Crossing The Goal Line. Kim Findlay

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СКАЧАТЬ testy at the game, but he wasn’t sure if that was the kids, or him, or maybe she just didn’t like hockey. He decided he was going to find out.

      He’d heard of love at first sight, but this was the first time he’d seen it happen, right in front of him. Bridget had come out, checking her phone, not even noticing him. Then when she’d looked up, she seemed annoyed. But as he’d waited, her expression softened, a small smile turned up the corners of her mouth and she moved forward as if drawn by an irresistible force.

      Mike watched as she closed in on him...and then passed him...staring at his car. She brought one hand up, as if to touch it, then dropped it again.

      She shook her head, and looked back at him. “A P1?”

      Mike raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Yes.”

      He watched as she completed her circuit of his car. Not everyone would recognize a McLaren, or know which one he had. He’d impressed people with this car, mostly when they realized what it cost, but he’d never been ignored for it. He didn’t like that. It was a nice car, even a beautiful one, but still it was just a car. Maybe he’d been spoiled. People noticed him. They might think he was slime crawling out from under a rock, or they might think he was a hockey god, but they didn’t ignore him.

      With a sigh, she finally tore her gaze away, and saw him standing there, waiting.

      “If I won a lottery...” she said dreamily. “Brian wants an Aston Martin, and Patrick a Ferrari, but this—she’s exactly what I’d choose.”

      Mike didn’t know who Brian and Patrick were, and he didn’t much care. He’d decided this had been a mistake, so he’d ask about the kids and the game and get out of there. If he wanted his ego stepped on further, he could just walk down Yonge Street.

      “So, the kids all got home safely?” he asked.

      Her eyes narrowed. “Yes,” she answered tersely.

      What was her problem?

      “I hope everyone enjoyed it,” he persisted.

      “I think the kids enjoyed the hats and the popcorn more than the game. There weren’t that many players they knew.” She paused for just a moment. “Turchenko seemed to be doing well.”

      Mike was tired of hearing how well Turchenko was doing. The guy had played well for the half of the game he’d been in. He also hadn’t been challenged that much. Mike knew, though, that a lot of people, including most of his teammates and the fans in Toronto, hoped he’d win the starting job and leave Mike to warm the bench.

      He was determined that wasn’t going to happen. So his response was not very diplomatic.

      “Of course, everyone likes Turchenko. He’s blond and blue-eyed and flirts with—”

      “Right, because I care only about the way he looks. I couldn’t possibly understand hockey with my poor female brain,” Bridget spit out.

      Mike hadn’t meant that. He’d been raised by a strong woman who’d used her brains and hard work to deal with being pregnant and stranded at sixteen. He’d been going to say that Turchenko flirted with the press, not women, but Bridget had reacted like an angry cat. Her eyes were flashing, her freckles almost obscured by her heated cheeks, and he could swear her very hair was vibrating with anger. It was fascinating.

      Walter had said she had a temper, and Mike was obviously getting a look at it. He was tired and irritated, and glad he wasn’t the only one out of sorts. Instead of answering diplomatically, he decided to poke the bear.

      “A lot of people think they understand hockey, but it’s different when you’re actually playing it.”

      Yep, Mike thought. Her hair is vibrating.

      “Okay, come with me,” she snarled. She stomped over to the Mazda. She unlocked the door and looked back. “Get in, hot shot.”

      “In that?” Mike responded, looking from his pride and joy to the car Bridget was halfway into.

      “Afraid of a girl?”

      The bear was well and fully poked. Those eyes were almost lasering through him. With a shrug, he swung himself around the car and opened the passenger door. He’d barely folded himself in when a blast of rap music assailed his ears and Bridget tore out of the parking lot.

      Mike propped his hand against the roof of the little car to keep from falling on Bridget as she down shifted for the turn. He should have known that anyone who fell for his car the way she had would drive a stick. And skillfully, too, though she was going a little too fast for safety.

      “Okay, now that you’ve got me, where are we going?” he yelled over the music.

      “To play hockey!”

      Mike wedged himself against the door. He didn’t know what she had in mind, but this was more fun than he’d had in a while.

       CHAPTER TWO

      SHE OBVIOUSLY KNEW the way well, and as she took another side street, he realized he was lost. But they finally pulled up in front of a brick two-story on a dead-end street. Bridget pulled out the keys, and Mike welcomed the sudden silence as the “music” stopped in mid-phrase. She slammed out of the car and stalked up the driveway before unlocking the garage door and sliding it open.

      Inside was hockey gear. A moment passed. Then he realized that when she said they were going to play hockey, she hadn’t meant on a screen or table. She wanted to play road hockey. He almost laughed. Sure, she was a good swimmer, but did she really think she could take on a professional hockey player?

      Apparently, she did. She was dragging a net down the driveway. Mike opened the door and got out of the car. As she set up the net on the street, he noticed that the block was perfect for playing road ball. Originally, the plan must have been for the street to extend further; the pavement stretched out another fifty feet then dead-ended at a chain-link fence and an abandoned parking lot. There were pink and blue lines marked in chalk. This was a well-used space for road hockey. He’d have loved access to something like this when he was growing up.

      “Go get some gear on,” she ordered.

      “Seriously?”

      “Chicken?” she asked.

      Mike laughed. He felt like a seven-year-old being dared.

      “So what position am I supposed to play?”

      “I thought you were a goalie,” she taunted.

      Challenge accepted, Mike thought. He wasn’t sure what she thought she was trying to prove, but he could handle a girl in road ball, even if his game had been off lately. He’d better be able to...

      He followed her back to the garage where there was an impressive amount of gear for both road and ice hockey. She pointed to a pile of goalie equipment, and he picked through for the largest pads he could find, then tested a couple of sticks before settling on one. She tossed him a helmet, and he put it on. It wasn’t anything like his own, but if she managed to fire a ball at his face, he was sure there’d СКАЧАТЬ