“Alright, alright, alright,” Crosby drawls. “I picked the right person to tell my story, then.” He tips his chin to Sullivan. “What about you, my friend?”
“I’m tempted to say Morgan Freeman because everyone wants to say Morgan Freeman, but really, I think I’m going to go with Hugh Jackman,” he says.
Declan cracks up. “You’re not Australian.”
Sullivan jerks his head back. “So what? Hugh Jackman is awesome, isn’t he?”
Declan laughs. “You won’t get any argument from me there.” My boyfriend tosses a glance to me. “And what about you?”
Before I can answer, Sierra sails in with a tray of drinks. “Wait. Is this the ‘who’d narrate my life’ question?”
“You know us so well,” Chance says, flashing her a smile as she hands out the fresh round. “Who’d narrate yours?”
After she gives Chance a beer, she taps her chin, then says, “A badass rock star who doesn’t take shit from anyone.”
She leaves, and Chance’s jaw might be hanging open. That’s Sierra—exiting on a high note.
It’s my turn now. “I’d have to go with Daniel Craig since I’m a fan of James Bond,” I say in my terrible accent.
Declan laughs. “Rookie, you always did suck at the English accents.”
We didn’t plan this moment. We didn’t decide when we’d tell our buds. But as Declan and I lock eyes, we both know—this is it. “So, there’s something we wanted to tell all of you,” I say.
Declan dips his head, laughs slightly, then looks up. “We being him and me,” he clarifies, pointing from him to me.
I set down my pool cue. Declan does the same. I step closer to my guy.
Crosby, Chance, Sullivan, and even Holden have the decency to wipe the I already figured this out when you lost your mind rooting for him at the game expressions off their faces.
“What’s that?” Chance asks like he has no clue, when he clearly has all of them.
Declan swallows and reaches for my hand, linking our fingers. “We’re together,” he says, meeting their eyes. “We wanted you guys to know first. Before the media finds out that we’re living together.”
My heart doesn’t just soar. It takes a rocket-fast trip around the solar system and then lands right back in his hands where it belongs.
“That’s not really all there is to tell, Deck,” I tease him.
He arches a brow. “What did I leave out?”
I point at the guys. “Tell them I’m awesome at cuddling. They doubted me. Last month, before you were back in town, they called me out on it, man.”
Declan laughs, holds his hands out wide, and announces to the crew, “Grant Blackwood is a world-class cuddler.”
I plant a kiss on his stubbly cheek, smacking loudly. “There. Now it’s official. They know.”
Crosby clears his throat, adopting a blank expression. “Thank you for spelling it out. I literally had no idea that Grant was rooting for Declan at the game.”
Chance chimes in next. “We absolutely couldn’t tell that Grant was way more excited than he’s ever been about anyone else on another team hitting in a run.”
Declan wraps his arm around me, squeezing my shoulder hard. “Aw, that’s so cute. You were rooting for your boyfriend even though he plays for the other team?”
I growl at him. “Don’t make me regret cheering you on.”
Sullivan clears his throat. “From the look of it, I don’t think there’s anything Declan would do that would make Grant regret that.”
I heave an aggrieved sigh, but I love how obvious we are. This is the good obvious. “Fine. Fine. You’re all right.”
Holden raises a hand. “I have to know—did this start after the Sports Network Awards? Maybe right around that morning when Grant got that burger from DoorDash?”
I stare, stony-faced, at them. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
43
Grant
We don’t stay for long.
On the way home from the Spotted Zebra, Declan’s phone beeps. For a second, I tense.
If it’s not his dad now, I suspect his father will be in touch soon. But we’ll deal with that together.
Declan glances at the text message. “It’s a note from someone at the Alliance. Wants to know if I can go to that carnival this weekend. Do the dunk tank and pie toss as a celebrity guest.”
“Will you do it?”
He nods as he types. “Definitely.”
In the past, Declan has had a different approach to charity, preferring to support with money rather than time. That’s awesome and I love that he puts his wallet toward what matters. But lately, he’s been volunteering, and I can’t deny that it’s so damn sexy to see him step up in a new way.
It’s even sexier when he says, “Do you want to go to the carnival together?”
I slow the car at the light, look at him with wonder, and say, “Yes, and you asking me to do that is so incredibly sexy that you need to fuck me when we get home.”
He cracks up. “That’s all it takes? Me agreeing to go to an LGBTQ carnival with you gets me mandatory topping?”
“Yup. I’m so turned on right now, I’m going to get on my hands and knees for you, and you’re going to screw me right off the bed.”
“Maybe drive a little faster. And that’s mandatory.”
After I shower, I crawl into bed with my boyfriend. As I wrap my arms around him, he dips his face to my neck, pressing a hot open-mouthed kiss against my collarbone. “Why is it that you smell so good no matter what?”
“Because you’re attracted to my pheromones,” I say like it’s obvious.
“I’m sure, but sometimes you have this smell like you came out of a barbershop. That gets me going. Sometimes you’re all sweaty like you just worked out. That turns me on. And then sometimes, you’re just all shower sexy. And that makes me rock fucking hard.”
“So basically, I turn you on all the time is what you’re saying?”
A sexy rumble is my answer. “You do.”
“Do you think we surprised anyone tonight?”
Declan laughs and shakes his head. “No, because you can’t keep a secret, evidently. I let you go to the game with our friends, my mom, and what do you do?”
“I didn’t blab,” I protest.
“You don’t have to blab. You probably had that dreamy, faraway look in your eyes.”
“My grandpa used to say I got that look when I talked about you.”
He drops a kiss to my jaw. “I bet everyone saw your dreamy faraway look.”
“I bet they did. And guess what?”
“What?”
“I don’t care. My life is an open book. Now everyone else gets to know the best part of my life—that I’m with you,” I say, nuzzling his neck.
“I like you so much I’ll even post you on my social media,” he says.
“Whoa. Shit is getting real.”
Laughing, he reaches for my hips. “Get closer to me,” Declan urges, and I climb over him, straddling him, then lower my chest so our pecs rub together, our erections lining up.