I was into him. Really into him and it was going to suck when one of us had to walk away.

Those were worries for another day. All I was going to do was live in the moment and meet him as he leaned across the center console of his fancy-ass sports car for a kiss. A kiss that quickly had my blood heating and the interior of the car feeling smaller than it was. I liked it a lot when he wrapped his hand around the back of my head and scratched his nails along the scruff of my shaved head. This man understood what I liked and what was bound to make me react with a skill that shouldn’t be possible in the short time we had known each other.

When I pulled back, we were both breathing hard and his freckles were standing out against the flush on his cheeks. I liked that he was as affected by me as I was by him.

I cleared my throat and asked, “How was work?”

He backed the sports car out of the space in front of my building and replied like we weren’t breathing hard and suffocating in sexual tension. “Work was good. I took on a disabled vet that was injured by an IED a few years ago. Someone recommended me and I think I can really help him. He needs to learn how to use his prosthetics properly because he hasn’t been.”

“Wow. That’s a pretty big deal.” I knew that he was all about helping people and stopping them from hurting any way he could, but I didn’t realize how wide and deep that savior streak of his went. It was just as ingrained in him to help others as it was in me.

He shrugged. “Sometimes people that are injured become nothing more than their injuries. They end up defined by their limitations and what once was. I like to think I can show them there is always a new normal.” His light eyes shifted to me and a smile that was definitely laced with sadness flashed at me. “You’ve done a pretty spectacular job of adjusting to your new normal.”

My new normal was starting to revolve around him and having him in my life. “I couldn’t have done any of it without you. You know that.”

The car slipped through the downtown streets in a much more elegant and subdued way than my big truck attacked them. I wondered what he did when there was snow and ice on the ground. Sports cars were pretty and fun but totally impractical for four to five months out of the year in Denver.

“You have more determination than anyone I’ve ever met. You would have found your way to your new normal with or without me, Dom. I’m glad your journey brought us together, but you could have walked the path to recovery with anyone and ended up right where you want to be. Your fight to reach your destination has never wavered.”

I cleared my throat a little and looked out the window as the Pepsi Center and all the maroon and blue lights that lit it up for the game came into view.

“The destination may have stayed the same throughout but the path I’ve taken on my way there has plenty of room for detours and alternate routes.” I shifted my attention to the big domed building. “I’ve never seen a hockey game live before. I’m gonna have to force myself to stay in my seat and not jump on the ice to break up all those fights.” I grinned at him to let him know I was kidding, but he didn’t grin back. Instead, he ran his hands through his hair and I saw him having some kind of internal conversation with himself. Whatever he was saying must have worked, because he gave his head a shake and reached for the driver’s side door while looking at me over his shoulder.

“Are you a sports guy? I mean I assumed you were since you’re in such good shape and you accepted my offer to come to the game so fast, but you’ve never mentioned anything about any of the athletes that come in and out of the clinic.”

We walked towards the entrance shoulder to shoulder, my leather jacket rubbing against the arm of his wool peacoat as I contemplated his question. “I like sports. I played baseball when I was in high school, but that was more about my mom telling me I needed an activity than any real passion for the sport. I watch the Broncos play because my dad was a fan and I like football enough that I try and catch a game at the stadium at least once a year. Hockey is cool, but I don’t know enough to tell you players’ stats and rankings.” I shrugged. “I stay in shape because bad guys will take whatever advantage they have and use it against you. I try to stay smarter, stronger, and faster than most of the people running the streets.” I looked over at him. “What about you? You have an office filled with memorabilia and you said your dad was a recruiter but no pictures of you in a uniform.”

He shrugged, which rubbed our arms together. I wondered how that little, unintentional touch could fire up my blood more effectively than a full-on hand on my dick. It was him. There was just something about Orlando Frederick that did it for me on every single level.

“I was always a sports guy. Growing up in a house with my dad, I didn’t have much of a choice. But I loved it. I played soccer; I swam competitively, and I played lacrosse in college.” He laughed a little and turned to look at me with humor stamped all across his face. “I even tried rugby for a while, but I wasn’t built for it. You, on the other hand”—he lifted an eyebrow at me with a smirk—“you look like you were born to be in a scrum. If the whole law-enforcement thing doesn’t work out, that can be your backup plan.”

I think he was kidding but considering I knew how he felt about my job I wasn’t so sure. The image of that snapshot of him with his arm around the beautiful dark-haired boy dressed in a football uniform flashed behind my eyes.

“What about football? That not your cup of tea?” We sidestepped a couple arguing after I gave the guy a “watch yourself” look and lined up in the shortest line for the VIP ticket holders.

“I used to love football. It was my favorite sport. Right before I started college I had big plans to go into this field with the idea that I could be a team trainer. I had the connections thanks to my dad but …” He trailed off as we moved forward and handed our tickets to the guy in the yellow staff jacket manning the door. “Something happened and it soured my entire feeling for the game. I couldn’t get passionate about it anymore. I couldn’t stand to be on the field. Every time a player comes in with a shredded ACL or a broken clavicle and a season’s worth of closed head injuries it makes my skin hurt. All sports are brutal but the toll football takes on the body is insane.”

The noise inside the auditorium echoed and bounced as excited fans made their way from the entrance to their seats. I touched his elbow and Lando stopped and looked at me with lifted eyebrows. “So what happened?”