Bear Meets Girl

CHAPTER SEVEN

One of the Slammers cut across the ice, heading right for Novikov. Cella shoved past the winger in her way and went after him, but she didn’t think she’d reach him in time.

“Reed!” she called out. “Move!”

As a canine, the hillbilly took orders pretty well, and shot in front of the player, blocking him from getting near Novikov.

She reached her teammate and blocked another player, ramming him into the glass by using her legs to launch her body at the guy. They both hit the glass and then dropped to the ice. She was ready to pull off her gloves and take the guy on since he was calling her all sorts of things she found insulting, but the crowd roared, signaling a successful goal, and the end buzzer went off.

Cella got to her feet and skated away from the other player, but kept her eyes on him as she did.

“Bitch,” the maned wolf sneered.

“Loser,” Cella shot back, laughing as one of her teammates picked her up around the waist and carried her off the ice before she started another all-team brawl.

She kind of had a reputation for doing that.

Once off the ice, her teammate—Bert!—let her go, shaking his head and chuckling.

They all marched back to their respective locker rooms and Cella slapped hands and laughed with her female teammates before jumping in the shower and washing off all the blood from the game. When she headed back to her locker, she found Jai waiting for her.

Cella grabbed a dry towel. “Hey. What’s up?”

“How’s your knee?” Jai asked.

“Fine.”

“Are you lying to me?”

“No. It’s fine. See?” She pointed to her weak left knee before going back to towel-drying her hair. Thankfully, the swelling hadn’t started yet, although it would swell. It always did after a game.

“Put some ice on it anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“Don’t yeah, yeah, yeah me. Just do as I tell you.” Jai checked her clipboard. “I gotta go. I’ve got some artery repair to deal with. I swear”—she shook her head and held her clipboard to her chest—“Novikov is so mean. Got a guy bleeding out in surgery.”

Cella stood up straight, flipping her hair off her face. “Then maybe you should ... you know ... take care of him?”

Jai rolled her eyes. “He’s just a coyote.”

“Jai!” God, the mountain lions ... such bigots when it came to the canines, especially the coyotes and wolves.

“I’m going, I’m going. Had to check on you first, right?”

“Cella!” someone called out. “Your dad is outside. Along with some polar bear. Said they’re waiting for you.”

“Tell them I’ll be out in a bit.”

“Polar bear?” Jai asked, still letting that coyote bleed out in her surgery.

“Yeah. He’s that guy I woke up naked with at MacDermot’s house.”

The other females stopped dressing and focused on Cella.

“I didn’t fuck him,” Cella added. Then she grinned. “At least not yet.”

“Oh, that’s classy,” Jai chastised.

“Man. Bleeding. Needs surgery.”

Jai sighed. “Well, if you’re going to get pushy about it ...”

Cella shook her head and grabbed her cell phone from inside her locker. She speed-dialed her daughter’s number and waited for the brat to answer.

“Hi, Ma.”

“Hey, baby. You all right?” She made sure to check in on Meghan after every game. Although, she didn’t know why she bothered. The kid always seemed so put out.

“I’m fine.” Then Cella mouthed along with her daughter’s next word, “Studying.”

Of course, she was. “Well, I shouldn’t be too late tonight.”

“And that affects me how?”

“Could you at least pretend to care if I come home? Would it kill you?”

“It’s not that I don’t care. I’m just at the college library with Josie. It’s open late. Uncle Tommy’s picking us up when we’re done and then Josie and I are spending the night at Aunt Kathleen’s.”

“Why?”

“Babysitting some cousins. Now, did you kill anyone tonight or did you allow them all to make it out alive?”

“No, smart-ass. I didn’t kill anyone.” With the phone caught between her raised shoulder and ear, Cella pulled on a pair of panties and then a pair of grey sweatpants.

“Then just your usual mayhem?”

“Can’t disappoint the fans.” She reached for a bra. “Hey, I was thinking—”

“No.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“Okay. Finish.”

“I thought we could go and get a mani-pedi and our hair—”

“No.”

“Again, you didn’t let me finish and why not?”

“I’ve got too much to do.”

“You’re seventeen, not forty working for a Fortune 500 company. Get over yourself.” Cella tugged her bra until it fit perfectly, then said, “I don’t know where you got this haughty, superior, ‘I’m better than everyone’ attitude you’ve draped yourself in but ...” Cella’s words faded away when she realized that her female teammates were hysterically laughing at her.

“You don’t know?” one sow bellowed over all the laughter. “How could you not know?”

“Anything else, Ma, or can I leave you to the comedy stylings of your teammates?” Smug and ungrateful. That was the kid Cella had been cursed with.

“I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Cella disconnected the call and roared at her teammates, but that only made them laugh harder.

“So when are you coming to the Island to meet the rest of the family?”

Crush froze. He wanted to scream, “Never!” But he knew that would be a bad idea. They were now in the hallway outside the locker rooms and it was packed with family and friends of the Carnivores and word seemed to have already spread that he was, somehow, the boyfriend of Bare Knuckles. A player he considered kind of reprehensible since she seemed to fight more than skate.

“Uhhhh ... that’s up to your daughter?”

“Well, make it soon.” Nice Guy gave a small shrug. “Trust me on this.”

Not sure what he was talking about and, to be honest, not really caring, Crush said, “Sure. Will do.” It was the same answer he gave his bosses when he didn’t know what they were talking about and didn’t care.

The Marauder came out of the locker room, his well-known and vicious scowl leading the way. With that expression on his face, you’d think the team had lost. But they hadn’t. Although, they had barely won.

Still, there seemed to be one thing that could make the Marauder smile no matter what, and she was skating toward him on those skates with four wheels, bruises on her face and drops of blood on her tank top.

Blayne skated her way through the crowd and threw herself into his arms. Novikov lifted her up, hugging her close.

“You were the best!” Blayne cheered. Crush noticed that the wolfdog seemed to cheer a lot. Was she a cheerleader in high school?

“Did you even see the game?” Novikov asked, his smile still there.

“What does that have to do with anything? You’re always the best.” She hugged the behemoth again and then she spotted Crush. “Hi, Crush!”

Although Crush wasn’t much of a smiler, he couldn’t help himself around her. She was just so damn cheerful. “Hiya, Blayne.”

She smiled, peeking over at Nice Guy, and observed, “I see Malone made it up to you.”

“Yeah, she did.”

Blayne leaned in a bit, her arms still around the Marauder, and whispered loudly enough to be heard ten miles away, “You look so good with your haircut! Isn’t Gwenie the best?”

“Yes, she is.” He motioned to her bruised face. “Fistfight?”

“Nope. Derby training.”

“Looks tough.”

Novikov snorted. “Chicks in shorts. It’s terrifying.”

“Shut. Up.” Blayne looked back at Crush and asked with all sincerity, “And why didn’t you tell me you’re Cella’s boyfriend?”

Even though Crush wasn’t and he was definitely freaked out that the rumor had already spread past the hockey players and, it seemed, throughout the Sports Center, the bear in Crush still had to ask, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would I tell you that?”

“Because we’re friends!”

“We are?”

“Ya are now,” Novikov muttered.

“Of course, we are. I like you.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Please,” Novikov suddenly cut in, “don’t use bear-logic on her. It’s completely ineffectual and brings on tears when she gets frustrated. Just accept she likes you and go about your day.”

“Is that what you do?”

“As her father says, ‘There are always bigger battles ahead.’ ”

“You know,” Blayne snapped, “I am right here listening to both of you.”

Malone walked out of the women’s locker room. She wore grey sweatpants and a white T-shirt, her hair and body freshly washed, all her wounds and bruises tended. Crush watched Malone go up on her toes and look over the crowd. When she spotted them, she came over.

“Hey.”

“You did great, baby.” Her father hugged her.

“Thanks, Daddy. You going out now?”

“Just for a few drinks with the boys. Gotta get home to your mom. What about you two?” He smiled. “Big plans?”

“You bet.” She kissed her father on the cheek. “See you later.”

Nice Guy Malone held his hand out and Crush shook it. “It was really nice meeting you, Lou.”

“You, too, sir.”

“Call me Butch.” With a wink at his daughter, Mr. Malone walked off.

Cella kept smiling until her father was in the elevators and gone. Then she faced Crush and said, “So what do you wanna do tonight?”

“Uh—”

“Cella!”

Malone looked over her shoulder and smiled at the tiger male who came to her side. He wasn’t nearly as big as Butch. Crush was guessing he wasn’t Siberian, either.

“Hey. What are you doing here?”

“I was a block up meeting with a client.”

“Lou Crushek,” she said, “this is Brian Carpenter. My daughter’s father.”

Startled, but having trained years not to show it, Crush nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

“And before you ask, Bri, I’m not discussing wedding plans with you.”

“Fine. Bachelorette party then.”

“I’m definitely not discussing that with you.”

“No strippers, Cella.”

“Oh, come on!”

“No. Strippers. I mean it. Are we clear?”

“You really just came over here to tell me that?”

“Why else would I come over here? To watch my daughter’s mother get the shit beaten out of her? I can see that during family get-togethers. Now say it with me ... no strippers. Male or female.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

The tiger smiled. “Thanks, beautiful.” He kissed her cheek and gave her a quick hug. “Gotta go.”

“And don’t forget about tomorrow. We gotta come to an agreement about what we’re going to get baby girl for her birthday so they can deliver it by Sunday.”

“I thought we already decided.”

“We did not decide.”

“Maybe I already decided.”

“Really? You wanna go that route with me? Really?”

“You’re being difficult.”

“I’m always difficult. That’s what you love about me.”

“Yeah. Right.”

He walked off and Malone faced Crush. “So, about tonight—”

“I’m going home.”

“Oh.” And she had the nerve to look surprised. “Okay. Well ... I hope you had a good time.”

That Crush couldn’t lie about. “I had a great time. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. I hope I get to see you around some time.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Crush walked away from her, heading toward the elevators, and home.

“Man, does that guy run hot and cold.” She faced Novikov and Blayne. “At the very least you’d think he’d want to sleep with the ‘Bare Knuckles’ Malone.”

Shaking her head and throwing her hands up in the air, Blayne let out a big, overdramatic sigh.

“What’s that for?”

Unable to speak—which was amazing for Blayne—she motioned to Novikov.

“What?” Cella pushed.

“You’re really surprised he left?” Novikov asked.

“Yeah. I wore these sweats on purpose—they make my ass look great. I have a beautiful smile—as always. And we had a great game.”

“We had an okay game,” Novikov felt the need to correct. Cella balled her fingers into fists and he waved the correction away. “Forget I said anything.”

“I will. So explain to me what I did wrong with Mr. Uptight.”

Blayne lunged forward, forefinger jabbing dangerously, but Novikov pulled her back and held her with one hand.

“I’ll run it down for you. You introduced that tiger as your daughter’s father.”

“Bri is her father.”

“You discussed your gift-giving plans.”

“It’s Meghan’s eighteenth on Sunday and we’re planning to give her a car, but we have to figure out which one. Something sporty or something reliable? I’m thinking sporty.”

“Right. You also briefly talked about wedding plans and a bachelorette party.”

“My mom is the planner for Bri’s wedding here and I’m maid of honor in the States so I’m handling that bachelorette party for Rivka. I still don’t see the problem.”

“That’s because you’re looking at each thing individually when you should be stepping back and taking in the whole discussion. Then pretend for five seconds that you’re a normal person rather than, ya know, you, and think about how a normal person would see that whole thing without having any context whatso—”

“Oh, my God!”

Novikov nodded. “Exactly.”

Crush neared the front door of the Sports Center, the full-humans instinctively moving out of his way, when the feline suddenly cut in front of him. She slapped her hand against his chest, stopping him from going any farther.

“It’s not my wedding.”

Crush frowned. “Pardon?”

She took a breath—she must have run all the way up—and repeated, “It’s not my wedding. He’s father to my child, but he’s not marrying me. He’s marrying someone else completely.”

“And will he get custody?”

“Custody of who?”

“The child that can barely reach the stove, but you leave alone for hours?”

“Barely reach the ... You mean Meghan?” She laughed. “Meghan’s seventeen.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Seriously, I was joking. You have heard of jokes, right?”

“Thought jokes were supposed to be funny.”

“It helps if one has a sense of humor.” She patted his chest. “But with some work and care, I’m sure I can give you one.”

“No thanks.”

Startled, she took a step back. “You’re not going to give me a chance to prove I’m a wonderful person?”

“You already think you’re a wonderful person. What do you need me for?”

She dropped her hands to her hips, squinting up at him.

“What?”

“I’m trying to figure out if you’re just a dick or if you’re really an uptight, overthinking good guy?”

“How about I make the decision for you.”

Crush stepped around her and walked out, determined to get away from this insane feline. And, as the door closed behind him, Crush heard her bark, “Well I guess it’s just you being a dick then, huh?”