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)
“It tastes like sludge,” he says, but his tone says it tastes like heaven.
“Why do you say it like that? Like you like my sludge?”
“Because it’s so cute that you made it for me. It’s the sweetest thing in a long list of sweet boyfriend things you’ve done. Even if your iced tea tastes terrible.”
“But I bought fancy tea bags. New Republic or something,” I say, gesturing to the pitcher of . . . well, sludge.
“It’s not the brand. I think maybe you used twenty when you needed five.”
I crinkle my nose. “There’s a recipe for iced tea?”
Declan cracks up, tossing his head back. “Yes. It’s a thing you eat or drink like anything else. It has a recipe.” He heaves a sigh. “We really do need cooking classes, don’t we?”
“Iced tea classes too,” I grumble.
“But I love the thought,” he says.
“I told you—I’m good at ordering, not making,” I say, then grab my phone again and brandish it. “I’m excellent at socializing. Let me get these texts out.”
I fire off a group text to Crosby, Holden, Chance, Sierra, Sullivan, and Miguel, inviting them to the Dragons game tomorrow against the Chicago Sharks.
* * *
Grant: Did you hear the news? Former Coug Declan Steele is back in town, playing shortstop for the other team. Tix are on me. First pitch is at seven. In or out?
* * *
I fire off a note to River, inviting him, then I send a separate note to Reese.
* * *
Grant: Soooooo . . . Declan’s here. At my house. We’re together. As in together together. We have been since February. It’s amazing. We’re crazy in love, and I didn’t tell you because . . . we’ve been trying to figure out how to make everything work. But since he’s going to be in town it’s going to work better than I ever imagined. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier. I’ll tell you everything next time I see you, but for now, do you want to go to the Dragons game tomorrow with a bunch of us? You and me can root for our boyfriends. What a crazy thought. Our boyfriends play on the same team.
* * *
After I hit send, she replies at the speed of light.
* * *
Reese: SHUT THE FRONT DOOR!!!!!!!!!!! I’M SO HAPPY FOR YOU, AND YOU’RE IN TROUBLE FOR NOT TELLING ME.
* * *
I show the Reese exchange to Declan.
He smiles like he can’t stop, then the doorbell rings. Bounding over to it, I say hi to Oscar, thank him, and bring the food to the kitchen. We eat and make a plan for telling the rest of our friends, then we go to bed, crashing together upstairs in my bedroom.
Knowing he’s not leaving tomorrow is the best thing ever.
In the morning, I wake to his arms around me, and his erection pressed against my back.
He’s still the only man who’s ever spent the night.
Pretty sure he’s the only one who ever will.
When he stirs, I take advantage of our morning wood, turning around, pressing my body against his, and soon, very soon, he’s on his back, I’m grinding against him, and we’re enjoying the best way ever to wake up.
A morning rub-off.
After we clean up, we’re back in bed, curled together, talking, laughing, planning our day.
I could get used to this view.
The view of him.
Him and me.
The idea of us isn’t a Jenga tower at all. It’s Lego-block solid and steady.
That means it’s time to ask him a question.
40
Grant
The morning has brought with it three facts.
1. Nothing worth having comes easily.
2. If you want to be successful, you have to work at it.
3. I want my relationship with Declan to be wildly successful.
That means our lives won’t fall into place magically. Declan might be here in my bed on a Thursday morning, but will he be there the next day, and the day after that?
I’m not worried he’s going to run off and leave me. I’m over that.
Declan’s only been back in town for less than twenty-four hours, but I know what I want—that odd sensation I felt last night at the fridge.
Once we’re up and about, and I’ve made a cup of coffee in the kitchen, I take a fueling sip, set down the mug, then swallow past the butterflies.
Butterflies, not nerves.
I refuse to be nervous. The man showed up last night for me. Told me he said yes to a trade for us. That’s why I want to go first. “So I’m going to work on learning how to make iced tea for you,” I tell him, taking that little step.
Declan chuckles, then shakes his head. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. I want to do all these things with you,” I say, breathless. Hell, maybe I am a little nervous. Briefly, I turn my gaze to the kitchen window where the morning sunlight streams in. I snap my eyes back to him. “There’s a whole city out there. Where do you want to live?”