Page 3 of One Goal in Mind

Campbell’s eyes widen, and it takes him a moment to respond.

I had no idea. I suppose it’ll get me out of cardio with Coach North at four tomorrow morning.

Rachel slides up beside me and coos, “Oh, look, it’s your new boyfriend.” I roll my eyes, but this Campbell guy is sinfully gorgeous, and my stomach has been doing little flips ever since my kiss cam debacle. “Here. I got you something.”

Rach hands me a bag and it only takes a quick peek to see what she bought me. “Where am I supposed to wear this?” I chuckle, shaking my head. “It’s not as if I can wear it to a game back home.”

“Why not? I’m sure they play Québec City at some point.” She shrugs. “Then again, I doubt there are many Vancouver fans there. They might kick you out.”

“They probably would,” I laugh. “It’s your birthday! I should be buyingyoua gift, not the other way around.”

She waves me off and we make our way out of the shop. “I showed the man my tits and he gave me a discount.” There’s a fifty-percent chance she’s telling the truth.

“Well, if that’s the case, you should’ve bought two.”

“I did!” Rachel reaches into her other bag, pulling out a jersey. “I wouldn’t dare wear your boyfriend’s number, so I got Beav’s. He’s a defenseman. You do know what a defenseman is, right?”

“Yes,” I lie. While I enjoy watching a game once in a while, I was the girl with her nose in a book when I was growing up, all the way through college. When I do see a game in person or on TV, I watch more for the fights than the game itself. “And he’s not my boyfriend! I’ve never even met him.” I smack her shoulder, and she giggles before putting on the oversized jersey. She gestures for me to do the same; I reluctantly shrug it on. “What do you say we get out of here and have a real dinner, maybe a properly made cocktail? A burger sounds amazing.”

“I know just the place.”

CHAPTER 2

RUSS

Coach North’s sister. Fuck. Me.

I’m not easily distracted during a game, but she reminded me of the girls I chased in college—dark brown hair tied up in some kind of haphazard bun, plastic-framed glasses, and didn’t appear to give a fuck about the game. At one point, I swear she was reading a book on her phone or ereader. My best guess is that she's a librarian or a coffee shop owner. My fucking kryptonite. I spotted her early in the first period, and couldn’t take my eyes off her. When the man who was clearly not with her tried to make a move, I snapped.

And now I have a name. Except... she’s off-limits.

Once I’m in my car, I can’t help myself, and pull up the internet browser on my phone for a quick search. She’s listed as a physical therapist for the Québec City Titans—a soccer team I know literally nothing about. Hell, I didn’t even know Québec City had a soccer team. I click on the site and scroll the staff directory until I find her. Fuck, this was a mistake. She’s stunning and smart?

But luck is on my side tonight; the siren doesn’t live here, and I’ll likely never see her again.

I plug my phone in and start the car, when there’s an incoming text from Berkeley, one of our D-men, though we all call him Beaver, Beav for short.

Beav

Are you up for going out tonight?

I’m fucking sore, but I’m starving.

Too sore for bunnies?

Honestly? Yeah.

More for me!

I shake my head, chuckling to myself, and he sends me a link to a bar a few miles away, with several beer options and burgers the size of your face. It’s close to the stadium, so we’ll likely be recognized, but I’d give just about anything to sink my teeth into a perfectly cooked burger right now.

Once I arrive, I spot him seated at the bar with a few open stools on either side of him. With a clap on his shoulder, I take a seat to his right. “Hey, Beav.”

“Hey! What took you so long?”

The bartender slides a menu in front of me, and I thank him with a nod before replying to Beav, “There wasn’t anywhere to park.”

“That’s why I took a rideshare.”

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