Winning With Him (Men of Summer 2)

This is the real cloud nine—right here with him.

“Tomorrow,” he says, cracking up. Then he shrugs. “Sorry I ruined our day off.”

“Yeah, I’m so sorry too,” I say, joining his laughter. “That’s the worst—that we don’t have a day off together. Instead, we have to live in the same city.”

“I guess now you know why I’m here early.” Declan can’t wipe the damn grin off his face.

Good. I want it there forever. I want to keep putting it there. “When did you find out?”

“This afternoon,” he says. “Vaughn called. Asked if I wanted to play for the Dragons.”

“What did you say?” I’m dying for every detail.

“Yes, obviously.”

I motion for him to keep going because that’s not going to cut it. “No shit, but walk me through it, Deck.”

“I was in the back seat of a Lyft on my way to the Bandits ballpark for the last game of our series, when my phone rang. My agent called me when I was about a mile away and said ‘Do you want to be a Dragon?’ And, Grant, I didn’t even have to think. I said yes in a split second. All I could think was I could see you. That we could be together,” he says. “I got on a plane two hours later. I didn’t call because I wanted to tell you in person. I had to tell you in person.”

My throat tightens with emotion. But it’s the good kind, the kind you encourage and embrace.

I rope my fingers into Declan’s hair. “I told you the jury was still out on whether the World Series win was my favorite night ever, right?”

“I remember you saying that.”

I shrug, with a smile. “This is why I couldn’t commit. Because this is my favorite night ever now.”

“Stop. You’ll make me fall deeper in love with you,” Declan says, pressing his forehead to mine.

“You don’t want me to stop.”

He shakes his head. “Never.”

“Come over tonight. And tomorrow. And the next night,” I say, full of hope.

“Yes.”

I kiss him tenderly this time, slowly, wanting to remember every second of how this kiss feels.

Because it’s another brand-new start. Another second chance.

36

Declan

My mother is waiting at Grant’s front door. Next to her is Tyler, with my duffel bag at his feet. Grant sees them as he turns into the driveway, and he slows to a stop. Then he looks at me, lifting a questioning brow. “I’m sure your family is super cool, but are we hanging out with them tonight? I’m fine with that, but I do really want to fuck and cuddle you all night long.”

The way he asks is adorable, as if he would suffer through family even if he’s as ready as I am for the great naked fest.

“No,” I say, shaking my head as he cuts the engine. “But Mom did kind of know about my trade before you did.”

Grant narrows his blue eyes at me in pretend anger. “And why is that?”

“I couldn’t very well show up at the art gallery, holding a duffel bag and looking for you. We haven’t figured that part out yet.”

Grant sets a hand on my thigh. “We will. Soon. Because you and I should be free to do that.”

“And we will be. But I was being practical. When I landed at SFO, I called her and asked if I could drop my bag at her house on the way to the gallery. And then when we drove away from the bridge, I texted her to please bring it over here.”

He smiles. “Your mom’s cool.”

“She is. Let’s go say hi to her again.”

We get out of the car and meet my mom on the front steps. I clap Grant on his shoulder, keeping my hand on this man I love. “Mom, you already met Grant. Grant, this is Tyler. My stepfather.”

Grant steps forward, extends a hand. “Good to meet you, sir.”

“Good to meet you too. And thank you.”

Grant’s brows lift. “For making Declan happy?”

“Well, that. But mostly, thank you for the five hits, four RBIs, and the excellent work behind the plate last fall, getting us a World Series win.”

I roll my eyes. “Seriously? I’ve just been traded to the Dragons, and you are fanboying all over my boyfriend?”

Tyler snaps his gaze to me and adopts a surprised but delighted expression. “Oh, it’s good to see you too, Declan. But,” he says, giving a what-can-you-do shrug, “Grant is the one who helped us get a World Series win.”

Grant nudges me with his elbow. “The man is right. You should really let him fanboy for a minute.”

I toss my hands in the air. “Fine. Go ahead and fanboy over Grant Blackwood.”

My mom squeezes my shoulder. “Look on the bright side. At least we don’t have to pretend to root for the Comets anymore.”

“You never rooted for the Comets, pretend or otherwise! Maybe you’re the reason we didn’t win a World Series. Hell, that’s why they traded for me five years ago—to try to win a World Series.”