Authors: Anya Nowlan
Cannon’s stomach sank. The fact that the team was going to be moving out of Chicago had been known for a long time now, but the new location had been kept as a safely guarded secret. It didn’t take much to figure out that this was because of the usual nonsense in the National Shifter Hockey League, or NSHL, where promotional deals were huge and the amounts of money that kept flying around for deals like moving a whole top-tier team were astronomical.
Whoever had wanted them here had to have paid a hell of a price for them.
Shock settled over the group of nine men, silence ringing clear between them with only the sounds of the forest cutting in. Despite himself, Cannon caught himself whiffing at the air again, thinking how delicious it smelled and how much he just wanted to run in that forest. Something that was as far from his usual behavior as could be.
Slowly, a few glances were thrown around amongst the men, until finally Cannon sighed, shaking his head as most of them centered on him. What was he going to say? “Hell no, I won’t stay in the middle of nowhere, Idaho, with the best coach in the damn league, even if he thinks this is the best thing for me?” That wasn’t going to happen.
Weather though,
he thought grimly, bending down to yank at the handle to the cargo areas below the bus, opening the first one up.
He grabbed two shovels and tossed one at the man closest to him, who happened to be Memphis, before slinging the other one over his shoulder and giving a winning grin to his team.
“Well then. Guess we’re the Shifter Grove Shovelers until someone comes up with something better,” he said, earning some low-murmured expletives and chuckles in response.
Cannon kept himself from glancing back at the hockey gear and his bags stored behind the brooms and shovels, willing himself not to feel the twinge of regret at getting uprooted to begin with. There was a new normal to deal with. One that apparently required a bunch of manual labor.
But if there was one thing Cannon Wright could be sure of, then it was the fact that his team would be right there with him. Feeling the pain and reaping the rewards. Nothing could keep a hockey bear down. At least not this one.
Though it would have been a hell of a lot sweeter if he just had some cell reception. How else could a bear be sure that the absolutely mesmerizing little creature he’d been talking to over SassyDate hadn’t sent him a message?
Goddamn Idaho.
CHAPTER TWO
Kimberley
PuckBear: Don’t lie, you know you want to
MontrealSabres4Life: I want to come down to Idaho to see some 2-bit team dawdle around on ice? You got some nerve, Pucky.
“Kimberley, are we boring you?” Stella Dremmel queried, one finely shaped brow arching quizzically as Kimberley scrambled to shove her phone under the table.
“No, Stella,” she answered, feeling just the lightest touch of a blush rising to her cheeks as the phone vibrated with a low buzzing noise in her hands.
“Wonderful. So you’ll be handling the Chicago game cancellation PR then. I don’t want to hear any complaining about it,” Stella said with a flourish as she waved her hand for the small public relations and media team of the Montreal Sabres to get out of her office, where they’d been gathering at a long table like beggars at an alms table.
“Tough luck,” Serena’s soft voice called behind Kimberley as she stalked out of the office, her expression twisted in discomfort despite the fact that her stomach was doing somersaults as it always did when she was talking to “Pucky.” “That thing’s going to be killer. Chicago dropping out mid-season like that? They could have made the playoffs. Shouldn’t have been making goo-goo eyes at your phone during the meeting or she wouldn’t have stuck you with that crap assignment!”
“They’re not dropping out. Just skipping a few games until they get resettled wherever the hell they’re going. Not that they’re ever going to make up the difference because of those two sure losses, but whatever. And I wasn’t doing anything like that!” Kimberley said, glancing over at her friend as they made a beeline for the rec corner down the hall.
Even a half an hour with Viper, as Stella Dremmel’s employees “affectionately” referred to her, was cause for intravenous shots of caffeine. It was that or succumbing to madness, and Kimberley had far too much to do to allow for that.
“Oh, but I thought
someone
wasn’t supposed to be keeping up with Chicago anymore! Not after Can—”
“We don’t mention that name!” Kimberley said with a gasp, twisting her body around in front of Serena and walking into the little kitchenette back-first, her hand shoved in front of Serena’s face as if to ward off any words that might come from her.
“Riiiight, He Who Shall Not Be Named,” Serena scoffed, rolling her eyes with a grin as she skipped past Serena, plucking two clean cups from the rack and waving her card in front of the coffee machine’s chip reader almost at the same time.
“Anyway, it has nothing to do with
him
. Of course I keep up. I have to. It’s my job. How else am I supposed to know how to completely humiliate them on Twitter otherwise, huh?” Kimberley quipped back, hopping up to sit on the counter as Serena fussed around with the coffee.
That gave her a moment to pull out her phone again, only to see another message blinking on the notification bar.
PuckBear: Come on. I swear the weather’s really nice and you’ll see better hockey than those nits in Montreal can ever show you
MontrealSabres4Life: Cocky, aren’t we?
PuckBear: Me? Never. I don’t puck around with stuff like that
Kimberley was grinning like a fool when Serena plucked the phone out of her hands, dancing out of her reach as she read the exchange, laughing out loud when she reached the end.
“I knew it! It’s Pucky! Aww, you two are adorable together!” Serena laughed, handing the phone back just as Kimberley was about to throw herself off the edge of the countertop and tackle her like they worked in football and not the NSHL. “So that’s who you were giggling about all meeting.”
“Haven’t you ever heard of private property, Serena?” Kimberley asked with an exasperated sigh, tucking the phone into her back pocket as she accepted the steaming hot cup of cappuccino Serena handed her.
The little quirk of a smile still stayed on her pink lips though as they took seat on the flaming red couches nearby. She blew on the steaming liquid, cradling it with both hands, her green eyes doing their best to avoid Serena’s amused gaze. Okay, yes, so maybe she was feeling a little bit girlish about it all, and maybe, just
maybe
, every text from Pucky sent her quickly opening SassyDate and hungrily reading and re-reading every line he sent.
Was that such a bad thing?
Probably, if he’s in Idaho and you’re stuck in Montreal with Viper and her deathly glares,
she thought glumly.
“So, are you going to go?” Serena asked after a length of silence that apparently Kimberley was supposed to break, but had failed to.
“Go where?” Kimberley shot back, trying to remain blissfully ignorant.
“Idaho, duh.”
“Why would I go to Idaho?”
Okay, so it wasn’t working. It had been a valiant effort and Kimberley Thomas could pat herself on the back for giving it a go at denial
and
playing dumb. With a sigh, she took a sip of her coffee, preparing for the inevitable loss in this round of friendship Jenga.
“Because a possibly fuck-hot hockey player wants to take you out on a date and as far as I can tell, you don’t have anything better to do for a week than field tweets from disappointed fans and write press statements. Not exactly something you need to be in the office for.”
“Stella would never go for it,” Kimberley said with a shrug. “And! And, he isn’t even a pro. And I haven’t seen a full facial pic, just his chin and chest.”
“Which was totally dreamy,” Serena said with a grin. “Don’t lie, I saw it. He’s cute. No way he can’t be cute.”
“Yes, way! What if he’s missing all his teeth? Or he’s broken his nose fifteen times and now it’s at an upward angle?”
The excuses sounded good, but Kimberley was far too aware that injuries were a common thing in the sport she loved, and any guy worth their salt got themselves patched up at least well enough. And Pucky seemed like far too intelligent of a guy to just screw around with his health and looks. Not that physical appearances were everything.
But they’re definitely something,
she mused.
“What if! You’ll never know unless you go. If he’s a creep, you’ll fly back the same evening, or the next morning. Didn’t he offer you a ticket?”
“He did,” Kimberley said guardedly, trying to hide behind her coffee cup from Serena’s eager enthusiasm. “But I get free flights anyway if it’s hockey related. Seeing any team is ‘related.’ I could probably put together a fluff piece on the up and coming wannabes for a blog post or something…”
“Right! So go see him!” Serena squealed, clapping her hands together. “Oh, it’ll be beautiful! I bet you’ll have gorgeous skating-bear babies. Your wedding colors will be violet and ivory,” Serena said with a grin, moving her hand over her head like she was envisioning the entrance to the reception now, decked out in flowers and decorations.
“So we got from
maybe
going to see him play a game with his shitty local team, to having a purple and white wedding? You think you might be living vicariously through me right now, Serena?” Kimberley teased, though her heart wasn’t in it.
The pit of her stomach was doing somersaults and that was not something that aided with the whole staying calm and calculated thing that she’d been trying to play with Pucky over SassyDate chat. He’d popped up randomly over a month ago, making a lame joke about how her picture in which she was wearing a Sabre jersey made her look like she was rooting for the wrong team and he could show her a much better group to root for. Mainly himself.
It had been stupid and cute enough to warrant a half-hearted reply and since then, they’d been texting each other incessantly. It was cutesy and a little combative and entirely snarky… and Kimberley couldn’t get enough of it. Just then, her pocket buzzed again, jerking Kimberley out of her reverie and making Serena lean forward.
“Well?” she asked. “What does hockey boy say now?”
“He’s asking me how many more times does he need to ask me before I cave in and realize that I can’t live without him,” Kimberley said, shaking her head with a smile.
“That’s a perfectly warranted question,” Serena said, checking the time on her watch. “Shit, but I have to go now. I have a one-on-one with Serena. But trust me on this, as one friend to another, I haven’t seen you this excited about a guy since… well, ever. If he can make the Ice Queen of Montreal smile like that, he’s worth a visit. In and out, real fast, just go see a game. He won’t even have to know you’re there! If you don’t like what you see, get out of there before he spots you. Think about it!”
Serena hovered for a moment, one finger pointed at Kimberley and her eyes squinted in her best rendition of the best friend evil eye, until Kimberley grinned and nodded lightly.
“Fine, I’ll think about it. But no promises!”
“That’s all I needed!” Serena exclaimed, rushing to put her cup in the dishwasher and then practically springing out of the rec corner, leaving Kimberley all alone.
Setting down her mug on the coffee table, Kimberley put her attention to the phone again, scrolling through some older messages with Pucky. It was amazing how easily they connected. She’d been working for the Sabres for three years now, but she’d been a hockey fan all her life.
There was no lack of guys around to talk about her obsession, though the Los Angeles native had found settling in with the overtly friendly Canadians to be a bit of a chore when she first moved. But no one kept her interest or captured her imagination like the faceless guy behind a generic dating profile on SassyDate.
She knew he was a bear, obviously, and that he knew his stuff as far as hockey went. They could rattle off stats at one another for hours and then smoothly jump onto any other topic and find the conversation just as easy. They were texting daily now, flirting a little, and getting to know one another, and despite better judgment, Kimberley found herself entirely enthralled.
But what if he’s some crazed psycho who wants to chop your head off and put it on his mantelpiece as a trophy?
She rolled her eyes. Pucky wouldn’t do that. Nuh-uh.
But if he did have those tendencies, then Serena’s plan was brilliant. Just ask him casually about when and where he was having his next game and show up. His jawline wasn’t
that
distinctive, though definitely ruggedly handsome, but he had a picture up on his profile with a partial shot in training gear with his back turned, the makings of a tattoo on the back of his neck partially visible.
If fate didn’t immediately point him out, she could at least try and distinguish him based on that. Kimberley bit her lower lip.