Page 71 of Goalie's Obsession

But I notice something different about her. It takes me a moment to see exactly what it is, but the moment I lock eyes with her… I see it.

She's added a subtle smoky sweep around her eyes, an extra layer of gloss on her lips.

She sees me and smiles—and I swear to God, the entire city fades behind her.

“Connor…” Her voice is breathless, eyes darting to the candles, the jazz duo, the roses. “This is…”

I take a step forward, barely resisting the urge to kiss her stupid right there in the doorway.

“You look—” I exhale like I’ve been punched in the gut. “Lucy. You look stunning.”

Her smile tips into a smirk. “I thought this was just dinner. You saidcasual.”

I walk toward her, slow and steady. “Yeah, well. You said you were just outbidding your brother. Not buying a date. So I figured I should make it count anyway.”

She gives me a look and steps closer. “So youdobelieve in romance.”

“When it makes you look at me like that?” I reach for her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I’d believe in anything.”

She flushes, biting her lip.

I lead her to the table and pull out her chair. The jazz duo starts to play, soft and low, the notes curling around us like smoke. The city sparkles below and the glow of the candles flickers between us.

“Connor…” she says again, her voice softer now. “This is insane. I’ve had… charity galas, trust fund dates, ski lodge dinners overlooking the Swiss Alps—butthis?”

She gestures to the table. To the two-person menu with the gold lettering that reads:

Lucy's $50K Date – No Refunds.

She flips the menu open and laughs.

“First Course,” she reads aloud with a beaming smile. “‘The Best Thing You’ve Ever Eaten Off Me.’”

I wink. “That was Tino’s idea.”

"Oh really?" Her eyes skim lower. “What about the second course… ‘Sauteed Sausage, Saltwater-Stroked fresh from the Pacific.’” She nearly snorts her wine.

“What?” I say innocently. “It’s a bold flavor profile.”

She’s still giggling as I fill her glass, the candlelight catching in her hair. She looks so goddamnhappy.

And that’s what wrecks me.

That I did this. That I couldgiveher this.

We eat. We drink. She tells me a story about Sophia bribing airport security with brownies once. I make her laugh so hard she nearly chokes on her wine with my locker room stories and behind the scenes insight into the team.

As we’re finishing the last bite of the chocolate soufflé, she turns to me, eyes soft, lips pink and wine-slicked.

“Why’d you do all this?” she whispers. “Really?”

The air shifts.

I set down my fork and lean closer, elbows on the table, gaze locked on hers.

“Because,” I say, voice low and steady, “I didn’t want this to be just the auction. I didn’t want to be some prize you bought because you were having a fight with your brother. I wanted to give you something real.”

She blinks, breath catching.

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