Page 58 of Goalie's Obsession

"We prefer 'delightfully meddlesome,'" the blonde in red—Maeve—corrects, pulling me into a hug. "God, you're gorgeous. No wonder he won't shut up about you."

Katie elbows Connor. "Remember when he used to check your Instagram stories every—"

"And we're done with that conversation," Connor interrupts, his ears turning pink.

Teagan leans in close. "You're even prettier in person. You know he's been a pain in the ass about you."

"Have you seen Insta today?" Katie pulls out her phone. "There's this whole conspiracy theory that you two have been secretly dating for years."

"My favorite video is the one where they slow-mo'd your kiss at the gala," Maeve adds. "Set it to Taylor Swift and everything."

I'm still processing when Connor steers me toward the bar later, his breath warm against my ear. "Three girls around me and you go full murder-face? I'm flattered, sweetheart."

"I did not—" I sputter, but his knowing smirk stops me cold. "Oh, shut up."

He laughs softly, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear in a simple movement that's devastating to my ovaries.

"You never told me you had three sisters," I say, watching as he signals the bartender with two fingers.

"There's a lot you don’t know about me." He leans an elbow on the bar, his body turned toward mine, fully present.

The city lights catch the hint of color in his eyes, and for a second, I forget how to speak.

I swallow slowly. “Like what?”

Connor orders me something fruity and pink that matches the LA sunset. His fingers brush mine as he hands me the glass.

"My sisters basically raised me," he says, his voice softening. "Dad worked double shifts at the firehouse, Mom pulled night rotations at the hospital. Maeve taught me how to skate. Katie showed me how to throw a punch. And Teagan..." He pauses, amusement flickering across his face. "She made sure I did my homework."

I lean closer, drawn in by this glimpse beneath his usual cocky exterior. "That explains why you handle strong women so well."

His thumb slides across my bare shoulder. "They never let me get away with anything. Still don't."

Two drinks later, Connor's telling me about the time his sisters dressed him up as a princess for Halloween when he was six. His hand has migrated to my lower back, warm and steady as it hovers just above my ass.

"Did they at least let you keep your hockey stick with the tutu?" I giggle, the alcohol making everything delightfully fuzzy.

"It was my magic wand." He grins, pulling me closer as I sway slightly. "You good there, Lucy Lou?"

"I'm perfect," I say, smiling up at Connor.

Three more cocktails and countless stories later, I'm learning how Maeve used to sneak him into her high school's ice rink after hours so he could practice. The city lights below have started to blur together, and I'm definitely past my limit, but I don't want to stop hearing about teenage Connor with his hand-me-down pads and desperate determination.

"We should probably get you some water," Connor says as the nightclub starts to clear out, steadying me as I lean heavily into his chest.

"But I want to hear more about little Connor in his tutu." My words slur slightly, and I feel his chest rumble with laughter.

He huffs a soft laugh. “Yeah, you’re definitely cut off.”

He doesn’t let go of me as he guides me toward the elevator. His arm is firm around my waist, grounding me, and I don’t know what to make of it. Of any of this.

The rest of the team is still going strong, Blake and Sophia dancing while Ryder holds court with a group of women by the bar.

Connor hugs each of his sisters goodbye, and I attempt a curtsy that nearly sends me face-first into Maeve's chest.

"Your brother's tutu game was strong," I announce, making Katie snort-laugh into her martini.

Connor wraps an arm around my waist before I can demonstrate my own tutu-twirling abilities, already pulling up the Uber app on his phone.

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