“Who said I didn’t like him?”

“You said you screamed at him that he sucked.”

“Because I’m his toughest fan.” Phil lifted his hands up as if what he was telling her was somehow obvious to the entire universe. “Which is way better than being just his most loyal or whatever. Right, Mitch?”

“Absolutely.”

Disgusted, Blayne said, “The man is a total asshole. He fights with his own teammates. During a game! Who does that?”

“I don’t care if he beats his entire team to death,” Mitch said, disgusting Blayne even more, which she didn’t think was possible. “As long as he keeps winning for teams I support.”

“This isn’t about Dallas again, is it?”

“He should have never joined that team. It was the ultimate betrayal.”

Blayne looked down the table at Jess, crossing her eyes, because, yes, she’d lived through this ridiculous Philly Shifter argument before.

“Hey,” Mitch leaned in. “Since you know the guy, maybe you can hook me up with a signed jersey.”

“I don’t know the guy and I’m not getting you shit.”

“It’s like you don’t love me at all.”

“I don’t.”

“Fine. Be that way. But you can still get me a jersey.”

“Two,” Phil added. “Two signed jerseys.”

“I’m not getting either of you anything.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because Bo Novikov represents everything that’s wrong in shifter sports.” She began to count off on her fingers, “No sportsmanship. No team spirit. No mentoring rookie or young players.”

“You’re so naïve!” Mitch cried out in his usual dramatic fashion. “High morals don’t make you a champion. And,” he added, “it’s because of this attitude that Gwenie’s probably going to make you second string for the championship bout against the Texas Longfangs, so she can bring in Pussies Galore from the Jamaica Me Howlers.”

Her hands dropping into her lap, Blayne asked, “What?”

Mitch, most likely realizing how quiet everyone had suddenly become, looked around the table before focusing on Blayne. “Gwen, uh, did mention that to you, didn’t she?”

Phil relaxed back in his chair. “I’m guessing not.”

Blayne shoved her chair back and stood, Mitch grabbing her arm. “Wait! I’m probably wrong. I’m sure—”

“It isn’t that she would make that decision,” Blayne snarled, yanking her arm out of Mitch’s grip, “it’s that she would talk to you about it before me.” She swiped up her backpack and spun to leave, pulling the straps of her bag over her shoulder at the same time. And, yeah, she kind of knew she hit Mitch in the process, sending him flying into the middle of the dining table. Too bad she couldn’t bring herself to care!

Ignoring the wild dogs calling her back to the table, she went to the front door and yanked it open. The grizzly on the other side jerked back.

“Oh. Hey, Blayne.” Lock MacRyrie smiled down at her. “I brought Sabina her damn chest of drawers so I don’t have to hear her asking me for it anymore.”

“Gwen with you?”

Lock’s smile faded and he motioned behind him. “Yeah. She’s—”

Blayne pushed past the bear and went down the front stairs to the still running pickup Lock used to deliver his handmade furniture. She knocked on the window and Gwen, grinning, rolled down the window.

“Hey, girl! I didn’t know you were going to be here today.”

“Wild dog brunch.”

“You and your breakfast food obsession.” Gwen rested her arm on the window. “So what’s up?”

“So . . . Pussies Galore as your blocker, huh?”

Gwen’s gold eyes grew wide, her expression stunned. “Blayne, wait. It’s just—”

“No. No. No need to explain. She rocks. I’ve seen her play.”

“Blayne—”

“And the Longfangs are really tough. Tougher than me, apparently. So I understand.”

“Blayne, we’re not replacing you, but this is the championships, hon. We need a little bit of an edge.”

“An edge I don’t have.”

“You’re too damn nice,” Gwen stated bluntly. “You’re constantly apologizing to the other team, and you hold yourself back because you don’t want to hurt anybody. So yeah,” she said, getting pissed, “I guess you don’t have that edge we need.”

Blayne stepped back from the truck. She knew she couldn’t say anything at the moment because she’d start what her dad called, “All that goddamn blubbering.”

“Blayne, wait.”

Gwen unlocked the door and pushed it open, but Blayne rushed off. She needed to figure out what she was going to do next. She may be “nice”—something she refused to see as a curse—but that didn’t mean she was weak. And she would never give up something she’d worked so hard to get.

No. There had to be a way to prove them all wrong. To prove that she wasn’t just the Babes resident “cheerleader.” A title she’d loved until this very moment.

Yeah. She’d prove them all wrong.

CHAPTER 4

Bo glanced at his watch. Eight a.m. Time to hit the treadmill.

He left the ice, waving at a couple of the maintenance guys who knew him by name and went to the locker room. He changed out of his hockey gear and into sweats and sneakers. Locking up everything, he checked his watch again and jogged out of the locker room and down several floors. Bo pushed the door open, waved at a couple of other maintenance men who knew him by name, and headed to the massive gym that every team player, no matter the sport or whether they were on a minor or major league team, had access to. He wasn’t rushing his run since this was a warm-up but was about to pick up the speed before charging into the gym and jumping on a treadmill, when a frustrated groan and a sniffle caught his attention. So did the scent.