Page 70 of Whiskey Wednesdays

“Whatever.”

We ice skated around the rink a few times, and I felt more stable with each lap. I finally tried to skate backwards, and about landed on my ass. But I got the hang of it on the fifth try.

Eventually, I skated over to the bench and sat down. “I want to watch you two play.”

They grabbed the hockey sticks and a puck, and Connor gave me a hard kiss. Then for an hour or so I watched, mesmerized, as they played what appeared to be a six-shot hockey drill. They were both so fast, I had difficulty following the puck.

They’d obviously played together for years because it seemed they could anticipate each other’s moves. I’d never seen Connor play in person, and he and Titus on the ice was something I’d never forget. It was hypnotizing, heart-stopping, and hot as hell.

Someone sat down next to me. I glanced over and saw Jackson in his workout sweats. Mikael came and sat on my other side. I nodded to them and went back to watching the show.

Finally, the rest of the team started filtering in along with Coach Bailey. Everyone stopped to watch them finish up. Even Coach Bailey stared, transfixed.

When the last few players arrived, Connor and Titus headed off the rink. They were both grinning.

Jackson gazed at them. “It never gets old, watching those two play together. I wish they were both ten years younger.”

I smiled, but it seemed sad to be at the end of your career in your mid-thirties. Connor squished in between Mikael and me and started unlacing his skates.

Mikael leaned forward and turned to me. “Are we playing Catan again this week,vännen?”

Connor scowled. “What the fuck doesvännenmean?”

Mikael grinned. “Friend in Swedish.”

Connor paused, then shrugged. “Alright. Tell everyone Bella’s whiskey Wednesday potluck, get-to-know-your-fucking-neighbor thing is at my house this week. And every Wednesday from now on unless you hear otherwise, eh?”

Titus smirked. “That’s okay with me. Then I don’t have to clean up after these bastards.”

Connor leaned over and stared at Jackson on the other side of me. “Make sure everyone knows. Got it?”

Jackson’s lip twitched. “Got it.” Somehow, I thought Connor wasn’t just talking about our Wednesday game nights.

We left the rink and returned my skates. When we got back to his car, Connor turned to me.

“I did this a little backward, but let’s go to dinner tonight.”

My stomach flipped pleasantly. “As in a date? What about Elodie?”

He smiled and kissed my knuckles. “I love that you think about her. It’ll be a late dinner, and we’ll go after she’s asleep. I have someone on call in the evenings, or your dad may be willing to hang out at my house for a couple of hours.”

Connor took me to a popular steakhouse on El Paseo Drive for our first official date together. I wore my go-to black dress and he wore a linen shirt, and shoes that probably cost more than my car.

The host sat us in a semi-private booth, and Connor ordered a bottle of wine. I glanced at the menu, saw the prices, and promptly shut it.

“I’ll have a couple of bites of your steak, and the Caesar salad.” He was studying me when a couple sitting at a table close by spotted Connor. They got up and came over to talk.

“Connor McCoy, fuck me,” the red-faced middle-aged man boomed. “It’s good to see you finally out and about.” His wife, judging by the huge diamond ring on her wedding finger, was taller and much thinner than the man, and she looked like she wasn’t a stranger to Botox. She wore a periwinkle blue sheath that showed off her toned legs, and four-inch gold sandals. They were with another well-dressed couple, and they all looked like they’d been through a few bottles of wine together.

Connor reluctantly stood and shook hands. “Hello, Heath. I got the schedule from your group last week. I’ll give you a call so we can discuss some issues.”

He turned to me. “This is Isabella Cruz. Bella, this is Heath Perkins. He sometimes rents out the arena for events.”

Heath turned to me and eyed me up and down. “Well hello, sweetie. Are you the reason Connor is holed up at his estate every night?”

Ugh. What a shmuck. I hated it when men I didn’t know gave me nicknames like sweetie.

“I doubt it.” I stood up and held my hand out to his wife. “He didn’t introduce you, so we’ll have to do it ourselves. I’m Isabella Cruz.”

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