See Jane Score by Rachel Gibson

wild to almost orderly. Almost . Just when Jane thought both teams had decided to play nice, the scrum for the puck turned physical. And nothing brought the crowd to their feet like the sight of players throwing their gloves and mixing it up in the corner. She couldn’t actually hear what the players were saying to each other, but she didn’t need to. She could clearly read their lips. The F-word seemed a real favorite. Even by the coaches who stood behind the bench in mild-mannered suits and ties. And when the players on the bench weren’t swearing, they were spitting. She’d never seen men spit so much.
    Jane noticed that the heckling from the crowd was not limited to the Chinooks’ goalie. Anytime a Seattle player came within hollering distance, the men behind Jane yelled, “You suck!” After several Budweisers, they got more creative: “You suck, eighty-nine,” or thirty-nine, or whatever the player’s number.
    Fifteen minutes into the first period, Rob Sutter checked a Coyote into the boards, and the Plexiglas shook so hard Jane thought it would crack. The player slid to the ice and the whistles blew.
    â€œYou suck, Hammer,” the men behind Jane yelled, and she wondered if the players could hear the fans over the collective noise. She knew she’d have to drink a lot of alcohol before she had the courage to tell the Hammer he sucked. She’d be too afraid he’d meet her in the parking lot later and “feed her lunch.”
    After the first two periods, the score remained zero–zero, mostly due to some amazing saves by both goaltenders. But the Coyotes came out strong in the third. The team’s captain broke through the Chinook defense and sped down ice toward the Chinooks’ goal. Luc came out of the crease to meet him, but the captain snipered a shot passed his left shoulder. Luc got a piece of it with his stick, but the puck waffled and sailed into the net.
    The crowd jumped to their feet as Luc skated to the goal. He calmly placed his stick and blocker on top of the net. As the blinking blue light announced the goal, he pushed his mask to the top of his head, picked up his water bottle, and shot water into his mouth. From where Jane sat, she watched him in profile. His cheek was slightly flushed, his damp hair stuck to his temple. A stream of water ran from the corner of his mouth, down his chin and neck, and wet the collar of his jersey. He lowered the bottle, tossed it on the cage, and shoved his hand into his blocker.
    â€œEat me, Martineau!” one of the men behind her yelled. “Eat me!”
    Luc glanced up and one of Jane’s questions was answered. He’d clearly heard the men behind her. Without expression of any sort, he simply looked at them. He picked up his stick and lowered his gaze until it landed on Jane. He stared at her for several long seconds before he turned and skated to the Chinooks’ bench. Jane couldn’t tell what he thought of the two men, but she had bigger concerns than Luc’s feelings. She crossed her fingers and hoped like hell the Chinooks made a goal within the next fifteen minutes.
    We have to remember we’re dealing with hockey players. You know they can be real superstitious, Leonard had warned. If the Chinooks start losing games, you’ll get blamed and sent packing. After the way they were already treating her, Jane figured they didn’t need much of an excuse.
    It took them fourteen minutes and twenty seconds, but they finally scored on a power play. When the last buzzer sounded, the score was tied, and Jane let out a relieved breath.
    Game over, or so she thought. Instead five more minutes were put on the clock, while four skaters and the goaltenders battled it out in overtime. Neither team scored and the game went into the record book as a tie.
    Now Jane could breathe easy. They couldn’t blame her for their loss and send her packing.
    She gathered her purse and shoved her