Nate Read online

  Las Vegas. Sidewinders: Nate

  Kat Mizera

  Copyright © 2019 by Kat Mizera

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design: Dar Albert, Wicked Good Designs

  Editing: Tera Cuskaden, KM Krick

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Also by Kat Mizera

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from “Defending Dani”

  Also by Kat Mizera

  The Las Vegas Sidewinders Series:

  Dominic

  Cody’s Christmas Surprise

  Drake

  Karl

  Las Vegas Sidewinders: Box Set, Vol. I

  Anatoli

  Zakk

  Toli & Tessa

  Las Vegas Sidewinders: Box Set, Vol. II

  Brock

  Vladimir

  Royce

  Nate

  Sidewinders: Ever After (coming soon)

  Jared (date TBD)

  The Inferno Series:

  Salvation’s Inferno

  Temptation’s Inferno

  Redemption’s Inferno

  The Inferno Series Box Set

  Tropical Inferno (formerly “Tropical Ice”)

  Romancing Europe Series:

  Adonis in Athens

  Smitten in Santorini

  The Alaska Blizzard Series:

  Defending Dani

  Holding Hailey

  Winning Whitney

  Losing Laurel (Coming soon)

  Other Books:

  Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Protecting Bobbi (Susan Stoker’s Special Forces World)

  Brotherhood Protectors: Catching Lana (Elle James’s Brotherhood Protectors World)

  Acknowledgments

  Every book is a process. Sometimes it’s a methodical, streamlined one. Other times, it’s filled with more turbulence than a 747 over the Bermuda Triangle. This book was a tough one, one that I never would have survived without my tribe: Lindsay, Lisa, Heather, Tera, Gwyn, Kelsey, my Vegas Vixens, and most of all, my family.

  I love you all.

  1

  “Baldwin, get in here!”

  Chelsea Baldwin jumped as the sound of her boss’s voice reverberated through the office. She exchanged a quick, irritated glance with her co-worker, Rita Sorenson, before getting up and hurrying into the managing editor’s office.

  Even after working for the Sin City Observer for four months, Teddy Morris still made her nervous. With his perpetually ruddy cheeks, beer belly, and stereotypical cigarette hanging out of his mouth, he looked like a middle-aged throwback to the 1970s. The readers always perched on the edge of his nose were missing today, though, and his bloodshot eyes were surprisingly sharp.

  “What’s up?” she asked, hoping she didn’t look as nervous as she felt.

  “You’re going to the Sidewinders game tonight. It’s the first home game of the season, and we need someone there.”

  “I don’t know anything about hockey,” she protested.

  He looked up in annoyance. “You forget how to do research?”

  She blinked. “It’s after two, so I’ve only got a few hours before—”

  “Then you should get to it. Your name’s at Will Call. If you have any problems, the head of media relations over there is Lana Carmichael. I’ve emailed you her contact information.”

  Chelsea wanted to protest but figured there was no point, so she nodded at him before going back to her desk.

  “What happened?” Rita stage whispered.

  “I’m covering the Sidewinders game tonight.”

  Rita looked surprised and—disappointed? Chelsea wasn’t sure what to make of the strange look in her eyes. “Damn, girl, you’re moving up quick.”

  “You call covering a sport I know nothing about moving up?”

  “The Sidewinders are the only professional sports team in Vegas. They’ve already won a championship, and almost every game is sold out. Press passes to the games are hot commodities.”

  Chelsea frowned. “Well, I’ve got less than three hours to get up to speed with enough info not to make a fool of myself. Shit, will I actually be in the locker room?”

  “Marv used to.” Marv Gaston was the sports writer at the paper, but after his heart attack over the summer, he was on medical leave until further notice.

  “Great.” Chelsea was already pulling up the internet and searching for information on the team.

  This was the Sidewinders’ sixth season. They had a Stanley Cup championship under their belt and had been to the playoffs four out of five seasons. The team had the second-highest attendance record in the NHL and according to their website, their youth hockey program was now one of the busiest in the U.S. The website was full of pictures of the players out and about in the community, doing charity events, fan events, and even visiting local schools to promote anti-bullying campaigns. They were active in a lot more than hockey, and she wondered if this was true for all the teams in the NHL. The other teams weren’t her problem, though, and she continued clicking on link after link to gather as much information as possible.

  It was going to be a busy afternoon, and it didn’t look like there would be enough time to stop home to change clothes. Not that she had any idea what journalists wore to interview professional athletes in the locker room after a game. Were the guys even dressed? They had to be, right?

  She hung her head and took a deep breath. She could do this—she would do this. Writing was all she’d ever wanted to do, and she’d fallen in love with journalism while working at both her high school and college newspapers. Though working at the Observer was a drag sometimes, it was a paying job in her field. Granted, she had to live at home because the pay was so bad, but it was giving her the experience she wouldn’t get waiting tables. Besides, this was a new adventure, right?

  Right?

  Yes, definitely.

  Well, probably.

  Nate Calloway rested his elbows on his thighs and took a few slow, deep breaths. This was it. The start of everything he’d been working for since he was six years old. His first professional hockey game. It was a little surreal but scary and exciting and about four hundred other emotions that were playing bumper cars in his brain. He’d been fine until about two minutes ago when he realized it was almost time to skate out onto the ice for the warm-up.

  He’d done this hundreds of times. Hell, he’d even done
it with his new team, the Las Vegas Sidewinders, during the pre-season. This wasn’t pre-season, though. Tonight was the real deal, on national television, with tons of focus on the rookie. Him. He was the rookie. No longer the star player for his university in Boston, he was starting over here in Las Vegas. He had to prove himself like he never had before, and though he’d obviously done well enough during training camp and the pre-season to make the roster, that could change at any time. And it all started tonight.

  Shit, he was going to hurl. He got up, looking around wildly, wondering if he had time to get to the bathroom before it was time to go.

  “Easy, kid.” Cody Armstrong’s calm, steady gaze found Nate’s and he put a hand on his shoulder. “There’s nothing new out there—you’ve done this a thousand times.”

  “Yeah. I know.” Nate gave the team captain a weary smile. “It kind of hit me all at once.”

  “Pretend it’s still pre-season. You earned your place on the team, so don’t let all the other shit get into your head. Turn off the noise. Find your zen, whether it’s some sort of meditation or your favorite vacation spot or a song—find that space and stay there until the game starts and then your training will take over.”

  “Thanks.” Nate blew out a breath, hoping he wasn’t making an ass of himself in front of his new teammates.

  “You ready?” Toli Petrov, one of the alternate captains and a team veteran, joined them in the back of the room.

  “Opening night jitters,” Cody said with a grin. “He’ll be fine.”

  “It happens to all of us,” Toli said in his slightly accented English. “My first NHL game, I was eighteen and barely spoke any English so be grateful you’re in your own country and know the language.”

  Nate laughed. “You got me there.”

  “Let’s do this.” Cody let out a low whistle to indicate it was time to go, and Nate fell to the back of the line as the guys filtered out into the hallway leading to the tunnel that would take them to the ice.

  With Cody’s advice in the back of his mind, he focused on the night his college team had won the Frozen Four competition, how he’d scored the winning goal and the excitement of being one of the very best at that level. If he could stay in the zone that way, everything was going to be okay.

  By the time Nate skated off the ice and headed back to the locker room, he wasn’t just calmer, he was pumped on adrenaline. It felt good to have won his first game as a Sidewinder, and though he still had a lot to learn, there had been a cohesiveness on the ice that was natural considering the newness of it all.

  “You okay?” Cody was beside him.

  Nate flashed a grin. “Way better than before. Thanks.”

  “We all get nerves at first. Next game, you won’t even think about it.”

  Nate nodded, filing into the locker room and sinking down on the bench. He closed his eyes, let out a breath and allowed himself to relax for the first time all day. He’d woken up with butterflies in his stomach. He hadn’t been able to nap in the afternoon, which was his usual routine on game days, and his stomach had revolted against all attempts to eat. It occurred to him he was now starving and he sat up, leaning over to unlace his skates. The quicker he got out of here, the sooner he’d get some food.

  “Press is coming in,” Cody said to him. “You ready?”

  “I’m good.” Dealing with the media was old hat to him, even though it would most likely be a little more intense at the NHL level. He’d done it the last four years as a star player for his college team, and he hoped to be as popular with the media here as he’d been in Boston. He’d attended boarding schools and college in New England for nearly a decade now, so his Texas accent was mostly gone, but the press seemed to eat it up whenever he let it out so he used it when he needed to. His teammates hadn’t heard it yet and his plan was to keep it that way.

  The usual suspects filtered into the room, and he leaned back, waiting and watching as the veteran players like Cody, Toli, and Dom Gianni were immediately approached. Cody was holding court with a couple of middle-aged reporters Nate recognized off the bat. They were the big leagues as far as sports journalists went and he’d seen them around. There was only one female in the group, an older woman who was all business, with her phone up in the air as she fired questions at Toli. There was a handful of younger guys, probably in their mid-twenties, doing their best to keep up with the seasoned journalists as they attempted to ask questions by talking over their more experienced counterparts. Looking in from the outside, it was kind of amusing, and Nate found himself entertained by their shenanigans as they tried to outdo each other.

  As the group of writers formed a semi-circle around Cody, pushing to get closer, Nate noticed a young woman he hadn’t seen before. She was standing farther back, her phone clutched in her hand so tightly her knuckles were white. She looked a lot younger than the rest of the journalists in the room, and her shaking hands belied her inexperience. Nate felt bad for her as she tried to move forward but was perpetually pushed back.

  “Watch the logo!” One of the veterans motioned with his head.

  The young woman nearly jumped out of her skin and quickly moved the tip of her shoe off the Sidewinders’ logo, which was designed on the carpet in the room. It was supposedly bad luck to step on it so everyone was always careful to avoid it, though it was inevitable sometimes when there was a mass of people like there was now.

  Standing off to the side, in the back of the group, the young journalist was just a foot or so away from Nate, and he couldn’t help but notice her long legs. She seemed fairly tall, maybe five-feet-six or seven, and she wore white capris and a bright yellow top of some kind with a denim jacket over it. She had cute white sandals on her feet, and he wondered if she’d been cold watching the game. It was still a million degrees outside, so he understood why she’d dressed that way, but it was chilly inside the arena.

  One of the men standing in front of her stepped on her foot, and she yanked it away, stepping back to regain her balance and unwittingly winding up on the logo—again. Nate reached out his hand, gently tugging on the bottom of her jacket. She didn’t notice at first, so he did it again, and she glanced down at him in confusion. He motioned to her foot using just his eyes, and she looked down in horror, instantly moving closer to him to avoid the offending logo. He gave her a small wink, and she grimaced, mouthing, “Sorry.”

  He chuckled and whispered, “I didn’t see anything.”

  She smiled for the first time, and his heart nearly stopped. Holy crap, she had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen and her pretty smile lit up her whole face. The color of her shirt somehow brought sunshine into an otherwise bland room. He hadn’t really seen her until now and was suddenly acutely aware of how close she was, as if she was his own personal ray of sunshine.

  At this point, she’d given up trying to force her way forward and was now standing still, her cell phone in the air to record as much of Cody’s interview as possible. Another journalist stepped back, his foot coming down on hers for the second time just as one of the younger guys pushed his way through the crowd to get closer. The woman let out a tiny yelp of pain, tried valiantly to move out of the way but lost her balance and toppled right into Nate’s lap.

  2

  Chelsea wasn’t sure what was worse: the pain in her foot or the humiliation of landing on the lap of one of the Sidewinders. His arms closed around her instinctively, steadying her as their eyes met. She wanted to apologize but as she stared into his pale blue eyes, she momentarily forgot who he was, where they were, or why she was here. He gave her a slow, sexy wink and very gently set her on her feet, and he stood as well. Without saying anything, he guided her forward until she was close to the front, a faint smile on his face when everyone made way for him. The older female journalist immediately turned, sticking her phone in his face.

  “Nate, how was your first NHL regular season game? You had an assist, what did that feel like?”

  Nate answered easily, obviously prepared
for questions like this. The team captain, whose name she suddenly couldn’t remember, moved to the side and let Nate take over. She stared up at the tall, shirtless hockey player and tried to keep her eyes focused on his face instead of his beautiful torso. He was scary, but in a totally different way than she’d been expecting. She’d thought hockey players would be big, toothless and hairy—she wasn’t sure why—and she’d been fantastically wrong, especially with this guy. She’d done enough research to know his name was Nate Calloway, but his profile picture didn’t do him justice. He was gorgeous, with light brown hair, light blue eyes, a strong chin…and that body. It was enough to make a girl think things she shouldn’t, especially not in a professional situation.

  She watched in fascination, taking in the timbre of his voice—was that a slight Southern accent?—and the way he made eye contact with everyone he spoke to. He was beautifully sexy. There was no other way to describe him. As unprofessional as it may have been, landing in his lap had been the most exciting thing to happen to her in months. Maybe more.

  When the journalists finally started to disburse, she couldn’t resist approaching him one last time.

  “I, um, thank you,” she said softly. “I appreciate you keeping me off the logo and saving me from myself.”