Chapter 1
CONNOR
And these men? They may be embracing a casual day with jeans and t-shirts, but their seething stare has become a constant occurrence.
But I’m the golden ticket, and they know it.
“What lovely weather we’re having for May in Illinois. Probably means it’ll snow next week, but it’s the small wins, right?” I calmly say as I cross my arms and feel a victorious grin form.
“Cut the bullshit, Connor.” My Uncle Declan is the first to speak, and that doesn’t really surprise me.
His stake in my hockey career is a little high, considering he owns the Spinners.
He’s never afraid to voice his disapproval, yet he has a soft spot for me.
How can he not? He married my aunt Violet, and she’s the best. More like a friend since we’re closer in age, plus her flower shop provides the flowers that I need to charm the female population around here.
Sitting next to my uncle is my father. Ford Spears and Declan Dash are hockey legends; they played together years ago and never left hockey behind. My father owns the sports complex nearby where the Spinners train, and these two are also true partners in crime.
Which is unlucky for me most of the time.
My dad sighs. “Why are we having this conversation yet again?” While he isn’t my agent, he voluntarily took on an unofficial role as my manager and trainer without the title, lucky me.
He can throw in the dad card too, yet I’ve never minded.
My father and mother had me when they were young, which means the age difference makes it a hell of a lot easier to connect sometimes.
My parents did a lot for me, that I’ll never forget.
So, if he wants to help guide my career, then so be it.
But right now? These two men are ganging up on me.
Uncle Declan slides his drink to the side and leans against the table, scanning the area to ensure nobody is taking notice of us.
Even if they did, Lake Spark is a small town that respects keeping gossip within our bubble.
“I’m begging you, for all our sakes, to cool it down with the partying,” he states.
“You’re landing in too many media reports and not for the reasons that make your mother happy,” my father adds. He’s pulling out the big guns, mentioning my mother who I buy flowers for on a regular basis because she’s amazing.
Still, I roll my eyes. “We made it to the playoffs, even after our shitty season, so of course, the team was going to celebrate,” I justify. What a shame we were out in the second round.
“There is a photo of you taking shots next to the goalie while lying on a bar top,” my uncle deadpans.
I shrug a shoulder. “So? I’m in my twenties. What else would I be doing to celebrate?”
My father shakes his head from my answer while he slides his hand along his brow.
Good ole’ Uncle Declan points a finger at me. “I swear I could strangle you.” He doesn’t mean it. He has to play bad cop when he’s in business mode. At family events, he’ll just turn off his work switch and be uncle extraordinaire, complete with a side hug and jokes.
“It’s off-season now. I’m strongly suggesting that you lie low. Try to straighten up your image a bit. You want to be in the media because of your skill, not because of your off-ice antics,” my dad points out.
He may present a valid point. It took years to prove I earned a spot on the team due to talent, not connections.
Hockey may be family tradition, but my abilities have made me MVP for two seasons straight.
I’m a damn good defenseman. And so what, sometimes media throws in the hottest bachelor title.
If you have good looks, then celebrate it.
“Relax, I have one more thing, then I’ll focus on sleeping in, hanging with my little brothers, and hitting the gym.
” My parents got back together when I was ten, and my little brothers came a few years later.
When I return to Lake Spark, even though I have my own place, I’m at my parents’ a lot, and the house is chaos, with kids running around and a Labrador who is enjoying his final years.
The two in front of me glance at one another with a puzzled look.
Lifting his nose, my father asks with a hardened stare, “What’s one more thing?”
My grin stretches. “Vegas. The boys and I are heading there tomorrow for Briggs’s birthday. Don’t worry, I’ll be back for family dinner by the weekend.”
Both men wince at my statement before shaking their heads in disapproval. But then my father forms a soft smile for someone who seems to be standing behind me.
“Hey, Hadley,” he greets her.
My body tightens, and her name wipes my cocky grin right off my face.
Keeping my eyes set on the table, I choose to ignore the fact that Hadley Crews, with her long silky hair with caramel highlights and sparkly blue eyes, is stopping at our table to say hello to my father because she’s a good girl like that.
“Hi, Mr. S and Mr. D.” Her polite tone makes me grip my denim-clad thighs.
Hadley is a few years younger than me, my next-door neighbor growing up, and the daughter of a former baseball star. She’s also anything but polite… when it comes to me.
“Christ, how many times do we have to tell you, it’s Ford and Declan. We’re too young for that mister crap,” my father corrects her, because our parents are best friends, down to our moms sipping a dry white on weekends together.
She chuckles softly. “I know, but still.”
“Brielle, my sister, and your mom are hysterical. They go on and on about that class you teach,” my father mentions.
“Ballet barre? They come every week, work up a sweat, then hit Jolly Joe’s right after class for cake.
Balance, I guess.” Hadley can’t help but gush because she loves her mom, and well, probably loves my mom also, then add my aunt to that list too.
In return, they have her on a pedestal of greatness.
“Brielle keeps asking me to check out her toned body,” my father reflects.
I cringe at the thought. “Get it together,” I mutter. “None of us want to know what you and Mom get up to.”
“Passion doesn’t die, Son.” He chuckles at me then turns his attention back to the thorn in my side. “Grabbing lunch, Hadley?”
“Yeah, I’m just meeting Isla for a quick bite then heading back to the dance studio. I’m teaching a group of eighty-year-olds this afternoon.”
Uncle Declan interjects and speaks to me. “See? Work ethic and helping the senior population. You could learn a lesson or two from her.”
I scoff a laugh. “Trust me, I’m sure underneath her heart of gold, her mouth spits out wicked things.” It flies off my mouth too easily.
The men at the table stare at me blankly, and Hadley’s eyes snap to me with distaste apparent on her face; I know because I glance up to catch her soft lips form a tight line.
She may be an elegant ballerina that teaches dance in our little town, but her eyes have a tint of wildness, the type that can make a man come undone if he isn’t careful.
She’s always been the ballerina who dances with her hair down to Guns ‘n’ Roses.
And her dark polished nails? They dig into skin as if she doesn’t want to let go.
But that’s our little secret, one she wishes we didn’t share.
One of the men sitting across from me clears their throat, attempting to break the stiff tension now gracing our table.
Hadley throws on a smile for their benefit. “I hope you both enjoy your lunch despite sitting with this menace. See you around.”
“Yeah, he is special, this one.” My father flashes me an over-the-top grin before turning back to my nemesis. “Oh, and thanks for babysitting the boys last weekend,” my father remarks.
“Maybe we can add babysitting my nephew here. I’ll pay extra,” my uncle adds.
“There isn’t enough money in the world for that,” she states dryly before walking away. She’s right too. Because she hates me, and hell knows, I've given her a bucketful of reasons, which is why she’ll never change her mind.
My relatives have the audacity to chuckle at her comment, which causes me to give them an unimpressed look.
My father smiles. “You two are always the same. Ever since you were kids. Not sure why. I mean, she had the world’s biggest crush on you.”
“And?” I can’t care.
“Grow some maturity is what your dad is saying. You may actually realize that she is quite a joy to be around, and you’ve just been flirting with her,” my uncle has the audacity to casually mention before he looks at his phone.
My face stays blank. “I’m not flirting.”
“Thank God. Spencer would kill you.” My dad is only half-joking. Spencer, Hadley’s dad, probably would. I’m like 90% certain that he might hate me due to my wild teenage years or the fact he doesn’t like the idea of any guy around his princess… and I don’t mind one bit.
Ignoring what they say, my eyes scan the room and land on Hadley with her friend Isla sitting at a table. Internally, fear forms that Isla is inviting Hadley to Vegas. These are the hazards of Isla hanging with the team, since her older brother is our winger and my best friend.
Why the fuck does Hadley have to be a vision?
Even when she’s wearing an oversized shirt that falls off the curve of her shoulder, then she’s in those tight little dance pants, and I bet she’s sporting a leotard underneath too.
Nobody knows how she gets under my skin or how in another life she deserves to be my queen.
“Vegas, Connor. Best behavior,” my uncle grits out as a reminder.
Memo received.
“What happens there, stays there.” I turn my attention to him with an overdone smile.
“Connor,” my father warns.
“Relax.” I humor them, or maybe I consider their concerns… for a second.
I haven’t decided because my eyes flick briefly back to Hadley, the delicate flower with a feisty tongue who is tucking a lock of loose hair behind her ear while the waiter flirts with her. I bet he would never be able to make her scowl the way I do.
My eyes pin on my uncle and father. “I hear your advice loud and clear, and I’ll follow it after Vegas,” I promise.