Winning With Him (Men of Summer #2) by Lauren Blakely

Declan smiles softly, presses a kiss to my forehead. “I’m not worried. Not about that. Not one bit.” When he pulls back, he runs a thumb over my jaw. “But when and how do you want to do this?”

The corner of my lips quirk in a grin. “Well, I had an idea . . .”

I tell him, laying out my plan. One that will kick in tomorrow night.

“I love it. I’m all in,” Declan says.

“Good. Now I have a little gift for you.”

“I do love your gifts,” he says.

We head to the kitchen, and I open the fridge, hunting for something I made for him. While I poke around the shelves, I give him a butt waggle—I’m thoughtful like that.

He whistles his approval. “Yes, I like the view a whole lot.”

I freeze. His words—I like the view—echo, filling my mind with ideas. I could get used to the view of him too. Right here in my house. Just like this.

In seconds, I build the Jenga Tower of what that might look like. Him and me in my home.

Is it too soon, though?

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, sure,” I say absently, trying to focus on the task at hand, rather than create a wobbly tower for a future too damn soon.

“You kind of zoned out for a minute.”

I blink, collecting my thoughts. “I was just thinking of a fastball I called for the other day, wondering if it was the best one,” I lie, then reach for the pitcher of iced tea.

Straightening, I turn, set the pitcher on the corner, and gesture with a flourish. “Ta-da.”

“What have we here?”

“I made you iced tea,” I say proudly.

“Whoa.”

“I know, I know. Prepare to be amazed.”

He hums, lifts a questioning brow. “Is it any good?”

I park my hands on my hips. “It’s tea. How hard can it be to make it good?”

“Let’s find out,” he says, then spins around, scanning my cupboards. “Where do you keep the glasses?”

I point to the cabinet with the cups. As Declan strides over to grab a glass, the ideas stack higher. But are they a Jenga tower? Will they come toppling down?

He offers me a glass. “Want some?”

“Yes.” I try to stay in the here and now.

He pours two glasses, and I sit next to him on a stool at the counter, grabbing my phone. “I’m going to invite peeps tomorrow. To the game,” I say as he slides me a glass.

“Sounds good. Are you telling them over text that you have a killer crush on the town’s hottest new athlete?” he asks as he lifts his glass.

I shoot him a don’t-tempt-me look. “If that’s what you want me to say, I will.”

Declan laughs, shakes his head, takes a drink. His eyes flash with approval as he swallows. When he sets down the glass, he wraps an arm around me, tugs me close. He drops his nose into my hair, inhales me, presses a kiss to the top of my head. Goose bumps cover me and I close my eyes and set down my phone without opening my texts. “This is the best worst iced tea I’ve ever had,” he whispers.

I jerk away. “What’s wrong with it?”

“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.