Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“Second chances never are, but if you’ve got one, don’t squander it. Do everything to make it happen,” I say, my tone way intense for a morning run.
Or maybe it’s exactly as intense as it should be.
Because Holden’s not the only one who needs to follow that advice.
May
35
Grant
Twenty-four hours.
I’m seeing Declan in twenty-four hours. I haven’t seen him since February and this sex-camel lifestyle sucks.
Though, boyfriend desert is more like it. I’m trudging through the sand, trying to reach the oasis of Declan. I miss all of my man. I want to curl up with him and kiss him. I want to fuck him and talk to him. Hell, I want to learn to cook with him.
But, between baseball and charity work, friends and family, the days go by quickly. On Wednesday morning, I can’t sleep, knowing Declan is landing in this city tomorrow night. After a morning run and a long gym workout, I swing by The Lazy Hammock before it opens.
“What does it take to get some service around here?” I say as I stride into the joint.
River’s hunched over the bar, working on his laptop. “It takes my co-owner dishing the details on his love life,” my inked business partner says.
As I get near, he swivels his laptop away from me and looks up. I arch a brow as I head to the counter in the empty establishment. “Dude, were you just watching porn at work? Is that why you hid your laptop?”
Flicking his blond hair off his forehead, River rolls his brown eyes. “Why is that your default? Pot, kettle, perhaps?”
Laughing, I grab a stool. “You can bust me on a lot of things, but it’s pretty safe to say I don’t watch porn while I’m catching a game.”
“And I don’t watch it when I am balancing the books at our business enterprise. If you must know, I was finishing this beautiful spreadsheet, but I can show you a preview. But fair warning—it’s so sexy you might come in your pants.”
River spins the laptop back around, clicks on the spreadsheet, and shows me all sorts of multiples and ROI and lots of yummy numbers stuff.
“That does, indeed, make me need to change my shorts. You did good on this place,” I tell him proudly.
“No. We did. We made this happen together.”
“You get the credit, my man. Ten cities. The bar is killing it,” I say, then sigh as I glance around, a little wistful. This place means a lot to me. “I can’t wait for Declan to check it out again.”
River’s eyes twinkle. “Now you’re talking—dish on your love life. I want to hear all about Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome.”
My business partner is the only one who knows I’m back together with the shortstop. It’s been good to have River to talk to. He’s been in on it from the start, from that first night in Phoenix. He’s been supportive too, trusting my judgement. More important, I trust it too.
“He arrives tomorrow. I’m about to claw my way out of my skin. I can’t wait.” That seems to be how I feel about a lot of things, though—I’m waiting, and I can’t wait for the next thing. “But he’ll have to leave in twenty-four hours.”
“Then we’ll have to start a countdown till the off-season, hun. You two can spend every hour together, then.”
“We probably will.”
“And I hate you for that,” River says with a wink. “Meanwhile, I’ll be here at this bar, literally meeting every hot gay guy in a ten-mile radius and still not finding Mr. Right.”
“Your Mr. Right is out there,” I say. “Maybe he’s even someone you’ve known for a long time.”
He shoots me a what-are-you-talking-about look. “And who might that be?”
I shrug, then smile. “Someone you’ve mentioned a few times.”
He tilts his head to the side. “Spill the beans on my Mr. Right. Now. I demand it.”
“Your friend Owen, from college.”
River shakes his head, scoffing. “No, no, no. We are just friends. He can’t be my Mr. Right.”
Whatever he has to tell himself. All I know is mine arrives tomorrow night.
The Cougars afternoon game against the Miami Aces is a win, and I go home to shower and get ready for the event at the art gallery. Black slacks, a dark purple button-down, and I’m good to go.
As I head downstairs to the garage, my phone bleats with a news notification from the Sports Network.
I slide it open as I get in my car and freeze before I turn on the engine.
* * *
Is Declan Steele on the trading block? A source tells us the golden glove shortstop for the New York Comets might be trade bait for Seattle or Los Angeles.
My heart springs wildly. Holy shit. If this is real . . .
My fingertips tingle with excitement.
Los Angeles is so much closer. Los Angeles is practically a bus ride away. Seattle is close too, only a two-hour flight.