A Bear Goal Read Online Free Page B

heard from Sable in more than a week now. And he couldn’t think about anything that wasn’t directly related to the little minx who had made his head spin more than a week ago in San Diego, and who had since been very, very talented at ignoring the fact he existed altogether. Which wouldn’t have really been a problem if he could have managed to think about anything other than her since their little quickie in the supply closet.
    “It’s this damn jersey. It’s like a size too small. And some of the guys had to grab their personal sticks, long retired, because we didn’t have enough gear, and half the stuff came in at wrong sizes.”
    “Yeah, the supply team’s been fucking up hardcore,” Cannon agreed, before the whistle sounded and they could jump on the ice again.
    Truth be told, the Shovelers didn’t really have a supply team. Most of their organization was in shambles since the team had gotten suddenly moved from Chicago to the small Idaho town, and frankly, thinks weren’t looking that promising in regard to the “ecosystem” that every team needed.
    While the players were getting better and better—Coach’s wise assumptions on the fact that some wilderness and fresh air would do them good and help them connect with their shifter sides—everything else had been going steadily downhill. The ice rink, the Shifter Grove Ice Arena, was finally finished, placed a good ten miles outside of Shifter Grove in hopes of keeping the bustle at least somewhat out of the small town when the Shovelers were playing local games, but without a dedicated team to run the place, it was really only a giant hockey rink and that was that.
    Many of the people who’d comprised the Chicago Bluehawks support squad in Chicago had chosen not to move along with the players, and it left some very visible and palpable holes in the organization that were yet to be filled. Luckily for Heath, he was too busy obsessing about Sable to really notice these things.
    He cracked his shoulders as he took to the ice, finding his spot so Cannon could pass him the puck at the first opportunity and he could try stealing another goal. But his heart wasn’t in it, and as he had done during the first two thirds, he was doing it again now—scanning every face in the crowd for Sable. His auburn-haired girl, though he had a few rude words in mind about her, considering the way she’d been ignoring him.
    He’d found her number the very next morning, swiping it away from the Predators’ organization thanks to one well-placed call and pretending to be someone on the Shovelers’ team needing to get in touch with her about gear logistics for the upcoming two games in Shifter Grove. She’d picked up at once but the moment she’d recognized who he was, she’d started obviously screening his calls.
    But Heath hadn’t been driven away. Oh no. Her playing coy only made him go harder. So he found her on SassyDate and got ignored. And then he’d gotten her address much the same as he had the phone number and he’d been bombarding her with flowers and thoughtful little gifts every damn day and still, still the woman would not take his calls.
    She’s making you go crazy. Snap out of it.
    Far easier said than done, it would appear.
    Heath shook his head, trying to clean the cobwebs out and give the game the attention it deserved. He burst into movement and a few tense seconds later, he stole the puck from a Predators’ defender. Gritting his teeth, Heath dove across the ice toward the Predators’ goal, but the slightest flash of brown eyes in the stands caught his attention and he almost head-butted into one of the Lynderly brothers.
    Suffice to say, the puck got stolen from him and the woman he’d noticed had definitely not been Sable.
    “Watch where you’re going, asshat,” Cayman snarled, his eyes flashing gold.
    Usually, this sort of response would have made Heath raring to go, taunting the other guy until he’d crack and do something stupid. But