Winning With Him (Men of Summer 2)

“I don’t even know if this is unusual,” I confess, glancing at words I’ve already memorized. “I haven’t really dated much. Is this normal?”

River sighs heavily, then nods. “Yes and no. It happens to everyone, no matter their orientation. Just recently, some jackass sent my sister, Echo, a breakup text after they went out for a month.” He growls, and that snarl is at odds with his usual laid-back vibe. “I had half a mind to hightail it up to California and tell him what I thought of him. But Echo can take care of herself. She’s fierce. Still, it’s shitty no matter who it happens to.” River scratches his jaw, seeming lost in thought. “It’s weird, though, what happened to you.”

“Why is it weird?”

The bartender frowns for a beat like he’s trying to figure out what to say. When he meets my eye, his gaze is intense. “It’s weird that your guy sent this.” He taps the phone I set on the bar. “Every time you were here with him—well, both times—he was so into you.” River is emphatic, like he’s making an impassioned point.

And that point feels like a sledgehammer smashing into me.

“Like there was no one else,” River says, sounding kind of dreamy. “If a man looked at me that way . . .”

An inconvenient shiver runs down my spine at the memory of how Declan stared at me like I was his, and he was mine, and we were inseparable. “It felt that way to me too, but what do I know?”

River taps his chest. “Let me tell you what I know.” He counts off on his fingers. “That man was jealous. He was possessive. He was proud of you. My God, he looked at you like he had won the boyfriend lottery.”

My throat knots with emotion. Everything I felt during spring training overflows, a suitcase tumbling open, feelings spilling onto the floor. First it was friendship, then flirting, then unchecked lust, then unbridled passion, and soon it became more.

It felt like love.

“Boyfriend lottery,” I muse as I finish my drink. “It felt that way to me too.”

River heaves a sigh. “I don’t get it. I don’t understand men.”

I scoff. “Me neither, River. Me neither.”

He pats my arm and tips his head to the end of the bar where something needs his attention. “I’ll be right back.”

When he leaves, I stare at my phone, studying Declan’s message a little longer, a little harder.

It hurts, but not as much as it did the other night. When the hurt ebbs, will the memories of him fade away? Do I want them to?

A sharp pain thrashes through my body.

Yes. I want the memories erased.

Before I can change my mind, I act on the decision.

I delete his text.

His contact info is gone; time to trash the message string.

I don’t need him. I don’t need a boyfriend. I don’t even need another drink. And I really don’t need to ruin my body with a drunken bender the night before another game.

River returns and gestures to the glass. “Can I get you another?”

“No, thanks.” I screw up the corner of my lips, considering something else to drink. Nothing sugary, full of useless calories. And not iced tea because that’s what Declan always drank. I need a drink that doesn’t remind me of him. Maybe I can learn to like seltzer water.

I shrug. “Something without liquor.”

River arches one brow. “Want a virgin piña colada?”

I crack up. “Virgin. Very funny.”

River’s eyes widen and his mouth forms an exaggerated oh of realization, and he drops his voice to a whisper, full of avid curiosity. “Was he your first?”

I roll my eyes. “Typical, right? The virgin gets dumped when the stud leaves town.”

The bartender shows his teeth and brandishes his claws with a hiss. “I want to slice him to pieces with my rhetoric.”

I laugh, a deep, hearty one from my belly. “I appreciate that. It’s good to have you in my corner.”

“Listen. He’ll have to answer to your new friend River if he so much as shows up here ever again.”

A smile tugs at my lips. “I could use a friend.”

“Friends stay,” River says, firmly confident. “Men come and go.”

“I only have a test group of one, but one hundred percent of my test subjects confirm that theory.”

“Let’s make a pact to never sleep with each other,” my new friend says, flicking his blond hair off his forehead. “No sexing, no matter how irresistible I am.”

I crack up. “Was that even on the table?” It wasn’t for me, but that has nothing to do with River and everything to do with Declan.

River shoots me a don’t you dare look. “You’re adorable, but no. We weren’t. I just wanted to establish that guideline—lots of people think the bartender might be up for a good time. But you and I are going to be friends because we both need that from each other, right?”