Goal Line
Camellia Tate
Copyright © 2020 Camellia Tate
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
YOUR SOULMATE WAS supposed to be the one person in the world who would accept you exactly as you were. At least, according to legend. There were plenty of people who didn’t believe that, but the romance novels and the love songs all talked about soulmates fitting together like perfect puzzle pieces, having no more arguments and not needing to make any more compromises. The science only went so far as to confirm that soulmate matches certainly seemed to be a thing.
That was hard to deny when everyone developed a soulmark during puberty. The size and location varied, but every person eagerly awaited that moment they’d wake up and find someone else’s name written on their skin. Some hoped for a common name - to increase their chances of meeting a person who went by it. Others thought a rare name would make it easier to track your soulmate down.
Either way, people who married partners with the ‘right’ name tended to last longer, and get divorced less frequently. Some argued it was because they believed in the myth, others insisted that it was because of higher compatibility. There was no way to know for sure.
Antonia Packard loved the idea of finding her soulmate. She felt like she’d been waiting her whole life to meet the man who’d actually take the time to get to know her, who’d love her for something more than her pretty green eyes and easy smile. And since the age of fifteen, she’d known who she was looking for: Devon.
It was an unusual name. Annie hadn’t known any boys named Devon in high school.
As soon as she was old enough, she’d signed up to a soulmate matchmaking service. They’d promised to match her with any men on their books called Devon. In the years she’d been with them, there had only been two.
Annie had tried so hard to make them work. Devon Card had been a Green Bay native, just like Annie, and only three years older. She’d genuinely thought he must be it. DC had broken her heart when he told her that he’d met another Annie, someone he could imagine a future with.
Annie still didn’t really understand why he hadn’t imagined a future with her.
Devon Michaels - Dev, to his friends - had been living in Michigan. They’d gotten to know each other slowly, trading emails and texts back and forth before Annie finally bought a plane ticket to go to see him.
In person, their chemistry had fallen completely flat. Their ‘breakup’ had been mutual.
So Annie was still signed up, but the agency hadn’t sent her anyone new in months. In the meantime, Annie dated around. Plenty of people were happy without a soulmate, including Annie’s own brother and his wife.
Annie struggled to imagine it. None of her non-Devon boyfriends had been much better. She wanted to keep looking.
At the same time, Annie wasn’t one of those desperate people who was going to put her search on reality television. As such, it didn’t take up all that much time. Annie checked her email in case there were any new alerts, then grabbed her handbag and headed out the door. She was meeting her new friend Jodie for skating and then lunch.
Except, when Annie got to the Madison ice rink, the woman behind the reception desk told her they were closed for training. Annie frowned.
“So what time are you opening?” she asked, fishing her phone from her bag to check her text messages.
“I’m afraid we’re not open for a public skate at all today,” the receptionist answered. That didn’t sound right at all. Annie might not be very good at getting places on time, but she didn’t ever get the day wrong.
Scrolling back through Jodie’s messages, they definitely said skating on Friday.
“There’s not another ice rink in Madison?” Annie asked. She’d only been living in town for a couple of months, but Madison didn’t seem big enough to have two ice rinks. Confirming Annie’s suspicions, the receptionist shook her head.
The winter wind outside was chilling. Annie wasn’t looking forward to going back out into it.
“Can I wait here while I make a phone call?” The receptionist looked dubious.
“You shouldn’t really be in here,” she said, lowering her voice. “Security is about to sweep through before they lock the doors.”
As she said it, a tall, broad man in black pants and a black polo shirt appeared through an interior door. Sensing an opportunity, Annie shot him her most winning smile.
“Hi!” she greeted. “I know, I know, your receptionist was just telling me I shouldn’t be in here. I promise, I’m not a crazy fan or anything, I just want to make a quick phone call from inside before I figure out where to meet my friend.”
Annie couldn’t be further from a crazy fan of the Madison Howlers ice hockey team. She’d been a lifelong Green Bay Mammoths supporter, and moving to Madison for work hadn’t changed that. How could it, when Annie’s dad owned the Green Bay team?
“So what do you say?” she asked the security guard. “You can watch me the whole time, I promise. I’ll even let you cuff me if I make a break for any of the players.”
“Saying that you’re not a crazy fan seems exactly like the sort of thing a crazy fan would say,” the man pointed out. Annie supposed she couldn’t really argue with that. “Also, I don’t have anything to cuff you with,” he added with a frown before looking over at the receptionist. “What about you, Lils, have you got any handcuffs?”
The receptionist gave him a very pained look. To Annie, it didn’t seem like this was the first time someone had asked her that. “Not on me,” she answered.
“Guess no handcuffing for you,” the man shrugged. “Who are you calling?” he asked. “Why are you here if you’re not here to be a crazy fan?”
“To use the ice rink,” Annie answered, staring up at the guard, communicating with her eyes that she thought that ought to be obvious. “You do have public skating a couple of times a week, I just got the wrong day.” Apparently. Or Jodie had got the wrong day. Annie really wasn’t the kind of person who would throw her friend under the bus, even when she wasn’t there.
Now that he was closer, Annie couldn’t help admiring the way the man’s shirt clung to his pecs. He looked a lot better than any security guard Annie had ever seen. He was guarding the Howlers. Ice hockey was a big deal in Madison, maybe it got the best that the security market had to offer.
He smelled good, too. Masculine in a way that made Annie lift a hand subconsciously to her hair, twining one dark lock around h
er finger.
“I was supposed to meet my friend to go skating, but since she’s not here, I need to call to ask where she wants to meet instead,” she answered. “I don’t care about your players, I promise.”
“Probably for the best. They’re all assholes anyway.” That made Annie frown. It didn’t seem like a very appropriate thing for someone employed by the Howlers to say. It made her give the guy a second look.
He wasn’t enormously tall, but still probably measured just under six feet. His hair looked a mess. Probably because it was still damp from a shower. The shirt he was wearing hugged the muscled arms well. Even with it draping somewhat loosely over his chest, Annie could tell there were beautiful muscles there too.
Unless the Howlers needed some very good security, this guy was not a security guard.
And yet, he hadn’t asked her to leave. He’d have been well within his rights to do so. Or to get Lils - Lily, Annie presumed - to call the actual security guards.
Annie’s heart gave an excited leap, a sort of rebellious thrill traveling all the way from her head to the tips of her toes. Her dad and brother had always told her to stay away from hockey players. In Green Bay, Annie hadn’t had very much choice. Every player there knew she was the owner’s daughter. The only ones who would have dared to flirt with her were exactly the kind of guy Annie knew she shouldn’t get involved with.
Here in Madison, things were different. Annie had always been curious about hockey players. They were so intense. It wasn’t a quality Annie felt she had. That made it all the more fascinating.
"Luckily for you, I'm not a crazed fan or a reporter. How would your management feel about you calling the rest of the team assholes to someone who might not get the joke?" She grinned, to show she wasn't a genuine threat. Annie knew how professional athletes chirped each other, she'd grown up around it.
“It’s not scandalous if it’s true,” the guy informed Annie, but she could see the tiniest tugs of amusement against his lips. Annie did wonder if he truly didn’t care. Honestly, that was a bit exciting, too. She knew hockey players were close, that the joking around was a huge part of bonding. It was easy to imagine how drama in the media about the players might take the chirping to the next level.
Before she had a chance to ask him if he really didn’t care, the guy held his hand out to Annie. “I’m Devon. You’ll need the name if you’re going to leak the story,” he informed her.
Annie’s eyes went wide, and she didn’t even try to stop them. A Devon, in the wild! She’d only ever met Devons when she’d been actively seeking them. Just running into one by pure chance felt like… well, it felt like something out of a cheesy pop song. Annie almost blushed.
“Annie,” she said, taking Devon’s hand automatically. It was only as his big fingers squeezed strongly against hers that Annie had time to think. If this was Devon, as in her soulmate Devon, then it wouldn’t be an ‘Annie’ he was looking for. “Antonia,” she corrected, “but no one calls me that.”
She tried to read his face, to see if there was a flicker of something. If her name was written somewhere on his body, then she would be able to tell, right? Except Devon just looked... intense. A focused look that Annie only ever really saw on hockey players’ faces.
He certainly held her hand for longer than Annie thought an uninterested man might’ve done. “So are you?” Devon asked. Annie had to blink because she had no idea what he was talking about. “Calling your friend,” he clarified, reading her facial expression correctly.
Annie bit her lip, feeling a little like a bad friend. Jodie had completely flown out of her head the moment Devon had told her his name. If not before then. Pulling her hand back, Annie looked up into his sharp ice-blue eyes and decided to take a risk.
“Not if I get a better offer,” she answered, her tone teasing. “There’s a coffee shop on the corner that does that best low-fat hot chocolate I’ve ever had. Will you come and have a cup with me? Maybe you can tell me more about what makes the rest of your team such assholes.” Annie was honestly curious. She also wanted an excuse to spend more time in Devon’s company.
Maybe meeting Devon like this meant something. Annie didn't trust in fate to do the work for her, but she wasn't about to ignore it when it came along.
His eyes widened slightly. Annie imagined it was because she’d asked him out. Men often seemed surprised when she made the first move. Not that Annie did it all the time, but she definitely wasn’t shy about asking out someone she liked. After all, if you wanted something, it was only right to go and get it.
“Sure,” Devon nodded making Annie’s smile widen. “But you’re buying, since you asked me out,” he informed her.
Annie laughed, tossing her hair over one shoulder as she did so. “Sure thing,” she agreed. She didn’t quite have the bank balance of a professional hockey player, but a couple of hot chocolates were hardly going to bankrupt her.
She tapped out a quick message to Jodie, letting her know they could go skating tomorrow, then let Devon hold the door for her as they made their way back out into the cold.
“So what position do you play?” Annie asked. “And why do you think the others are assholes?”
“I’m a goalie,” Devon answered. Annie wondered if she could have guessed that. The intensity in Devon’s eyes suddenly made a lot more sense. All the goalies she’d ever met were very focused, in pretty much everything they did. She’d wondered before what all the intensity would be like off the ice.
Goalies were also kind of odd. That just made Annie all the more excited to get to know Devon better.
Perhaps him being a goalie also answered her second question. “Some of them are okay, I suppose,” he informed her. “Maybe one or two,” he added more teasingly.
“It’s okay,” she said, lifting a finger to her lips, “I won’t tell any of them you said so. I know how locker rooms work. My brother played football in college.” Not that Annie had really gotten to know her brother’s team any better than she’d got to know the Mammoths. But at least she’d seen them around the house during the summer vacations.
The coffee shop was near enough that they could walk, so Annie confidently lead the way, casting occasional glances at Devon. He moved like an athlete, the power in his muscles obvious. What struck Annie was how he slowed down, never striding too far ahead of her shorter legs. She appreciated that.
“Did you have a good skate today?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “You know hockey? I guess not well enough to have known I’m a player,” Devon teased slightly. He had a point. Annie definitely didn’t know the Madison Howlers well enough to have known they had a Devon on their roster. And that was the sort of thing Annie usually did know about. Hockey was different, though.
She did know hockey, but Annie didn’t think it would be a good start of a date - and that was what this was, right? - to say that she supported a rival team. So Annie needed to come up with something else to say.
“I used to figure skate,” Annie answered, with a small shrug. “As a little girl, I mean.” Annie had given it up the first time she’d badly sprained an ankle trying to do a waltz jump. “I was around skating rinks a lot. My dad always told me to stay away from the hockey players.” She grinned. “I think he thought they were too rough for me to handle.” Which might have been true when Annie had been eleven. It certainly wasn’t true now.
Even then, she’d watched the players practice any chance she got. She loved their speed - even if their aggression had been somewhat frightening.
“I guess you grew up in rinks too,” she added. “Did your parents warn you away from all those dangerous ice dancers?”
That seemed to make Devon laugh. Annie felt pleased. It was always nice to make someone laugh, but it was especially nice if that someone was attractive. When Devon laughed, his whole face seemed to light up. Annie’s breath caught just a little bit. She would definitely need to make him laugh again.
“It was just me and my
mom, but no, she didn’t really warn me about dangerous ice dancers,” Devon answered. “But I guess she didn’t have to. If it wasn’t puck-shaped, I wasn’t going to notice it,” he shrugged. “Was ice skating not for you, then?”
Annie shrugged slightly. “I liked how graceful all the professionals looked, and the older girls when my dad would take me down to the rink to watch.” Annie had so desperately wanted to be one of them. Her dad had given in easily to her request to learn, but the lessons hadn’t been what Annie had expected. She hadn’t felt graceful. She’d mostly felt tired and sore, and quickly bored of trying to do the same thing over and over again without seeing any progress.
“Dad suggested that dancing on land might be more my style, so I tried that for a while.” She’d gotten on better because at least there had been no falling over. Annie wasn’t sure she remembered why she’d given up dancing, or what she’d moved on to. She did remember her dad telling her he hadn’t expected her to stick with it for very long.
“Dancing on land,” Devon repeated and Annie grinned. She did suppose it sounded weird, but she knew what she’d meant. From the way Devon nodded, he seemed to understand, too. “I have never been very good at dancing on land,” he told her. It wasn’t as much an admission as it was just a statement of fact. Annie wondered if that was because he’d been too focused on hockey instead.
Probably. Most hockey players she’d ever met were pretty focused on the game. Especially goalies. The thought made Annie look at Devon again. Even now, as they just walked to a coffee shop, his gaze looked so intense. He probably could have been very good at dancing on land if he’d put his mind to it.
“But you don’t do that either anymore,” he commented. It made Annie’s stomach turn almost uncomfortably. It was true that she’d given that up, too. Annie couldn’t quite tell if Devon was judging her for it.
She almost wanted to defend herself, to say that she didn’t have the temperament required to focus on one thing, the way she knew her dad and brother did. Except even in Annie’s head, it sounded… negative.
Goal Line (Madison Howlers #4) Page 1
