Mia’s humor. “If they only realized how desperate they looked.”

That was when Rafe walked through the door—in a charcoal suit, a crisp white shirt, and deep blue tie, loose at his neck. His hair was still wet, his jaw unshaven. While the door closed behind him, Rafe’s gaze scanned the bar, and when he found Mia, his gaze locked. But he didn’t smile.