Where love is concerned, the smallest steps are often the hardest to take—especially when you’ve guarded your heart as carefully as Iris Miller has. Still bruised from a relationship that crashed and burned, and all the meaningless hookups that followed, Iris has given up on love and buttoned her feelings up tight.
But when Cameron Hansen joins Iris’s law firm and her soccer team, and even starts hanging out in her favorite bookstore, everything gets turned upside down. Beautiful, open, and forward, Cam is impossible to ignore, and Iris is surprised to find herself intrigued. Cam’s straight, happily engaged, and simply looking for a friend—or so it seems.
London’s bitterly cold winter makes winning their soccer championship almost as difficult as keeping their feelings in check, being honest with each other, and trying not to fall in love. Iris and Cam are about to discover the meaning of taking chances and following your heart, even if it means getting hurt.
One Small Step
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One Small Step
© 2019 By MA Binfield. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-63555-597-4
This Electronic Original Is Published By
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, NY 12185
First Edition: December 2019
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Cindy Cresap
Production Design: Susan Ramundo
Cover Design By Tammy Seidick
Acknowledgments
Huge thanks to my editor, Cindy Cresap, who improved this book immeasurably and helped this newbie author immensely. She also taught me important life lessons about Donna Noble and the importance of turning left.
Thanks to Rebecca, Debs, and Amanda for being willing and helpful beta readers before any of us even knew what that meant.
I’ve played for many footie teams over the years and can definitely assure everyone that Jess is a figment of my imagination—though the boozing after training definitely feels familiar!
Though Devam and his chef are not real, Dawat is an actual restaurant on Brick Lane I’ve stuffed myself at many times.
Finally a huge kiss and big hug for Helen, the love of my life, who fed me and did the breadwinning thing while I wrote this book.
Dedication
For Anna Chesner (who saved my life)
Chapter One
The small changing room had a smell that Iris Miller was long familiar with. Dried mud and cleaning fluids—a rich bouquet of not-very-nice aromas that Iris was happy to breathe in for once. Hazel—her teammate and oldest friend—was adding the pungent smell of muscle rub into the mix.
“You’re cutting it a bit fine,” Hazel said without looking up from the task of massaging the cream into the muscles in her thighs. “I thought you weren’t gonna turn up.”
Iris ruffled Hazel’s hair affectionately. “Aren’t you supposed to start by telling me how much you missed me?”
Hazel wrapped her arms around Iris in a tight hug. Hazel was a few inches shorter than Iris and stood on her tiptoes as they embraced.
“Course I missed you, stupid. It’s been no fun without you, here or at work. Felt like months rather than weeks.” Hazel pulled Iris down to the bench. “Now get changed quick before you get into trouble with Megan. She’s got that glint in her eye that means she’s gonna make training hell tonight. But I wanna hear all about your trip down the pub later.”
“Yeah…if I can stay awake.” Iris stripped off her jeans and started to unpack her bag. She scanned the room, checking who was there, who wasn’t, feeling happy to be back amongst her teammates again. She’d only been away four weeks but didn’t mind admitting that she’d missed them.
Jess reached out to put a hand awkwardly on her arm. “I missed you as well.”
Iris looked back at her cautiously while subtly changing position to break the contact. “Hey, Jess. How’re you doing? What’ve I missed?” She listened halfheartedly as Jess told her tales of office politics and new clients and, of course, of her love life. A giddying whirl of women that Iris could barely keep track of at the best of times, let alone when she felt this tired. She nodded and murmured in all the right places until Jess’s phone beeped and she stopped talking to concentrate on replying to the text.
Iris felt relief at being saved by the beep. She stretched and yawned, the jet lag not yet out of her system. A good physical workout was just what she needed.
Iris noticed someone opposite her she didn’t recognize. A graceful, fair-haired woman, pushing her head through the neck of a long sleeved navy sports shirt. Iris couldn’t help but notice that she was in great shape, toned in all the right places, and with an athletic look that was also somehow perfectly feminine.
As the woman pulled down and straightened her top and her face came into view, Iris could see that she was also heart-stoppingly beautiful. Her pale skin was flawless, and her lips were pink and full. Iris tried not to stare, tried to move her gaze away and concentrate instead on tightening the laces on her football boots, but, involuntarily, her eyes sought out the stranger again. Iris forced herself to face up to the grim fact that, while there weren’t many things that were off limits when you played team sports, staring at teammates in the changing room was definitely one of them.
Though the woman was oblivious, Iris’s attentiveness hadn’t gone unnoticed by Hazel. With as much subtlety as the world’s most unsubtle person could muster, Hazel whispered loudly into Iris’s ear. “Bloody hell, mate, I thought that you were halfway to the convent, but maybe there’s life in you yet.” Hazel nodded in the direction of the woman Iris had been gazing at, and Iris felt her cheeks heat.
Hazel had a loud personality—Iris loved that about her—but unfortunately it came with an even louder voice, and Iris didn’t want Hazel’s whispered comments to be overheard, especially not by Jess, who was sitting quietly tying her boots. “Keep your voice down, Haze. Don’t embarrass me.”
“Embarrass you? What with the drooling and the staring, I don’t think you need any help from me.”
“I was just curious that’s all.” Iris didn’t sound at all convincing, even to herself. “I didn’t know we had any new players. Is this her first time?”
Hazel seemed to relent and take pity at Iris’s discomfort. “Nah. You’ve been away. She joined a month ago and she’s played a couple of times already. Took your place in midfield while you were away. She’s a pretty good player as well—nice control, a tidy finish, and definitely fitter than most of us…as you’ve already noticed,” Hazel said with a raised eyebrow and a wink.
Iris ignored the comment, already feeling bad about her blatant checking out of the new player. “Where’s she working?” She took the muscle rub from Hazel and began to massage it into her calves.
“She’s in finance, works for Graham…poor sod. She was taken on to cover for Daisy’s maternity leave last month. Seems nice. Came to the pub after training last week. Had a few drinks, bit quiet, but I guess she doesn’t really know anyone yet.”
Iris nodded and Hazel nudged her. “I tell you what though, Iris, the world ain’
t ready for you getting back in the game. We need notice, some time to lock up our sisters.” Hazel’s tone was playful.
“It’d be nice to see you interested in someone though. You know damn well that I think you insisting on staying single is ridiculous.” Hazel began to stretch, first her calves and then her hamstrings.
“Don’t start, Haze.”
“Start what? It’s true. You’ve become a workaholic. All work and no play. How long you gonna keep avoiding life?”
Hazel meant well, Iris knew that, but she didn’t understand what it felt like to be Iris, to have to live with the mess and the pain that had happened the last time she had let herself love. She tried to keep her tone light. “C’mon, I don’t want to get into this now. I’ve heard it all before. I just want to have a good session. Ideally, I’ll score a few goals, avoid any crunching tackles from Vicki, and hope that Megan’s not premenstrual enough to make us do push-ups if we miss during the penalty practice.”
Iris turned her back on Hazel to signify that the topic was closed and began to stretch, pushing down on the wooden bench as she did so.
Hazel threw an arm across Iris’s shoulders. “Okay, okay. I’ll leave it alone, but I will say one thing, when you do decide to come back out to play, please get your gaydar fixed first. Cameron Hansen, our new temp, and the object of your attentions, is engaged, and presumably as straight as they come. Jess reckons there’ll be wedding bells soon. ”
Hazel raised an eyebrow. “You’re a little rusty, mate.” She stepped out of Iris’s reach, guessing rightly that Iris would swing out with her foot and attempt to connect with Hazel’s well-protected shin. Hazel’s speedy reaction left Iris kicking at air. They laughed, and Jess—ever alert—demanded to know what they were talking about and whined about being left out of the fun. She scowled, looking even younger than her twenty-four years.
Iris had surprised herself by even noticing the new woman. Hazel was right. It had been a long time since she’d noticed anyone. Cameron. Iris tried out the name in her head. It sounded Scottish. She rarely ever crushed on straight women. It was generally a pointless endeavor, and she just wasn’t one of those women who enjoyed chasing people who weren’t available. Iris wondered idly if there had been something else, something other than how damn attractive she was, that had drawn her attention to Cameron. Hazel was right. Her gaydar was rusty. It shouldn’t be a surprise. She hadn’t used it in months.
A booming voice from across the changing room brought Iris out of her reverie.
“Iris! Where’ve you been? We missed you.” Vicki emptied the contents of her bag onto the floor and started to get ready in a hurry.
She was loud and would be late for her own funeral, but Iris had a soft spot for Vicki a mile wide. She no longer worked at Cottoms. She left months ago to take up a more senior position at a rival solicitors’, but she continued to play and train for the football team that the company supported, and Iris was glad that it gave them the opportunity to stay in touch.
Vicki was as no-nonsense as you would expect from a central defender. Tall, solidly built, with dramatic white-blond hair and pale skin. She looked Scandinavian, but when she spoke there was absolutely no doubt that she was actually Australian. Her bellowed question had caused most of her teammates to stop and listen.
“We’ve missed you, mate. Well, not too much actually, as she”—Vicki pointed at Cameron—“has been scoring for fun while you’ve been away.”
Iris was aware that Cameron was watching her interaction with Vicki with an amused expression even though others had stopped paying attention and resumed getting ready.
Iris played along. “I’d heard I’d been replaced by a new improved model. To be honest, I was a bit worried I wouldn’t even be allowed in tonight, but it seems that Megan still needs someone to clean the boots so you haven’t seen the last of me yet.”
Vicki laughed. “I missed you. I thought you must have been injured. I asked Hazel if one of those women you’d left feeling rejected had finally picked up the courage to put in a heavy tackle on you behind the ref’s back, but she said you were away. Boring.”
Cameron turned away and began fiddling with the bag hanging on the coat hook near where she was sitting. Iris wasn’t sure, but Cameron seemed embarrassed as she was outed by Vicki so clearly. Iris was bothered for a second, but then she made herself remember that not only did she not know Cameron, and therefore shouldn’t give a toss about what she thought of her, but that this was a women’s football team so being freaked out by lesbians probably wouldn’t get Cameron very far.
“Nothing so dramatic, sorry to disappoint. Work trip. I was in Dubai. We’re setting up a new office out there. Lucky me. Four weeks away from home, working twelve-hour days and without even access to alcohol to numb the pain of being away from you lot.”
“I bet British Airways had to restock that bar a couple of times on her flight home,” Hazel said. “She says she’s got jet lag, but I don’t actually think she’s been sober since she came back.”
Iris was so glad to be back in London. She had missed this, missed her colleagues, her friends, her teammates—knowing that some of them fell into all three categories. And she had definitely missed the camaraderie and banter of the changing room.
Megan, the team captain, called them to order. “C’mon then, ladies. Enough chatting, it’s time for training. Last one into the center circle does ten push-ups.”
They clamored to leave the changing room. Those that weren’t quite ready groaned and hurried themselves while those that were looked relieved to be able to head straight to the door. Iris found herself shoulder to shoulder with Cameron as they left the changing room to clatter in their boots across the pavement that led them down to the pitch.
Cameron put out her hand. “Hey, we haven’t met. I’m Cameron, but my friends call me Cam.”
Iris hadn’t been expecting an American accent. She looked at Cam as they shook hands. She hadn’t been expecting those eyes either. They were a warm and alluring sage green, and Cam was staring at Iris as if waiting for something.
Iris remembered herself. “Yeah, I’m Iris, sorry. Pleased to meet you. I’ve been away. Working, not on holiday.” Iris was using unusually short sentences. “I missed your debut. It went well I hear.”
Cam blushed slightly at the compliment. Iris thought it was cute. Very cute. She sucked in a breath and made herself calm down.
“It was awesome, yeah, but I feel under a bit more pressure to perform now. Megan’s kind of made it clear she expects more goals.” Cam shrugged.
“That’s Megan for you. One of the reasons we all try so hard is that we’re scared witless by her.”
As if on cue, Megan strode past with a large bag of footballs slung over her shoulder and shouted at Cameron and Iris and a couple of other players who were chatting and walking too slowly to “get a bloody move on.” Iris and Cam looked at each other and laughed, then quickened their pace.
* * *
Cam emerged from the steamy heat of the changing rooms and headed toward her car. It was cold outside now, colder than she had expected. London kept catching her out like that. She regretted not bothering to dry her hair properly after her shower. She pulled the hood up on her jacket in a vain attempt to keep the cold wind off her still wet head. Training had been hard tonight. Though Cam had scored again in the match last week, the team had conceded a late goal to draw the game, a game that everyone had expected them to win. Megan certainly seemed to want them to make up for it during training tonight. On top of the usual warm-up routines, and a very competitive six a side game, Megan had them running hard laps for fifteen minutes at the end of the session. She had coped with the pace better than most, though Vicki and Iris, with the unfair advantage of their long legs, had outpaced them all.
Cam was tired now. She knew it was as much to do with the sleep she’d missed last night as the intensity of the training session. Ryan had been late home from work again and they had argued—the sam
e argument they always had—about Ryan overworking, about Cam being left alone at home, about how little point there was to being in London if they never saw any of it.
The argument hadn’t lasted long and it hadn’t been particularly heated, but Cam had been left chewing over things and unable to sleep. She’d been even more worked up when, after the argument, Ryan had fallen straight to sleep, seemingly untroubled by any of it. That she’d never smothered him with a pillow in those situations was a testament to her good upbringing.
Ryan was a good guy. Cam knew he was. She just wanted to see more of him, have him less stressed, and maybe have a little more fun. They would make it work; they always did.
Cam got in her car and cranked up the heater to max, willing the temperature to rise. She turned on the radio, already tuned to Heart FM, and decided to listen to some pop music and stop moping. Maybe this weekend she’d take the initiative and find somewhere in town for them to have some cocktails and a fancy dinner. She’d been wanting an excuse to wear that black dress she’d bought. The thought of it lifted her mood.
Cam noticed Iris getting into a Mini Cooper. She felt a small pang of jealousy. She’d wanted a Mini when they moved to London—the car just seemed so wonderfully British—but Ryan had insisted she get something more practical. It was hard to tell the color of the car in the dark, but she couldn’t miss the Union Jack brightly painted on the roof. It was a standout feature, and a voice inside Cam’s head told her that it stood out almost as much as Iris did. The thought surprised her. She had noticed Iris in the changing room straight away. It was hard not to. She was tall, athletic, and bronzed to perfection, no doubt from her recent trip. Her short black hair was wavy and unruly which, coupled with her dark brown eyes, made her look moody and handsome. Tall, dark, and handsome. Cam rolled her eyes at the cliché. But it wasn’t just that she was striking to look at, the other women seemed genuinely pleased that Iris was back, and her liveliness placed her at the center of the changing room banter, her handsome features softened often by a big wide smile.
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