Chapter 4
MADARS
I could barely eat, and it had nothing to do with the quality of the food. In fact, the food was incredible.
The problem? My stupid stomach was all in stupid knots because my stupid brain was spinning out over the man sitting across from me.
Connor was just… holy hell. He’d been so cute when we were kids, especially as he’d bulked up a little during that second year I lived with his family.
The adult version of him, though? He had that lean build that all the refs had—came with the territory of skating a full sixty-minute game every night—and his features had sharpened over time.
He still had that smile that had made me forget English the first couple of times even though I’d been fluent since I was a child.
Still boyish, still with those sparkling eyes—fuck, he was so damn gorgeous.
It was a good thing he didn’t officiate any of my games.
I wasn’t worried about him being biased—I was worried about my idiot ass crashing into the boards or a teammate because I was staring at a ref.
I’d dated a teammate for a little while and that had been fine, but I doubted I could keep my skates under me if Connor was on the same sheet.
“Anyway,” he was saying, mercifully oblivious to my ridiculous brain, “my dad is still salty that Michael didn’t win, but I think Scott Paulsen earned it.”
I nodded as I caught up. “He broke the record, didn’t he? For points in a rookie season?”
“By five points, yeah.” Connor whistled and shook his head as he dragged a bread dumpling through the sauce. “Michael had an amazing rookie season, but there’s no beating that, you know?”
“No, definitely not. Didn’t he beat Paulsen for MVP later?”
“Yep. Two years in a row.” He rolled his eyes. “I think Dad just really, really wanted to have Michael’s name on the Rookie of the Year trophy with his, you know?”
“Sounds like a ton of pressure on Michael.”
Connor quirked his lips, then wobbled his hand in the air. “I mean, no more than Michael was putting on himself? He’s been competitive since he was a toddler.”
“Eh, true. I don’t think anyone gets to that level without being competitive at every goddamned thing.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Including you?”
“Including me.” I chuckled, and I might’ve been mistaken, but I thought his breath stuttered a little. What was that about? And why did his cheeks turn pink as he dropped his gaze to his food?
Before I could think anything of it, Connor cleared his throat and met my gaze again. “Oh, my sister’s getting married!”
“Yeah?” I smiled. “That’s great! Not the same guy she was dating back then, is it?”
Laughing, Connor shook his head, and as he told me about his soon-to-be brother-in-law, I tried to figure out a tactful way to ask if anyone else in the Ellis family was engaged or otherwise coupled. But for some reason, I couldn’t find the words.
What is wrong with me?
Connor sipped his wine. “So what about you? How are you liking Switzerland? Besides the cold, I mean?”
It took longer than I cared to admit for my brain to catch up, but it did. “Oh, it’s, uh… It’s good. It’s nice. The league is good.” I paused, then admitted, “I’d saw off a limb to get another NAL contract, though.”
Connor’s grimace was full of empathy. “I’m sure. I was surprised when they didn’t sign you.”
Sighing, I half-shrugged, suddenly even less interested in my food.
Before I could speak, he waved a hand. “Sorry. I… I didn’t mean to bring up a touchy subject.”
“It’s not. Not really.” I took a gulp of wine. “I’d love to play in North America again, but I’m still playing professionally. I’m here for the Games.” I gave another tight shrug. “I have time—my agent thinks if I can get on a team’s radar before I turn thirty, I might still have a shot.”
At that, Connor smiled, which made my pulse do things it shouldn’t have. “Fingers crossed, then. I know there’s going to be some scouts here this week.” His smile broadened. “Maybe you’ll catch someone’s eye.”
“I hope so.” Just thinking about that was going to make me too anxious to concentrate or sleep for the rest of the week, though, so I quickly shifted gears. Picking up my fork again, I cocked a brow. “I’ve heard some rumors that there’s been a big crackdown on NAL refs. What’s that all about?”
“Oh, God.” Connor groaned and rolled his eyes. “It’s a fucking clown show, that’s what it is.”
“Oh yeah?” I reached for my drink. “Do tell.”
He paused as if to gather his thoughts—maybe deciding where to begin—then took a deep breath.
“So, a few seasons ago, there was some really weird officiating going on. Phantom penalties getting called while players were getting away with the most brazen shit.” He tsked and jabbed a piece of meat with his fork.
“I saw it firsthand, too, because I was paired up with one of the dirty refs for a bunch of games.”
“Really?” I leaned in a little. “You actually saw it happen?”
He nodded and took a bite. After a swallow of wine, he said, “The first time, I just thought maybe he really didn’t see it. It happens.” He half-shrugged. “We don’t see everything.”
“Right, of course.”
“Right. But then I watched the replay later, and it was blatant boarding. Like, no room for misinterpretation, and it was bad. Kid’s lucky he didn’t come away with a serious neck injury.
” Connor huffed sharply and rolled his eyes again.
“And there was that dickhead ref, looking right at them from about ten feet away.”
My jaw went slack. “And he let it go?”
“Yep. And shit like that kept happening. He and I almost got into a fistfight after one game because his ridiculous calls had tilted the game in one team’s favor and directly led to two significant injuries.”
I whistled. “So he’s one of the ones getting investigated?”
“I’m pretty sure they’re done investigating him. His career is over. The other officials—some of that’s still up in the air, but they’re suspended while the League figures it out.”
“Were they betting on the games or something?”
“Accepting bribes,” he grumbled. “The whistleblower was apparently on the coaching staff of one of the teams involved in the scandal.”
“Wow. And they’re still investigating?”
“Yep. Combing through hundreds of games over like five or six seasons, interviewing other officials, interviewing players.” He scowled. “To tell you the truth, I think the only reason it turned into such a huge stink was that it pissed off the sports betting companies.”
“You think so?”
Nodding, Connor made a face. “I think everyone involved would’ve been fired either way once it came out, but all the sports betting companies were yanking sponsorships and threatening massive lawsuits.
So I think a lot of this is just to appease them.
That’s why every last one of us got investigated, and also why we’re all under way more scrutiny than we used to be—the League’s biggest corporate sponsors have everyone walking on eggshells. ”
“Huh.” I sipped my wine. “I mean, I’m glad to hear they’re addressing it, but it would be nice if they took it this seriously when the sports betting overlords weren’t putting on the pressure.”
“I know, right?”
“Somehow I don’t think you have too much to worry about, though.”
His eyebrow flicked up.
I smiled. “You’ve been the most by-the-book official in the sport since you were refereeing kids’ games.” I made a mock toast with my wineglass before bringing it up for a sip. “Whoever got assigned to investigate you had the easiest job ever.”
Oh, God. That bashful smile… That blush…
How do I make you do that again?
Holy fuck. Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?
All too soon, we’d paid the bill and were heading out into the snowy night. The weather was cold but not unpleasant, with snowflakes drifting down and swirling around us.
My heart pounded as we walked. As dinner had wound down, I’d started having this strange now-or-never feeling.
The kind of feeling that happened during hockey games when I saw opportunities for scoring chances or takeaways.
Like there was no time to think or second guess—just do it before the opportunity evaporated.
Except what was I supposed to do right now? Ask him to get dinner again? Invite him up to my room? Or, well, see if he wanted me to join him in his room, since I had a roommate? Grab him and see if he still kissed as perfectly as he had when we were clueless teenagers?
The thought almost made me stumble. If Connor noticed, he didn’t say anything, which I appreciated. We continued walking, and my heart continued pounding as if some opportunity were slipping through my fingers.
Before this morning, I’d gone an embarrassingly long time without thinking about Connor at all. Now he was all I could think about, and I didn’t know if it was nostalgia, horniness, or some mix of the two, but I wanted him.
I tried to tell myself I was being ridiculous, but fuck me. I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I’d loved kissing him back then. Except that was stupid. We’d been kids. We were adults now.
Adults who were together in this city.
Alone on this street without another soul in sight.
What was stopping me from taking his hand, touching his face, and claiming that gorgeous, talented mouth?
Well, aside from the part where we were in public. Alone for now, but still in public. And while Prague was queer-friendly, not everyone was, and I didn’t like to take chances.
And I had no idea if Connor would even want me like that.
It was fun in our past life, but we’d been kids back then.
For all I knew, Connor had a boyfriend. Maybe even a husband or something.
During dinner, I’d tried to suss out if he was single, but I was too much of a stupid coward to just ask.
Because asking might imply that I was interested in him that way. Which I absolutely fucking was.
I just didn’t know if he was interested, and I didn’t want to make this weird.
I also didn’t want to let this evening end without some kind of connection. We had each other’s social media, which was a start, but we’d be in the same city for the next week. This couldn’t be the last time we saw each other.
Finally, I blurted out, “My teammates and I are going to the Bone Church tomorrow. You’re welcome to join us.”
I had no idea what they’d think of a referee joining us, but they’d get over it.
Connor blinked. “The… the what?”
“The…” I fumbled for an explanation, then stopped walking and did the same thing Mish had on the plane: took out my phone, looked it up, and handed it to him.
Obviously puzzled, Connor peered at the screen, but then something seemed to connect, and he straightened.
“Oh! I’ve heard about this place!” He nodded to himself as he scrolled the photos.
“I saw something about—I don’t know. On social media or something I guess.
” He looked up at me with a smile that lit up the whole street.
“I didn’t even realize it was in Prague. ”
“It’s… I guess it’s in another town, but it’s not far.”
He nodded again as he handed back my phone. “Sounds like fun. Do, uh…” He cringed a little. “Do you think your teammates will mind? If I join you?”
I couldn’t give a fuck less what they mind. I want you there.
I waved his concern away. “Nah, they’ll be fine. The more the merrier.” I paused. “I’m not sure how we’re getting there, though. It might be an organized tour or something.”
I had a split second to be sure I’d just talked him out of coming along, but then his smile returned.
“I rented a car,” he said. “I can meet you there. Do you know what time?”
I drew a blank. “Shit. No. I, uh… I can check with the guys when I get back to the hotel and text you?”
“Perfect.” He paused. “Should we, uh, exchange numbers? I just have you on that app.”
“Oh. Right. Good idea.”
We took out our phones, and I felt like a stupid kid for being this giddy over having Connor’s number.
As I pocketed it, I said, “I’ll text you as soon as I know a time.”
“Perfect.” He slid his phone into his coat, then gestured across the street. “That’s where I’m staying.”
I struggled to not let my disappointment show. “Okay. Well. I’m just a little farther…” I gestured down the block. “I’ll see you tomorrow, though?”
Oh, fuck. His smile.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
And as we continued in separate directions, numbers securely in each other’s phones…
I was looking forward to it, too.