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  PLAYING IT SAFE

  A York Bombers Hockey Novel

  Book 5

  Lisa B. Kamps

  PLAYING IT SAFE

  Copyright © 2018 by Elizabeth Belbot Kamps

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the express written permission of the author.

  The York Bombers™ is a fictional semi-professional ice hockey team, its name and logo created for the sole use of the author and covered under protection of trademark.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names, living or dead. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any individual, place, business, or event is purely coincidental.

  Photographer: CJC Photography

  http://www.cjc-photography.com

  Cover Model: Gideon Connelly

  https://www.instagram.com/gideoncon/

  Artwork and Cover Design by Jay Aheer of Simply Defined Art

  http://www.simplydefinedart.com/

  Proofreading by Cat Parisi of Cat’s Eye Proofing and Promos

  https://www.facebook.com/catseyeproofingpromos/

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Other titles by this author

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  CROSSING THE LINE preview

  ONCE BURNED preview

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Other titles by this author

  For Cindy and Joel.

  A match made in heaven!

  Other titles by this author:

  THE BALTIMORE BANNERS

  Crossing the Line, Book 1

  Game Over, Book 2

  Blue Ribbon Summer, Book 3

  Body Check, Book 4

  Break Away, Book 5

  Playmaker, A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella

  Delay of Game, Book 6

  Shoot Out, Book 7

  The Baltimore Banners: 1st Period Trilogy

  Books 1-3 Boxed set

  The Baltimore Banners: 2nd Period Trilogy

  Books 4-6 Boxed set

  On Thin Ice, Book 8

  Coach's Challenge, A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella

  One-Timer, Book 9

  Face Off, Book 10

  First Shot At Love, A Baltimore Banners Short Story

  Game Misconduct, Book 11

  Fighting To Score, Book 12

  Matching Penalties, Book 13

  THE YORK BOMBERS

  Playing The Game, Book 1

  Playing To Win, Book 2

  Playing For Keeps, Book 3

  Playing It Up, Book 4

  Playing It Safe, Book 5

  Playing For Love, Book 6

  Playing His Part, Book 7

  THE CHESAPEAKE BLADES

  Winning Hard, Book 1

  Loving Hard, Book 2

  Playing Hard, Book 3

  FIREHOUSE FOURTEEN

  Once Burned, Book 1

  Playing With Fire, Book 2

  Breaking Protocol, Book 3

  Into the Flames, Book 4

  Second Alarm, Book 5

  Feel The Burn, Book 6

  Coming Soon

  STAND-ALONE TITLES

  Emeralds and Gold: A Treasury of Irish Short Stories (anthology)

  Finding Dr. Right

  Time To Heal

  Dangerous Passion

  Dangerous Heat

  Illicit Affair

  Coming Soon

  Be sure to sign up for Lisa's monthly newsletter, Kamps' Korner, for exciting news, sneak peeks, exclusive content, and fun, games, and giveaways! You don’t want to miss it!

  Can't wait for the newsletter? Need to get your fix of hockey, firefighters, passion and news daily? Then please join Lisa and a great group of readers and fans at Kamps Korner on Facebook!

  Chapter One

  "I hate you! I wish you were dead!"

  Aaron Malone schooled his face into an expressionless mask, refusing to let his daughter see how much the words hurt. It didn't matter because Brooke spun on her heels and ran into the house, sliding the patio door behind her with such force, he was surprised it didn't come off the track.

  A small hand gripped his, the flesh of the trembling fingers cool against his callused palm. He looked down and saw Isabelle staring up at him with wide eyes that were already filling with tears.

  "Daddy?" Isabelle's soft voice shook with uncertainty and a hint of fear. Aaron swallowed back his own hurt and kneeled next to his youngest daughter. He hid the pain the movement caused behind a forced smile and ran his hand through Isabelle's long hair.

  "It's okay, Sweet Pea. Brookie's mad at me, not you." No, she was mad at the world and had been since that awful night four months ago when her mother died. But Aaron couldn't say that out loud, not to Isabelle. Not when the ten-year-old had gone through the same nightmare as her sister. Their worlds had been turned upside down, their safe existence shattered when Aaron's ex-wife had been killed in a car crash.

  Had they heard the rumors? Did they know it was because she'd been out partying with her latest boyfriend? That they had both had too much to drink, but he decided to drive anyway?

  The accident had taken both their lives, leaving behind so much more than the remnants of charred, shattered wreckage. Aaron wondered again if he had done the right thing, moving his daughters back here to live with him in Pennsylvania, uprooting them and taking them away from everything they had known for the last four years.

  Forcing them to live with a father they had only seen a week at a time for those same years.

  He shoved the doubts from his mind. Yes, of course he'd done the right thing. They were his daughters. His flesh and blood. No way was he going to leave them with his ex-wife's parents a thousand miles away, no matter how many arguments and obstacles they had thrown in his path.

  It was the right decision, no matter how often he questioned it.

  No matter how many times Brooke fought against it.

  Aaron pressed a quick kiss on the top of his youngest daughter's head then pushed to his feet, grimacing at the pain shooting through his knee. "Why don't you go in and grab the plates and bring them outside while I finish cooking?"

  Isabelle hesitated, that heart-wrenching expression of sadness and uncertainty still on her face as she stared up at him. Then her face cleared, the sadness replaced by a small smile that made his heart lurch in his chest.

  "Okay, Daddy." Isabelle tugged her hand from his then skipped across the patio and into the ho
use. He watched as she slid open the door, watched as she carefully closed it behind her.

  So different from her sister.

  Aaron sighed, the sound weary even to his jaded ears, then turned back to the grill to check on the chicken breasts. Six of them lined the grate, thick and plump and dripping with barbecue sauce. What the hell had he been thinking, putting so many on? He wasn't cooking for a few of his teammates—he was cooking for himself and his two daughters.

  Sure, he'd eat two with no problem. Isabelle might eat half of one. And Brooke…well, he doubted Brooke would even come out of her room to join them for dinner.

  He sighed again, squinting against the gentle smoke coming from the grill as he turned each breast. Four months. Shouldn't he have learned how to cook for his own daughters in that time?

  Yes, he should have. But there was so much to learn, too many mistakes just waiting to be made. And too many mistakes to be made up for.

  Motion from the corner of his eye caught his attention and he looked over, surprised to see Savannah Weber walking toward him, two bottles hanging from her long fingers.

  "Looked like you could use one." She held out one bottle, a small grin curling the corners of her full mouth. Aaron hesitated then accepted the beer with a small grunt of thanks. He twisted off the cap and lifted the bottle to his mouth, watching the woman standing next to him as he drank the beer.

  Savannah had moved in next door a year ago, and they often ran into each other if they were outside. Not hard to do, considering their houses were barely twenty feet apart and no fence separated their yards. And he'd grown accustomed to their chats, to the time they spent together and the way she made him feel: grounded, relaxed. At ease.

  She was friendly, with an easy, open smile that sparkled in her hazel eyes. Light brown hair framed her oval face, the blunt ends gently curled under just below her chin. He had no idea what the style was called but it suited her: crisp and sharp and somehow easy-going at the same time. She did something in marketing, he had no idea what, and worked a lot from home.

  He'd thought about asking her out once, but never did. What would a professional woman like Savannah ever see in a beat-up, worn-down, past-his-prime hockey player like him? Nothing. She was funny and bright and striking and probably had lots of men asking her out. She sure as hell could find better.

  Not that it mattered, not anymore. He had his daughters to worry about now.

  Aaron pulled his gaze from hers, surprised at the heat filling his face and hoping like hell she hadn't been able to see what he was thinking. He sat the bottle next to the grill and reached for the tongs, more for something to do. "I guess Brooke was a little loud."

  Savannah shrugged, that small smile still playing around the corners of her mouth as she leaned against the picnic table. "I take it things didn't go well today?"

  "You could say that." Aaron flipped the breasts one last time then reached for the beer. He'd taken both girls to register them for school today, to make sure all the paperwork was done and their records transferred before the school year started in a few weeks. Isabelle had been quiet and a little curious, just as he'd expected. And Brooke—

  Well, Brooke had gone in full of attitude, all of it negative as she found fault with everything, from the layout of the middle school to its proximity to the elementary school to the classes she'd be taking.

  Just as he'd expected.

  Savannah's smile turned sympathetic. Her gaze drifted to the house, then slowly back to his. "Give her time. She's still adjusting."

  "I know." Aaron looked away from those clear hazel eyes that seemed to see so much more than he was willing to show. He cleared his throat then pulled the chicken from the grill, wondering again why he'd put on so many. The leftovers would go into the refrigerator, where they'd be forgotten until he tossed them later in the week. Unless…

  He didn't stop to think, didn't even question the sudden impulse. "Did you, uh, feel like staying for dinner? I made too much and the girls will never eat it all so there's plenty to go around. If you want, I mean."

  Savannah's laughter caught him off-guard. Breathy and light, it wrapped around him, warming him in ways he hadn't felt in years. It wasn't just her laughter, either—it was the way she was looking at him, with her head tilted to the side so the ends of her hair brushed against the gentle slope of her bare shoulder. Her full mouth curled into a charming smile.

  "How could I resist such an irresistible invitation?"

  Damn, there it was again, that annoying heat that filled his face. Too late, he realized how he had phrased the invite and he looked away, wondering if she noticed the blush creeping across his cheeks. He opened his mouth, tried to stammer out an apology, and was saved from saying anything by the sound of the back door sliding opening then closing again.

  Isabelle's face was scrunched up in concentration as she made her way across the patio, her hands filled with plates and silverware. Three glasses—the real kind, not plastic—wobbled from their perch on top of the plates. Aaron tossed the tongs down, his breath held as his gaze locked on those wobbling glasses, knowing they were seconds away from crashing to the patio.

  He started to move but Savannah was quicker, her long, slim legs reaching Isabelle in three quick strides. She leaned over and rescued the glasses just as they started to topple, catching them before they could hit the pavers and splinter into a thousand shards that would have sliced Isabelle's thin legs.

  "Looks like you've got your hands full, kiddo. Let me help."

  His daughter looked up at Savannah, a shy smile of gratitude on her face. "Thank you."

  Aaron released the breath he'd been holding then turned back to the grill and reached for the tongs. Heat seared his thumb and he quickly dropped them, swallowing back the curse that wanted to tumble from his mouth. He glanced at his thumb then brought it to his mouth, sucking on the small burn across the fleshy pad as he called himself an idiot for not paying closer attention.

  "You okay?"

  He glanced over, surprised to see Savannah by his side, amusement dancing in her hazel eyes as she stared at his hand.

  No, not at his hand—at his thumb, which was still in his mouth like he was some stupid baby. He yanked his hand away, rubbed it against the leg of his gym shorts, then reached for the tongs again, this time making sure his hands stayed safely away from the grill.

  "Yeah, fine. Wasn't paying attention."

  Savannah laughed, the sound light and carefree, then turned back to Isabelle. "Did you need help setting the table?"

  "Yes, please."

  A lump settled in Aaron's chest, one that wouldn't disappear no matter how many times he swallowed. How stupid was it to read so much into the fact that Savannah had asked if she could help, instead of just taking over? Yeah, that was pretty damn stupid.

  He turned off the grill and grabbed the platter of breasts then stood there, watching as Savannah helped Isabelle set the table. Three plates. Three glasses. Three forks and three knives. Three napkins.

  Three.

  "Isabelle, Savannah's going to join us for dinner so we need one more place setting."

  Surprise flashed in his daughter's eyes, quickly replaced with excitement when she looked over at Savannah. Aaron's gut twisted at the sight. Was it simply because Isabelle happened to like their neighbor, or was there something more to it? Was Isabelle craving a mother's presence more than he realized? Or was it just a woman's presence that she needed?

  Doubt threaded its way through his mind once again. Not for the first time, he wondered if he had done the right thing by bringing the girls to live with him. Yes, he was their father, but they barely knew him. And he knew nothing about raising girls.

  He knew nothing about raising kids, period.

  He pushed the doubts away, shoving them into a corner of his mind and ruthlessly slamming a mental door on them. He was their father. Bringing them here was the right thing to do. No, it hadn't been an easy four months, and they still had a lot of bump
s ahead of them, but they were his daughters. They belonged with him.

  Savannah and Isabelle disappeared into the house, returning a few minutes later carrying a pitcher of iced tea and the tray holding the salad he had tossed earlier along with the tub of coleslaw—

  And no additional place setting.

  Savannah must have seen his questioning look because she caught his eye and quickly shook her head as Isabelle put the tray on the table.

  "Brooke said she wasn't coming out to eat. And…" Isabelle hesitated, then leaned closer and lowered her voice to a loud whisper. "And she called Miss Savannah a bad word."

  Anger mingled with embarrassment coursed through Aaron and he darted a glance at Savannah. "She what?"

  "It's okay, she's just going—"

  "No, it's not okay. She can be mad at me all she wants, but that's no excuse to talk to you that way."

  Savannah stepped closer and placed her hand on his arm, the touch gentle and reassuring. "Aaron, really, it's okay. I'll just go home—"

  "It's not okay. And you don't need to go home. I invited you for dinner." Aaron stepped away from her, felt the late-summer breeze brush against his skin where her hand had just been. Odd, how chilled that breeze felt compared to the warmth of her touch. He gave himself a mental shake then motioned to the bench across from him. "Sit. The chicken's getting cold."

  "Aaron, it's not—"

  "I said sit." He realized how gruff he sounded, like he was barking orders. Savannah's brows shot up, a small smile teasing the corners of her mouth. Heat filled his face again as he cleared his throat. "Uh, I mean, please."

  "But Brooke—"

  "Needs to learn she's not going to get away with this kind of behavior. She can join us if she gets hungry." Aaron slid onto the bench and stabbed a chicken breast with his fork. He dropped it onto Savannah's plate then stabbed a second one for Isabelle and cut it in half, watching Savannah from the corner of his eye, his breath held as he waited to see what she would do.

  The small smile on her face bloomed into a grin as she finally took a seat across from him. An answering grin curled his own lips as he spooned coleslaw onto Isabelle's plate then passed the tub to Savannah.