Page 93 of Whiskey Wednesdays

“Even after I told him we were eating lunch together, he still looked at you like that. And he reminded me he’ll be seeing you next week. That’s a fucktwit move.”

“You have no room to talk. There was Ms. Prissy last night.”

“It’s Ms. Sissy.”

“Oh, now you can remember her name.”

He grinned and took my hand.

Laurel came over and stood by us during the game. Sebastian and Matías coached the team together, and Matías’s little girl, Sophie, was the best player on the field. She ran circles around the defenders, and she had good instincts.

Laurel started chuckling and pointed to the goalie on the other team who was picking his nose in front of the goalie box.

“So far, he’s done the ‘pick and flick’ and the ‘pick and rub.’ Which he rubbed on the front of his shirt. But it looks like…”

I wrinkled my nose. “Oh, gross. That’s disgusting.”

Connor grinned. “That was the classic ‘pick and eat.’ If you watch enough kids’ sports, you’ll eventually see it.”

Laurel grimaced. “It still makes me want to gag.”

Connor shook his head. “That’s one thing about hockey. Kids have to hold a hockey stick, so their hands aren’t free to pick their noses. Or other places.”

“This is an obvious subject change,” Laurel said, turning to Connor. “But what do you think about hosting a Martini Monday party at your house sometime? No worries if it’s not your thing. But both Damien and Zeke said you have a beautiful home, and we’d love to see it.”

Connor shrugged. “We have the entire hockey team over every Wednesday night for what I call Whiskey Wednesdays. I think we can handle a Martini Monday party.” He glanced at me. “You okay with that?”

I smiled. “It’s your house. But I’m happy to help.”

“Deal.” He leaned over and kissed me.

“How about a week from Monday? We’re having it at Scott’s house this Monday, and you’re invited, of course. Titus too.”

“Sounds great. Scott lives on your street a few doors up, right?” I asked.

Laurel nodded. “Yeah. He’s the house with the pink door. You can’t miss it.”

Just then the referee blew the whistle, signaling the end of the game. Players on both teams erupted into cheers and ran around the field, hugging each other.

Connor watched in bemusement. “The other team knows they lost, right?”

Laurel grinned. “They did this last season too. It’s a kids’ recreational soccer league, and they’re five. No one but the parents care who wins.”

Connor stopped to talk to Sebastian and Matías, and I continued walking toward the parking lot with Laurel.

Daniel, Tyler’s dad, caught up with us and took my elbow. “Hey, can I talk to you?”

Laurel looked at me questioningly.

“I’ll just be a minute,” I told her.

She nodded and stayed close.

He pulled me a little further away. “So you’re seeing that guy, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Look, I know things happen. If you ever want to meet up for lunch, or even just get a coffee sometime, let me know. I work at the Desert Regional Medical Center as an assistant director.”

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