A Bear Victory (3 page)

You must be insane to consider this.

She’d made a promise when she was eighteen years old that she would never date another hockey player. Not after what the first one did to her. And yet, here she was, at twenty-five, seriously considering retiring that notion and picking up a whole new one. Maybe one that went “dating sexy-as-sin hockey bears is fine as long as they’re not assholes.”

With a sigh and a grin, she scrolled back down to the last message.

MontrealSabres4Life: So when are you playing?

PuckBear: I thought you’d never ask
 

CHAPTER THREE

Kimberley

Contrary to what Pucky’s teasing messages over the SassyDate chat had been, Kimberley was in fact
not
wearing a Sabres jersey the day she stepped out of the tiny airplane that took her to Shifter Grove. Or, well, close enough to it.

She was bundled up in a Minnesota Grizzlies hoodie and cap, with a jacket thrown on for good measure. Hovering on the steps leading out of the plane for a moment, she looked around, immediately taken by the rolling mountains in the distance and the lush greenery of the forest that started not far off from the airport itself.

Not that it could really be called an airport if you’d ever been to a
real
one, as this one barely had a runway and the shack that could have doubled for a terminal seemed rather deserted.

“Here for the game? The bus will pick you up,” a chipper voice called behind her, the tall, muscular form of the pilot coming up behind her with a friendly smiled.

He fished her heavy bag out of the cargo hold, where Kimberley had forgotten it, and when she reached to take it from him, he waved his hand dismissively and motioned for her to trundle on down the stairs. Never one to turn down a cute guy doing something nice for her, she gave him a slight smile and skipped down the steps, being the last one out of the airplane other than the pilot himself.

“Yes, I am! The plane was pretty packed, so I guess I’m not the only one,” Kimberley said, walking toward the bus idling at the end of the runway.

The small group of fifteen or so people who could actually fit on the tiny plane already milled around it, putting away their stuff and getting on.

“Oh yeah, this is my third and final flight today. I did four yesterday. I’ve never seen so many people come to Shifter Grove than to see this hockey game! I wonder where they’re all staying. We don’t even have a hotel,” Slate said with a chuckle.

They made it about twenty steps from the plane, the wide-shouldered pilot still carrying the bag, before Kimberley found herself frowning and glancing back at the airplane.

“Hey, shouldn’t you like… lock down your plane or something?” Kimberley asked, the snow scrunching beneath her boots.

“Here? There’s no one who could fly the damn thing, let alone anyone who’d be interested in stealing anything. Maybe when we have a few pilots retiring here I’ll be more mindful of my gear. But this is the boondocks, Miss. Only people who move out here are the ones who want to get away from the mess of regular city living. No stealing, no violence, no bigotry. At least that’s the way we try to keep it,” he said with a mild shrug as they came up to the bus and he put away her bag, helping someone with theirs on the way as well.

That sounds kind of nice… even if I am comparing it to Canadian standards,
Kimberley thought with a little smile, though she was damn sure she’d missed half the stuff he’d told her because she was too busy imagining what Pucky might actually look like and how long it would be before she saw him.

“Your name was Slate, right? I’m Kimberley,” she said, reaching out her hand to him.

“Yup, that’s my name. Feel free to wear it out,” Slate said with a grin, taking her hand in his warm palm and shaking it firmly, every bit the country boy that he sold himself as.

She’d noticed the ring he wore right away and in all honesty, she didn’t have any deductive capabilities to really figure out if anyone was attractive or not because she was so focused on the thought of seeing Pucky finally. But she imagined that if she did, she would have found the first Shifter Grove native she met rather pleasant.

If everyone around here’s like he is, then it might be a nice place to live,
Kimberley thought idly as she clambered into the bus, Slate having found himself in quick conversation with a burly guy driving.

Before the bus rolled off, Slate gave her a toothy smile and a wave, one that Kimberley found herself matching quickly, with a smile of her own forming on the corners of her lips and her gut starting to twist with anticipation. Okay, so Shifter Grove inhabitants seemed nice. Maybe the hockey team would be okay too then?

She coaxed her phone out and checked it, a little disappointed to see no recent messages from Pucky, but considering that the cell reception appeared to be non-existent, then it was no real surprise. The bus was packed with Grizzlies fans, the kind of people who go everywhere to see their favorite team, even if it is just a friendly practice match, which this one definitely was.

How did they even know about it? The Grizzlies didn’t announce it on the website or anything… and why would the Grizzlies come to the middle of nowhere and play some no-name team,
Kimberley wondered, thumbing her phone once more as if to will it to have another message for her.

Pucky had given her three dates when he was playing and some clever snooping had deduced that the first one was another tiny local team, the second one was the Grizzlies game she was heading to, and the third was against the Seattle Direwolves. Whoever these guys were, they had to be some team, because both the Direwolves and Grizzlies were NSHL teams and they didn’t drive out for just anybody.

Especially to play on a lake,
Kimberley thought with a gentle roll of her eyes as the bus rattled on, turning off of the highway and into some rocky backwater roads, which seemed barely wide enough to allow a truck through, let alone a bus.

The drive was pretty long and by the time the bus driver hollered over his shoulder that they were almost there, Kimberley was getting more than a little antsy. The game must have started about ten minutes ago and it took another five to actually arrive, much to the chagrin of everyone on the bus. But no one was really complaining.

When the roads were so narrow and sported a cliff on one side and a rocky fall into nothing on the other, no one was too keen on rushing the driver along, who already was going way faster than Kimberley would have dared.

When the bus pulled into a stop at a parking lot that was really just an open space among the trees, Kimberley was the first one out of the bus, only grabbing her shoulder bag and flying through the snow toward the sound of the screaming and skates hitting the ice. The circular lake, pristinely cleaned but still very much just a lake, opened up before her, with freshly erected stands on one side of it, half-full of cheering fans.

She counted about sixty, maybe seventy people there, clearly some locals and a bunch of Grizzlies fans from out of state. Many of them had flown in with Slate, she was sure. Pulling on a big pair of shades and the bill of her cap down over her face, she wiggled up into the middle of one of the two stands, excusing herself until she found a seat between two big guys entranced with the game.

Taking a breath of relief, she settled in, fussing around a bit with her bag as she tried to catch up with the game.

“Excuse me. What’s the score?” she asked from the guy to her left, a tall, wide man who seemed like he could be a quarterback in another life.

“1–1, the Shovelers have the puck,” he said, motioning loosely at the ice where the Grizzlies were in their trademark black and red. The other team were wearing training jerseys, with no logo and just a black number on white.

“The Shovelers?” she asked, quirking a brow. “Really?”

“That’s what they’re calling themselves right now,” he said with a chuckle, hunching his shoulders in a shrug. “It’s as good of a name as any considering how they have to clean this thing every morning with the snowfall we’ve been getting. You’re sitting in the Shoveler section though, Miss. Better look out. We might not take kindly to Grizzlies fans.”

The man gave her a friendly wink and a grin, before looking back to the ice. Kimberley hadn’t quite digested the jab yet when the stands erupted in a cheer around her, Thermoses with coffee and sandwiches nearly flying out of the hands of several of the huddled-up viewers. She looked up with a jolt, standing up as well as number twenty-one seemed to be practically flying toward the Grizzlies’ goal.

Finally, she could focus on the game and more importantly, the players. She scanned them quickly, noting even at a cursory glance that the guys were putting the Grizzlies through their paces, essentially skating circles around them while the Grizzlies sometimes stumbled and staggered, not knowing the imperfections of the ice.

The Shovelers, as they were calling themselves, were fast, agile, and the guy in front who was getting the puck passed to him more than the others showed some very quick fancy dangling, screwing with the Grizzlies’ defenders. Despite her first and ultimate goal being to find Pucky in that mess of male testosterone and snarling, she couldn’t help but keep staring at the game itself.

There was something so… familiar about twenty-one. Not only him, but the whole team. A sinking feeling took hold of her just as twenty-one plowed past the last defender and went one-on-one with the goalie, feinting behind the goal before swooping the puck in practically on his stick. The crowd went wild and Kimberley’s face went completely pale as number twenty-one pulled off his helmet in a cheer, getting piled onto by his teammates, who were hooting and grinning.

She saw the flash of black on his neck, the telltale sign she’d been looking for.

Pucky.

But it wasn’t just that. She would have recognized that face anywhere. That wide grin, those sparkling blue eyes and the mess of dark hair she knew felt like satin under her fingertips. The One Who Must Not Be Named.

Cannon. Cannon fucking Wright.

Kimberley sank into her seat, which was really just a sanded wooden plank, with her knees shaking, hands quickly going to her face to make sure that the shades still covered her expression. But she forgot that she was in a group of shifters. With her mind screaming at her to get out, reminding her that it had always been a
horrible fucking idea
to come to Idaho to begin with, she suddenly felt a heavy hand on her shoulder as the man she’d been talking to before leaned in.

“You okay, honey? It’s just 2–1, not the end of the world,” he said, patting her shoulder in a bracing way.

“N-no, it’s not… do you know where the team’s from? Who are they?” she asked, feeling herself vibrating all over.

It can’t be him. He can’t be Pucky! Why would Cannon do this to me?!

“You don’t know?” he asked with a quirked brow. “Man, they must have been keeping this shit on lockdown. It’s the Chicago Bluehawks. They just relocated here, but the ice arena isn’t ready yet, nor are their accommodations, so Coach Wiley came down with his starter team first and now they’re doing practice games. You’d think with the Grizzlies coming down here everyone would figure it out, but I haven’t seen a single reporter yet…”

He frowned, though, squeezing her shoulder a little.

“You okay, honey? I think I saw Kacey, the town nurse here somewhere. Do you need me to go find her? You don’t look so good.”

“No, I’m fine! I just need a little bit of air,” Kimberley croaked, knowing full-well how ridiculous that sounded, while flashing a weak smile.

She hopped up, pressing past the kindly man and then jumped off the end of the bleachers. She didn’t need to look back to know that the man was watching her go with a small frown on his face. But what was worst of all was that she was pretty sure she’d seen a jolt of movement on the ice when number twenty-one came forward to the side of the ice as she rushed back toward the parking lot.

“What got into her, Battle?” the man who’d been sitting to the other side of Kimberley asked.

“I don’t know, Redmond. But let her go,” Battle’s deep, calm voice spoke, a tint of worry to it. “I think she’s got some demons to deal with.”

That’s fucking right. The ghost of boyfriends past,
Kimberley thought bitterly, feeling tears brim in her eyes as she stumbled to the parking lot, finding it deserted.

She sat down on a tree stump, practically hyperventilating by the time she dropped her head in her hands, her breath coming in short, heaving wheezes.

Why invite me here? Why play with me like this? Cannon, you fucking bastard, you’ve only gotten crueler…
 

CHAPTER FOUR

Cannon

Cannon’s world ground to a screeching halt as he noticed the tiniest movement from the corner of his eye, the graceful steps of a woman who had haunted his dreams and most of his waking moments for far more years than he cared to admit. As if by instinct rather than through the decision of his own two feet, he skated to the edge of the rink, his brow furrowed as the ice was being cleaned for a quick moment.