Off the Ice (Juniper Falls) - Softcover

Cross, Julie

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1633756556 ISBN 13: 9781633756557

Verlag: ENTANGLED PUB, 2017

Inhaltsangabe

All is fair in love and hockey...

Claire O'Connor is back in Juniper Falls, but that doesn't mean she wants to be. One semester off, that's what she promised herself. Just long enough to take care of her father and keep the family business--a hockey bar beside the ice rink--afloat. After that, she's getting the hell out. Again.

Enter Tate Tanley. What happened between them the night before she left town resurfaces the second they lay eyes on each other. But the guy she remembers has been replaced by a total hottie. When Tate is unexpectedly called in to take over for the hockey team's star goalie, suddenly he's in the spotlight and on his way to becoming just another egotistical varsity hockey player. And Claire's sworn off Juniper Falls hockey players for good.

It's the absolute worst time to fall in love.

For Tate and Claire, hockey isn't just a game. And they both might not survive a body check to the heart.

Each book in the Juniper Falls series is STANDALONE:
* Off the Ice
* Breaking the Ice

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

JULIE CROSS lives in central Illinois with her husband and three children. She never wrote fiction before May of 2009, but since then, hasn't gone a day without writing. She is the author of The Tempest Trilogy.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Off the Ice

A Juniper Falls novel

By Julie Cross, Liz Pelletier

Entangled Publishing, LLC

Copyright © 2017 Julie Cross
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-63375-655-7

CHAPTER 1

–TATE–

ONE YEAR LATER

I keep trying to sit down, but every time Northfield takes a shot, I'm up, twisting myself into position like I can actually stop a puck from here. It's impossible to watch a game from the bench where my glove and stick are completely useless. Especially after Mike Steller, our starting goalie, just let the Northfield Badgers score their second goal. In our first home game of the season.

Practically the entire town is packed into the arena right now. And after losing game one last week, the boosters and alumni have gone from smiling ass-kissers to using the stiff we'll give you one loss but that's it look. The place is so tense it's like the walls are closing in on us with every minute the opposition dominates.

The buzzer goes off, signaling the end of the second period. With a score of 2–0. Them.

I hold my breath and wait for Coach Bakowski's reaction. He flings his clipboard down the bench, and several of the guys on the team jump back.

"Goddammit, Steller!" Bakowski shouts. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Mike's skating up to the bench, his helmet tucked under his arm. If it were me, my gaze would be glued to the ice. But Steller's staring right back at Coach.

A silent argument seems to flow between them, and then Coach turns to the rest of us. "Get in the locker room, boys. Now!"

I stand up, start to follow my teammate Red, but catch Bakowski say to Mike, "You either get your head in this game or get out of my rink. I'm done with you and all your personal bullshit."

Red catches me eavesdropping and grabs the front of my jersey, pulling me away. We file into the locker room and, given the heavy silence, I can tell I'm not the only one who heard Bakowski's ultimatum.

Mike Steller's spot on the bench in front of his locker stays empty. I sit there rotating the stick in my hand, testing out my left arm — a habit more than a necessity; the bone is fully healed and has been since about a month into last season. But I have to keep myself busy, waiting for the door to swing open.

"This is bad," Jake Hammond, a junior, too, mumbles beside me.

Our senior captain, Leo, speaks up. "Steller may have let a couple of goals slip by, but that doesn't mean we can't score some of our own. Offense wins the game, right?"

Right. And the goalie loses the game.

Some grunts of encouragement follow Leo's pep talk, but they're cut off when the locker room door swings open. Coach Bakowski and his shiny black dress shoes, but no Mike Steller.

I glance beside me at Red.

Coach stops in the center of the locker room, folds his arms across his chest, and turns slowly in a circle. The dude is freakin' intimidating.

"You listen up, boys," he says. "We have one period left to play, and I swear to God if any of you even so much as thinks the name Mike Steller when our asses are on the line like this, don't even bother showing up at practice tomorrow. Got it?"

Wait ... if we aren't mentioning Mike, does that mean ...?

Red taps his stick against my skate and says, "Dude. You're in."

My heart pounds so loudly I'm sure everyone in the locker room can hear it. This is what I get for wishing earlier that I could play. I mean, I want to play, it's just ... fucking varsity.

"Tanley!" Coach swivels around quickly, stopping in front of me. "Number ten has a mean backhand, so watch out for that. Twenty-two likes to go high glove side."

Everyone in the arena will flip when they see me in goal instead of Mike. I can't be Mike Steller. Not yet. It isn't my turn.

Except it is.

Breathe, Tate. Just. Fucking. Breathe.

Coach goes over plays, tosses around insults and errors until everyone is wound so tight the guys practically explode off the benches and out of the locker room.

Me, on the other hand, I'm hoping for a minute alone so I can go barf up the thirty-two-ounce Gatorade I downed in the first period. I try to stall, but Coach grabs my helmet from the bench and shoves it into my chest.

"Let's go, Tanley, get warmed up. You ready?"

Fuck no. "Yeah, Coach. I'm ready!"

The whole walk out onto the ice is a blur, with a few moments of sharpened focus breaking through. Like passing by the Otters's Wall of Fame. I've seen these names a thousand times, but tonight they take on new meaning. Those guys walked down this same hall, suited up in JFH green and silver, then went on to play in the NHL, the Olympics, or for top NCAA teams.

My stomach twists into a tighter ball of knots. The cheering of the crowd, the familiar Otter chants, turns my attention far from the wall back to the ice.

I'm not sure I can do this. I mean, I knew I'd play in a varsity game eventually, but Steller's the senior. He's the one with college and NHL scouts watching. He's the one in the spotlight this season. Not me.

I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath. He'll be back. Mike will be back.

Except I don't actually know that for sure. He's been missing practices lately, and we lost last week. And there's his girlfriend and their —

Come on, Tate. Focus.

I can't hear the Otters radio broadcast from inside the arena — especially with all the loud chanting — but I hear the announcement inside my head, dictating the play-by-play for the rare few locals not here: Otters substitution, number forty-two Tate Tanley in for number ten Mike Steller. I'm not sure what Coach Bakowski is thinking bringing in a cold goalie when we're down by two goals. Let's hope he's got some magic planned.

In warm-ups, Hammond gets three shots past me, and even Red, who plays defense, sinks the puck low on my glove side. I can feel the crowd growing restless.

"Come on, Tanley, move!" Leo says after I miss his shot, too.

Jesus Christ, what the hell is wrong with me?

I stop to adjust my gloves and glance up into the stands — my mom's still in her nurse's scrubs. Roger is beside her with his five-year-old daughter, Olivia, on his lap. Roger, my new stepfather, whose boxed-up possessions are currently scattered all over my house.

And a couple of rows down from Mom and Roger, my ex-girlfriend is all cozy with a sophomore from JV.

I shift my gaze to the section where all the former Otters in town gather. At least my dad didn't show up today. Last week he popped in on our away game, and I had to put up with all the guys on the bench going on and on about how great Keith Tanley is.

Okay, enough looking up in the stands. Hockey. Ice. Puck. Glove.

But before I even have a chance to get my head on straight, the ref is blowing the whistle. Leo and Northfield's player face off and then a few passes later, the puck is sailing toward me. I manage to stop it, but my stick gets knocked out of my hand by my own defender and I can't clear the puck out. Luckily, Jake Hammond is ready and sends the puck flying past the blue line.

I let out a sigh of relief and hold my position while the guys make the other goalie work a little. After a killer pass from Hammond, Leo blows the doors off the opposing goalie with a wicked slap shot from the point. And the Juniper Falls Otters are officially on the scoreboard!

Over the next ten minutes, my teammates help me out, clearing the puck when I'm in the wrong place. Even after we've managed to tie up the...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: ENTANGLED PUB
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2017
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 1633756556
• ISBN 13: 9781633756557
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 370
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Nicht verfügbar