The door to the store opens. I turn to look and am shocked to see Conor Nilsen with his wife, Eloise, walking through the door.
Shit, I thought Callie’s stomach was growing. Eloise looks ready to pop.
“Eloise!” Amanda walks over, and the two of them hug as best as they’re able to with her stomach.
Conor stares after his wife but catches me watching and laughs. “Shit, what are the chances?” He comes over and puts out his hand.
“Enjoying off season?” I ask as we shake hands.
“Getting some reading material since Eloise just got put on bedrest until the baby comes. This is her happy place, so here we are before we head back home.” He pats me on the back and glances at the sports romance shelf I was looking at. “Didn’t figure you for a romance reader.”
“No. My…” I have no label for Callie. Baby momma makes me want to throw up. Friend isn’t nearly accurate enough.
Conor must realize my hesitation because he laughs again. “Carlisle’s sister, right?”
I nod, thankful for the out. “She’s back there somewhere.” I thumb in the direction Callie disappeared.
“Piece of advice? Don’t get all jealous of her falling for some book boyfriend. If the book is good enough, you’ll reap the benefits.” He winks, and I huff out a laugh.
Conor and all the Falcons are cool. Sometimes at Peeper’s, we all end up in the backroom together, and it’s usually a lot of fun. From what Hayes told me, Hayes, Decker, and Easton came into the building after Conor, Tweetie, and Rowan moved out. All three of the hockey players bought houses on the same street as Henry Hensley, and the four of them are raising their families together as neighbors. I can’t even imagine being that close with my teammates.
“I hope you’re not thinking you’ll find a baseball book up here.” He points toward the wall.
I turn to inspect all the covers, realizing quickly that the majority of them have hockey players on them. One after the other—hockey, hockey, hockey. Puck this and puck that.
“What the hell?” I raise my hand. “Hey Amanda, can you come here for a second?”
Conor laughs and crosses his arms, settling in. Amanda walks over, and Eloise follows. Conor gives a brief introduction between his wife and me.
“You here by yourself or with someone?” Eloise looks around, and her eyes light up when she sees Callie walking around the end of the row. “Callie!”
Guess they’ve met before.
Then she’s gone.
Amanda looks at Conor first. “Hey, Conor. Sorry, no book has been fan-fictioned off of you yet that I know of.”
“I heard Piper Rayne might be writing one.” He shrugs.
“I’ll keep my eyes out.” She shakes her head, and I get the feeling this is a conversation they’ve had before.
“Look for Mr. Swoony. I think the title fits me. Right, Lulu? Me as Mr. Swoony?” Conor calls to Eloise, and she smiles, but it’s appeasing.
“Amanda, are you hiding the baseball books in the back or something?” I scour the covers, and hockey outnumbers baseball twenty to one. There are even more football books than baseball ones.
She cringes. “I’m sorry, hockey is really big in sports romance.”
“Why?”
Conor’s eyebrows rise. “Do you really have to ask? We have to chase a little black puck around with a stick while we’re on skates and our opponents try to slam us into the boards. What’s the most you guys get—a pinkie sprain or a calf pull?”
I tilt my head. “First of all, look at me. I look a helluva lot tougher than you.”
“Why, because you have neck tattoos?”
I purposely position my head so I’m staring down at him. “I’ve got you by a few inches.”
“I don’t think this is a competition,” Amanda says. “If they write ’em and they sell, I’ll stock ’em.”
