Page 1 of Goaltender Interference

CHAPTER ONE

EARLY JULY

“Why is”—Connor O’Shea licked suddenly dry lips— “Why is your goaltendertwerking?”

Dustin Fowler snorted. “What the fuck did you just say? I think that whiskey is bringing out the Boston in your words, man.”

Connor glowered. His accent wasn’t that thick, damn it. “Isaid, ‘why is your goaltender twerking?’”

“Twahking? How much have you had to drink tonight anyway?” Dustin shot back.

“Fuck off. And answer my question.”

Shrugging, Dustin took a sip of his own cocktail, then leaned in to be heard better over the thumping music from the DJ. “If you think I have a clue why Webby doesanything, you clearly assume I have better control of guys on my team than I actually do.”

Connor chuckled, tearing his gaze away from Jesse Webber who was holding court in the middle of the dance floor. Shit, untilnow Connor hadn’t known ass cheeks couldmovelike that. If that wasn’t the most mesmerizing thing Connor had ever seen in person, he’d eat the nearby flower centerpiece.

“Yeah, you’ve had a couple of … interesting seasons.”

“You can say that again.” Dustin sighed. “I’m hoping this coming season I can focus on Jesse and get him … wrangled.”

Connor raised an eyebrow, skeptical about anyone’s ability to wrangle a guy like that. Even an NHL captain as talented and highly respected as Fowler.

Like many of the men attending the wedding, Webber had lost his suit jacket, tie, and shirt a while ago.Unlikemost of them, he was whipping that shirt in the air over his head like he was wielding a lasso.

Worst of all, it wasworking. He’d used it to pull in no fewer than three people in the past ninety seconds.

“Mmm, good luck with that.” Connor’s tone was filled with disbelief.

Dustin laughed. “Tell me about it. Management is up my ass about the whole thing. They werelividabout his post-Cup celebrations.”

“Can’t imagine why.” There were photos of the kid frolicking naked in the fountain outside of Toronto’s city hall. And with his tongue down the throats of half of Toronto’s drunk fans.

Charming.

“Right.” Dustin rubbed his head. “That’s the goal anyway. We’ll see how successful I am.”

“Cheers to that.” Connor held up his own drink.

“But, as much as I enjoy catching up with you, O’Shea, I’d like to dance with my husband now.” Dustin set his glass on the white linen tablecloth, then stood, lightly slapping Connor’s back. “See you later.”

“Later, Fowler.”

Dustin disappeared into the crowd and the lonely ache that had been lingering inside Connor all day—hell, all week—flared to life again.

This wasn’t the first wedding Connor had been to since he split from Viv. Not even the first since their divorce was finalized. Being in the NHL meant that summers were filled with weddings.

Unfortunately, today hit a little differently.

Connor was fucking happy for Kelly and Anders. Hewas. His brother deserved to find love like this and Anders did too, especially after the loss of his wife and baby girl in a devastating accident.

But now his baby brother was happily married and if Connor spent any more time thinking about it, he was gonna become that cliché sad sack sitting alone at a wedding looking miserable. Worst of all, someone in his family was probably gonna drag over some single woman who didn’t wanna be thrust at him any more than he wanted to be thrust at her.

Or maybe she would.

He supposed he was a decent catch, what with the NHL salary and being reasonably good-looking—according to some. Thank fuck, unlike Kelly, he hadn’t ended up with freckles and his hair and beard were closer to auburn than carrot.

But a few minutes later, when Connor spotted one of his aunts moving through the crowd like a woman on a mission, towing along a beautiful blonde in a slinky dress, he definitely knew he wasn’t in the mood to deal with that bullshit.

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