Disclaimer - I do not own anything even remotely related to The Mighty Ducks. I only wish I had thought of them first…

Italics indicate character thought.

Book tours overseas were always a little strange for Beau. This was her second, and she was finding it to be very much the same as the first. There was definitely a smaller response to the books in Europe, so the signings were much more civilized. She still wasn't quite sure if she liked it or if she missed the chaos.

"Thank you so much!" The little boy in front of her was maybe seven and was currently clutching his signed copies of all five of her books to his chest, just barely able to hold them. His mother, her accent soft and gentle, smiled gratefully.

"Miles loves your books, Miss Mayland. You have no idea how excited he was when the last one came out and the main character shared his name. We've read them all," she looked up, rolling her eyes, "more times than I am able to count, but I would bet that I am able to recite most of them from memory."

Beau laughed, placing a hand over her mouth. "Oh I am so sorry!"

The woman laughed as well, smoothing her hair. "Please do not apologize. It could be far worse. Miles could be obsessed with any of that other dribble that is out there that they call children's books. At least yours are enjoyable."

Beau nodded, distracted by the man behind her current partner in conversation. He was squinting his eyes at her and she was absolutely sure that she recognized him…but how? Shaking her head she smiled back at Miles and his mother. "Well, I will certainly take that compliment. Miles, thank you for being such a devoted fan."

Grinning ear to ear Miles walked approximately two feet before dropping every single book he was carrying. Sighing the sigh of mothers everywhere, the woman bent down to help him, sighing again when he insisted that he could carry everything himself. Beau laughed again and turned her attention to the last person in line. He was still standing there, squinting down at her.

Beau smiled, squinting right back up at him with a hint of recognition tickling her brain. He was average height, with a stocky build. His dark hair and skin and his giant smile were triggering a memory when it suddenly hit her. She stood up abruptly, smiling, a hint of question in her voice. It was a face she had not seen in person since October of her freshman year. "Russ Tyler?"

Russ dropped his head back, laughing loudly, and then grinned at her. Beau couldn't help but think that that easy smile was probably one of the biggest reasons Charlie and Russ were such good friends. "I didn't know if you'd remember me!"

Beau walked quickly around her signing table and gave a Russ a quick hug. "Not remember you? You're one of Charlie's favorite people in the world. How could I not remember you?"

Russ watched as she lifted herself to sit on the table and shook his head. "Well, it's been a long time, you know? You look different." He eyed her up and down. "You look good, girl." He shook his head again. "How on earth did Charlie Spazway snag a hottie like you?"

Now it was Beau's turn to drop her head back in a hearty laugh. She patted the table next to her, watching as the bookstore employees took her signs out of the window. "I knew I liked you Russ." She turned halfway to face him, drawing her leg beneath her and nodding a thanks when her agent's assistant brought her a cup of water. "What on earth are you doing in London and why didn't Charlie tell me you'd be here?"

"I'm starting a play in a few weeks." He had majored in drama, Beau remembered. The immensely proud look on his face had her interrupting.

"A play? That's great! Congratulations! What play?"

Russ basked in the admiration for a minute, having missed it in the past four months without a prime role. "It's a musical called 'Rent.'"

Beau grabbed his knee in a vice-like grip, sucking in a huge breath. "No way! I'm, like, an obsessive 'Rent' fan. Who are you playing?" Her eyes were huge.

He gently pulled her fingers from his aching kneecap. He spoke in a snooty accent, tipping his nose into the air. "Benjamin Coffin, III."

This time Beau reached out and hit him. "Get out!" He only smiled back at her. "Russ, that is the coolest thing ever."

Russ popped his collar, grinning. "Damn straight." He opened his cell phone and wiggled it in Beau's direction. "So, do you want to call Conway and tell him you're having dinner with a dashing actor this evening?"

Beau grabbed the phone, dialing in numbers as she nodded vigorously. "Damn straight."

Adam Banks was having one of those days. You know, the kind you could only describe as 'one of those days.' When he had woken up that morning, his wrist had been stiff as hell. He had been rotating it every five minutes or so, but the old middle school injury still bothered him every once in a while. Apparently today was the most recent 'every once in a while.'

When he had gotten outside, he had taken solace in the fact that it was another beautiful California day. It was warm and there wasn't a cloud to be seen in the sky. As he had started driving across town for pre-game interviews, the previously absent clouds had rolled across the sky in a hurry, obscuring the sun.

Ten minutes from the rink the sky had opened up, dropping a deluge of cold rain into Adam's car, sunroof open…of course. Before he was able to shut it, not only were his beautiful leather seats drenched, but so was he.

Banging his head gently against the steering wheel (also wet), he let out a cry of defiance, feeling like a complete idiot afterwards. He sat up, brushing his wet hair out of his eyes, and glaring at himself in the rearview mirror. "Shake it off, Banks. You've got a game to win today." Done glaring, and giving himself a pep talk, Adam rolled his eyes. "You're talking to yourself, Adam. Stop it." Silent now, he laughed a little. Seriously. Stop it.

Sighing and turning up the radio, he checked the mirrors and pulled back onto the road. Ten minutes and two of his favorite songs later he was driving around the arena and to the player parking in the back of the nearly deserted parking lot. He pulled into a spot, his spot as he liked to think of it, and turned off the engine, leaving the radio pumping. He leaned forward a little, resting his arms across the wheel, and stared up at the massive building. This was his third season and every time he showed up on a game day, he still felt his heart beat a little faster and the hairs stand up on his arms. Adam Banks absolutely considered hockey his life.

He was jolted from his reverie when his car lunched backward, slamming his head forward and then back. Adam was pretty sure he had felt his brain jiggle around inside his skull. He looked around and saw the car that had been parked in front of him now sitting flush against his front bumper, most definitely encroaching into his space. Crap.

Glaring out the window again at the rain, Adam resolved himself to the fact that he was not going to have any dry clothes for the rest of the evening and stepped out into the torrent. He squinted through the weather at the offending car. It was a small sports car, and the back end no longer looked as Adam imagined it was supposed to. There was a huge dent across the middle and both tail lights were broken. He glanced at his car and breathed a big sigh of relief to see that the only damage to his baby that day was wet leather.

He took a step forward, meaning to knock on the window of the sports car, but before he could get close, the door was flung open dramatically and a whirlwind came flying out.

"Oh my God!" She was a blur in her pale green suit and her flaming red hair instantly matted to her head from the rain. She ran to the back of her car, saw the damage, threw her hands to her head and dropped her gaze to the ground. "Oh my God. Jason is most definitely going to kill me." She spun in a circle, looking up at Adam's car, heaving a sigh of relief at the lack of damage, and then spun on him. "Are you okay?" Her voice had raised a notch and her eyes had widened. Adam looked at her, standing there in her crisp suit, dripping wet, and couldn't help but smile. He nodded once.

"Yeah. I'm fine." He looked up, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead to get the wet strands out of his face. He motioned to his truck. "Look, why don't we get out of this rain?"

She stared at him for a minute, her green eyes wide. Finally she nodded. "Okay." Adam made a move towards his door and the girl seemed to notice for the first time that she was standing in a downpour. She threw her hands over her head, as if that would help, and ran to the passenger door, throwing it open and jumping in breathlessly. She was looking around and when her eyes ventured out the windshield and back to her car, she sighed heavily. "Jason is absolutely going to flip."

Adam was leaned into the back seat digging through his hockey kit. He finally found a towel and drug it out, offering it to the woman dripping from head to toe. "Hey, the lights are easy enough to replace. If you're husband's worried about the dent, I think it looks like it can be pounded out pretty easily. I wouldn't stress too much. Are you okay?"

She looked over at him slowly, gently towel drying her hair. "I'm fine, thanks. And Jason's not my husband. He's my boss." She sounded completely despondent. "He's my boss," she repeated woefully.

Adam pulled a face. "Well that's no good."

She gave a grim nod. "No. It's not." She dried her hair in silence for another moment, looking around. When her eyes landed back on Adam, it seemed to suddenly occur to her that she was sitting in a stranger's car. She looked down, mortified, her pale skin turning hot red. She rose up off the seat a little, alarmed. "Oh geez. I'm dripping all over your beautiful car." Adam laughed a little as she tried to shove the towel, now also very wet, under her to cover the seat. He reached out, touching her arm gently and stilling her.

"It's fine. I had the sunroof open when the storm started, so everything was already soaked." He smiled, sticking out his hand, always the gentleman. "I'm Adam, by the way. Adam Banks."

She looked at him for a minute, completely in silence, and then shook her head. "Sorry. It's been 'one of those days' if you know what I mean."

"Boy do I."

She rolled her eyes at him. "And I just made your's worse. I'm sorry." She let a small nervous laugh escape her mouth. "I'm Kimball McGillicuddy."

Adam shook her hand, noticing how cold it was, and cranked the car up, turning the heat to full blast, despite the warm temperate outside. "It's nice to meet you."

She gave him an incredulous look. "Even under these circumstances?" Her eyebrows were arched high and Adam found it hard not to stare at her. She was striking with the combination of her light coloring and her brilliant hair. It always amazed him how some girls could look beautiful even with their hair a mess and their make-up washed off. He grinned.

"Well, I prefer to meet beautiful women at a restaurant or through a friend, but if I have to meet them by having them slam into my car…well, that'll work too." He gave her a serious look again. "Are you sure you're okay, Kimball?"

She nodded. "That's sweet of you to ask, but…" As if a sudden thought had hit her she looked down at her watch, which had miraculously not stopped. "Oh, crap!" She looked up apologetically and shoved the towel at him. "I was supposed to be inside like fifteen minutes ago. As if my boss wasn't already going to mad enough about his car." She was talking a mile a minute. Adam was trying to find a place to jump in, opening and closing his mouth in the attempt, but she was ignoring him completely. "Thank you so much for the towel and for not being a jerk about this and for…well for just not being a jerk." She finished on a quick intake of air and leaned over, kissing him on the cheek roughly. Before Adam could think of a response, she was out of his car, slamming the door. She stopped briefly, looked at her boss' little car, shook her head, and took off running towards the arena.

Adam laughed, feeling a little breathless himself after the cyclone that was Kimball McGillicuddy.

"Charlie, he was fabulous!" Beau was standing outside on a busy London street, waiting for Russ to finish changing and meet her after his performance. They had plans for a late dinner and some serious time trading embarrassing Charlie stories. She had already talked to Charlie earlier and only had plans to give him a quick update. She knew it was late in the States and didn't want to keep him up. "You just wouldn't imagine." She thought abut it for a second. "Or maybe you would as well as you know him. He was born to do this."

"That's great. You're right. I'm not surprised though." Charlie just couldn't get over the fact that he was freezing his butt off in Detroit and Beau and Russ were cavorting around in another country together. Yeah, Conway. You're life is really tough. "Will you tell him congratulations for me?"

Beau smiled. "Of course I will." She paused. "I miss you, babe."

"I miss you too. I don't play as well when you're gone." He smiled, knowing Beau would see through it.

Sure enough, she scoffed loudly. "Shut it, Charlie. You play just as well whether I'm there or not."

"Well, yeah. But don't you feel special when I say it?" He was laughing but still felt a pang of jealousy when he heard Russ' voice in the background. He had not seen his friend in over a year and desperately wished he was there with them. Beau said something to Tyler and then returned Charlie her attention.

"Yes, I feel wonderfully special when you say it. I've gotta go though, darlin'." She laughed again at Russ, mugging faces at her. "I love you."

Russ made a shocked sound and raised his voice, making sure Charlie could hear him. "A girl loves Conway? There must be some big assed pigs flying somewhere!"

Charlie laughed. "I love you too, Beau. Have fun."

It only took Adam thirty minutes to drag himself and all of his stuff inside and get himself looking presentable for pre-game interviews. He knew he was doing one with a local station and sighed a little. He lived in one of the biggest news markets in the world, so one would hope for a little originality, but he hardly thought he would get it today. Most of these guys were just following the example of the guy before them. He would be asked how he was feeling about the season, what did he think of his coach's notoriously soft style, and did he think Manden, their starting center, should have his contract renegotiated as he wanted.

Adam's answers would be the same as always. He thought the season was going well, that they had worked hard in the off season, and that they were already on par to do much better than the previous year. He truly enjoyed playing for his coach and felt that he had the perfect style for coaching them to victory. He had players that wanted to play for him and that was the most important element. As for Manden, well Adam thought he was a complete egomaniac who just happened to be a great hockey player and who deserved nothing. His official comment though, would be no comment.

His agent stuck his head in the door, smiling. "Heya, Adam. We're all set up for you." Adam stood, stretching before he readjusted his shirt and ran a hand over his hair. He was led down the hall and ended up in a small room that they typically used for these kinds of things. He sat down on a stool in front of a backdrop and waited for the man in front of him to turn around and get off of his cell phone. Why on earth had this joker called and said he was ready if he was planning on chit chatting on the phone? Adam sighed, trying but failing, to avoid eavesdropping.

"You did what?" The man's voice had raised a notch and Adam could see his ears turning red up on the tips. "Where are you?" He was practically yelling. He swiveled violently towards the door to the hallway. "You wreck my car and you're calling me from the hall to tell me?" He was screaming now and Adam felt a rock settle in his stomach. A car wreck, huh?

The reporter slammed his phone shut. "Get in here!"

There was a brief pause as everyone, Adam included, stared at the open door. Slowly, Kimball sidled in, her face crimson and her hands clasped before her. The Jerk, as Adam was now planning to refer to him, was on his feet. Kimball opened her mouth, her voice soft.

"Jason, you're yelling." She said it as a statement, but really it was more a plea for him to stop.

He raised his hands, looking around incredulously. "Of course I'm yelling. You wrecked my car you idiot."

She seemed to shrink into herself and Adam stood before he even realized that he had started moving. Kimball looked in his direction at the movement and sucked in a sharp breath. Adam gave her a conspiratorial smile. He looked at the Jerk, um…Jason, sliding his hands deep into the pockets of his suit pants. "Okay, I think that's enough."

Hockey-girl90: Thanks! I definitely don't think I'd say the best. Do you read The Mighty Ducks All Over Again or its companion Reunion? You might like them, I think!

Cc: My ever faithful reviewer! Thanks! Sadly I doubt I'd fit in your suitcase, but it was a nice thought. I'm glad you liked Cole's line. I just didn't think he'd be happy if I was writing cheesy lines for him!