Page 57 of Goalie's Obsession

"Rooftop bar for a nightcap?"

Connor looks at me, one eyebrow raised in silent question.

I should say no. I should retreat to our room and build a pillow wall down the middle of that king-sized bed.

Instead, I hear myself say, "I'm in."

The rooftop bar pulses with energy as we step out into the warm LA night. String lights crisscross overhead like a web of stars, competing with the city skyline that stretches endlessly in every direction.

A DJ spins in the corner, bass thrumming through the wooden deck beneath my heels.

Blake and Connor peel off toward the bar, already working their magic. Within minutes, a velvet rope appears around the best section of the room—complete with plush lounges and a dedicated server to provide our every need.

"Now this is what I call service," Sophia says, linking her arm through mine as we claim the prime spot overlooking downtown LA.

Natalie waves over our server. "Three Sunset Spritzes, please."

The drinks arrive in delicate copper cups, garnished with fresh flowers and citrus. They're gorgeous and probably too pretty to drink. Once upon a time, this scene would have made me roll my eyes—the pretension, the excess, the beautiful people preening for attention.

But tonight feels different.

Maybe it's the way the breeze carries the scent of something different. Maybe it's how the city lights make everything glow golden.

Or maybe it's—

My stomach drops.

Across the bar, Connor's surrounded by three women who look like they just stepped off a runway. One of them—a leggy blonde in a red dress—touches his arm as she laughs. Another tosses her dark hair, leaning in close to be heard over the music.

I grip my drink tighter, the copper suddenly cold against my palm.

"Lucy?" Natalie's voice breaks through my spiral. "You okay?"

"Super." The word comes out sharper than I intend.

I drain my second drink, then signal for another as it hits me.

Shit.

This is Connor's natural habitat, isn't it? The spotlight, the attention, the gorgeous women vying for his attention.

I watch as the blonde tosses her head back laughing at something Connor says. My fingers tighten around my glass until my knuckles turn white.

The rational part of my brain knows I have no right to feel this way—we're not actually dating.

But the irrational part?

It's currently plotting three very creative ways to "accidentally" spill my drink on that red dress.

I'm halfway through drink number three when Connor's eyes find mine across the crowded roof. His gaze locks onto me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle.

"Lucy!" Connor's voice cuts through the crowd. He's grinning, waving me over. "C'mere, I want you to meet my sisters."

My brain screeches to a halt.

Sisters?

I blink, frozen, as Connor wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me into their circle. "This is Maeve, Katie, and Teagan—my incredibly annoying older sisters."

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