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    Steele
    Steele
    Steele
    Ebook123 pages1 hour

    Steele

    By Celia Crown

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    It was the wrong time and the wrong place.

     

    Steele almost had her, and he almost lost her, too.

     

    When a dangerous incident occurs in their lives, a former police officer must fight the hidden bloodcurdling possessiveness to protect her.

     

    It has happened, and that meant that he didn't do enough to keep her safe.

     

    Sometimes, it's the ones that are close to us that hurt us the most.

     

    Steele was virtuous for Hattie's sake, but they were meaningless efforts. He's going to show Hattie that he's the only one she can trust.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCelia Crown
    Release dateApr 20, 2023
    ISBN9798223707820
    Steele

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      Book preview

      Steele - Celia Crown

      Chapter One

      ___________

      Hattie

      It feels like it was yesterday that the realization smacked me in the face.

      An unfriendly backhand was more like it.

      It has been a long time since that thought crossed my mind. Months, maybe years, I don’t really remember.

      The last time I can remember was when Steele came over with a midnight snack and decaffeinated herbal tea after a night of cramming. The moment I saw him, the flood of overwhelming feelings nearly cracked my façade.

      I wanted to tell him I loved him.

      It would have been a major setback in our friendship. It was not the first time I wanted to blurt something out like that.

      The first time was when we met, and Dad was still alive. Steele peeked into my soul, and I thought he wanted to reap my life force. But he was more interested in the dog tags I was holding.

      They were his; I had found them in the backyard and swore up and down I was not a thief.

      Dad introduced Steele as one of his best police officers. The thought of being a detective offended Steele because he was not the type to sit behind a desk doing paperwork all day.

      It was love at first sight.

      Then love at adrenaline-filled touch came.

      I was on a ladder to retrieve the piece of paper a freaking squirrel had snatched off the patio table. A gust of wind—I want to say it was Fate’s doing—tossed me back like a ragged doll. I landed in the arms of a very irritable man who was already reprimanding me for my dangerous behavior.

      He did not care that I was trying to salvage my term paper. All he had in mind was to ensure his assistance was always there for me.

      I just had to find the courage to knock on his door.

      Easier said than done.

      However, the third time is a charm.

      I gathered the courage to elegantly tell him my feelings.

      Expecting to get distracted by his shirtless body, I practiced in front of the mirror and planned everything. It was the most humiliating thing I had ever done, even without an audience.

      Looking pretty, I walk through our connecting backyards with the words on the tip of my tongue. But the fancy dialogue in my head withers away as he stands to face me.

      I had miscalculated.

      Any idea that he would have the same feelings was mere fantasy.

      "I’m sorry, sweetheart. I never meant for you to get ideas—I am sorry, but we cannot happen. It’s not right."

      Steele is not a man of words, but I did not expect his rejection to be this blunt.

      My reaction starts with small things; the sun disappearing behind the roofs, a little black dot at the corner of my eyes, a nick of fresh air cutting deep into my lungs, the sound of crickets buzzing in the trees somewhere in the back of my mind, and the ground swaying and seeing double.

      Sweetheart, are you alright?

      His big hand, the one I love to hang onto for a moment longer than necessary when he helps me, grazes my cheek. Warm and calloused, it usually brings more comfort to me than the silk sheets on my bed.

      At that moment, I felt sick.

      I don’t want him to touch me. Acidic bile lingers at the base of my throat, and it’s painful to swallow the horrid wave of emotions.

      Humiliated, I mumble, Fish food, I have to get it.

      I had considered the possibility of rejection but was so confident that I did not think too much about it.

      Surprised was the wrong word.

      A miscalculation, I remind myself.

      I’m way over my head on this; he is the first man I ever fell in love with. Without guidance, I followed what my instincts had told me to do.

      Inexperience is not an attractive thing to a man like Steele. Much older, he had done things I could not even begin to imagine and saw things that were not for innocent eyes.

      Steele is not nice to me because he has the same feelings I do. He is nice because Dad was his friend. In a sick and twisted way, he feels responsible for me after Dad’s death.

      Dad died on the job. Steele has no reason to feel responsible for taking care of a grown woman.

      Ah, yes. A grown woman, that is what I’m supposed to be.

      Rejection is a part of life and—

      I have to go before they close, I say.

      Avoiding the hell out of the situation until ready to face it, this is not the right time for me.

      I turn on my heel and awkwardly walk away. I have been in his backyard many times and know the gate to the front is always open, so I don’t have to make this more complicated than it already is.

      Hattie, wait—

      I don’t think so.

      I picked up my pace and rush out to the sidewalk, where there were still several people around.

      This is a neighborhood where many law enforcement officers reside. The aura of the blue code protecting everyone here makes it one of the safest places for their family members.

      Obviously, Dad had chosen this place because everyone looks after each other.

      There is at least one community barbeque every weekend, so I will not have to face Steele until then if I can manage to avoid him.

      I don’t want to socialize with the scent of fifty types of meat there, but neighbors would ask questions if I did not show up.

      I am, by far, the youngest person living in a house by myself here.

      Dad’s gone, and Mom is deployed overseas.

      They never took their work home, so I rarely knew what they were up to. Mom would be gone for months at a time, and Dad did more overtime than what is recommended.

      I never once resented them for putting me on the back burner because I knew they loved me. They worked so hard to provide a safe, comfortable place to live so I could do whatever I wanted.

      I would never take that for granted, and that is why I’m doing my best to get into a better university.

      After my bachelor’s degree, I’m aiming for a Master’s.

      Um, Miss, you cool?

      I snap out of my thoughts at the voice. Glancing around frantically, I realize I can’t see the sky anymore. It’s a high ceiling with bars extending from all directions.

      What? I ask, confused, and taken aback by the change of scenery.

      Was I that deep in my thoughts all this time?

      Where am I?

      Are you okay? You were spaced out, the younger man asks as he fixes his apron.

      It’s the fish store where Dad had gotten the clown-fishes for me. It was the last present he gave me before he passed away.

      I hate clowns, so he thought they might help me by association for the next round of Halloween parades in the community.

      It made absolutely no sense because he knew exposure therapy does not work on me. I still have not gotten over the fear of silverfish.

      I’m fine, thank you, I mumble.

      The man tightens his features but nods before walking away.

      I must have been walking with just the memory in my head. I don’t remember crossing any streets or anything else for that matter.

      I was on autopilot, trying to contain the devastation of being rejected.

      This is not like the movies where the girl dramatically runs away and hides in her bedroom to cry her eyes out.

      I’m not that girl.

      I hate crying. It’s something I have learned not to do.

      It’s going to be weird seeing him every day, but it’s not going to be the end of the world. I’ll get over it and who knows, maybe it’ll be easier once my admission to the master’s program comes through.

      Then, I will see him much less or not at all.

      My teeth sink into my bottom lip as tears gather at the corners of my eyes. My lungs expand and compensate for the quivering breath that stutters out when I exhale.

      Don’t be dramatic, I scold myself.

      I must get the raging emotions out of my system. What better way than spending money on those clown-fishes?

      Tears will not help; they will only make me feel worse.

      Okay, I insist with a grin as I snatch the bag of fish food off the shelf.

      The checkout lane has a woman trying

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