Page 14 of Goalie's Obsession

“I’m working, Connor. You should try it sometime.”

He hums. “Nah. Watching you pretend not to listen is way more fun.”

He takes one more slow step forward, close enough that I can feel his heat behind me. My sharp inhale catches the subtle trace of his cologne, all clean citrusy-cedar and something darker that makes my skin prickle. The heat curls low in my stomach… sharp, sudden, and completely unfair.

“You’re not even a little curious what I’ll go for?”

I glance at him. Mistake. His smirk is pure torture, and those amber eyes are laser-focused onme. My blood heats instantly.

“I’m saying I hope the auction ends before someone starts stripping.”

Connor shrugs, unbothered. “Well, that depends on how generous the bidders are feeling.”

Ryder's still talking shit to Logan and Blake and soon he's barking across the room. “I bet I go for more than you, Walsh.”

Connor’s eyebrows lift, his grin going shark-level. “Excuse you? I’m a Stanley Cup champion. That’s, like, premium auction material.”

“I’m younger. Funnier. Less damaged.”

Ryder high-fives Blake who glares over at Connor.

"And we're all champions you fucking moron!" Blake laughs.

Sophia collapses into laughter as I try not to scream.

“God,” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Please let this auction be over already.”

Connor moves closer, his voice dropping to a low, infuriating murmur. “Why? Afraid you’ll have to bid on me, baby?”

I whip my head toward him, face on fire. “In your dreams.”

He leans in, smile lazy. “Every night.”

Before I can think of a suitably scathing response, Ethan strides into the ballroom like he owns the place. Which, knowing my brother, he's probably already calculated exactly how much it would cost to buy.

His dark jeans and black Henley are deceptively casual, but I recognize the designer label. His jaw is freshly shaved, hair slightly wind-tousled in that perfectly imperfect way that screams 'private jet arrival.'

He flashes that million-dollar smile at the team and they light up like my brother is one of their own. I've seen that smile work magic at society events, watched it charm even the most hardened cynics.

But here? With the Icehawks?

I didn't expect this.

The team moves over and clap him on the back. Ethan grins through multiple handshakes, bro-nods and manly back-slaps. Logan, of all people, even yells “Finally decided to visit the peasants, huh?” before getting pulled into a one-armed hug.

I shouldn’t be surprised.

Ethan may have disappeared into the luxury abyss of yachts and boardrooms, but hedidgrow up in Iron Ridge too. And the guys clearly still consider him one of their own.

“Wow,” he says, scanning the room before landing on me. His grin widens. “This is impressive. My little sister playing event planner. Does Mom know you’re using your powers for good instead of social climbing?”

The entire team chuckles in unison.

Connor, of course, doesn’t miss a beat and he pops up beside me and crosses his arms over his chest. “She’s got hidden depths, bro. You’d be amazed what she can pull off under pressure.”

My eyes narrow and my voice snaps, “Connor! Shut it.”

He winks.

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