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

It took me more than five years to be ready. Took me losing him, trying to win him back and failing. Took us spending years apart so I could look into the mirror and learn who I was and who I needed to be. Took me making the commitment to change.

And then it took me actually changing.

Now, here I am.

We walk around the front of his car, link hands, and walk into the fairground.

We aren’t hounded by sports media. There are no news networks here. It’s just a carnival for charity, and as we walk past the ring toss, Grant jerks up his chin, catching someone’s attention. His eyes light up. He lifts his free hand and waves to a toned Black teen with long hair cinched in a ponytail.

“Hey, Topaz,” he calls.

She bounds over, a willowy white blonde by her side.

“Wait! You finally asked out Olive?” Grant asks.

The blonde smiles. “She did.” Olive smacks Topaz affectionately. “Also, you told Grant you were going to ask me out?”

Topaz smiles, owning it. “I did. Showed him your pic. He said, ‘Go for it.’”

Olive smiles at my guy. “Then I owe you a big thank you because I was so shy. I kept hoping she’d ask me to go to this.”

Their eyes drift to our hands.

Topaz shimmies then squeals. “Shut up! Are you two together?”

With pride surging in me, I kiss Grant’s cheek then wrap my arm around his shoulder. “Yes, I’m Declan Steele. His boyfriend.”

She smacks me playfully on the arm. These two are swatters, apparently. A perfect match. Maybe they both like Gossip Girl too. “I know who you are!” Topaz says. “I’m a huge Dragons fan. I was so excited to hear about your trade.” She presses her hands together in prayer. “Please, please, please get us a World Series.”

“That’s the goal,” I say.

Grant bumps his shoulder to mine. “Aww, someone likes the Dragons.”

Topaz waggles her phone. “Can I take your pic? Post it?”

“You better,” Grant says.

With my arm around his shoulders, his around my waist, we smile for the camera in front of the ring toss. It’s a far cry from the picture a fan took in Arizona at a hockey game. We don’t need a cover and won’t ever need one again.

As we say goodbye and walk past an aisle of balloon and dart games, I know exactly what I do need.

Him.

Just him.





Epilogue





Grant



* * *



At the dunk tank, I take aim, and hurl a baseball at the target—my guy.

Declan plunges into the water with a loud splash.

As I crack up, my photographer friend strides up to me, checking the back of his camera. “A fantastic visual record of you annihilating your former teammate at the carnival,” Asher says.

Ah, this will be fun. Another chance to tell our own story. “He’s not just my former teammate. He’s my boyfriend.”

That makes me feel all kinds of proud to say.

Asher asks for details, and I serve them up, since I love sharing that we’re together, then add, “Also, can I twist your arm to take our pic with my phone? I would love to post a really good photo on social.”

“You do know a lot of companies pay me a lot of money rather than twisting my arm,” he teases.

I wink. “And I know you’re not such a dick that you’d charge a friend.”

“Don’t count on that. I might be that big a dick,” he says, as Declan comes over from the tank, drying off.

I grin at the sight of him. Can’t help it.

“You’re far gone for him, aren’t you?” Asher asks.

“All the way.” I hand Asher my phone, then I slide in next to the man who asked for a trade to be with me. The man who put his heart on the line for me.

Like I did for him.

Like I know we’ll keep doing for each other.

We smile, and I can’t wait to share this pic.

Asher hands me back my phone, says goodbye, and takes off. As Declan and I walk through the grounds, we run into Jason, the high school quarterback.

“Hey Grant,” he says, then nods at Declan. “Is this your . . . ?”

Declan jumps in with the answer. “Yes, I’m his boyfriend.”

The smile on Jason’s face is another reason why I do what I do. He hangs with us, taking a pic, as we make our way to the pie toss.

And then my face becomes the recipient of key lime, lemon meringue, and cherry too as carnival goer after carnival goer steps right up. When it’s Jason’s turn, he lands a coconut cream pie right on my face.

I wipe the coconut cream off my nose, shaking a finger at him. “Your aim is way too good.”

“Let’s hope it’s good. That’s the job at QB. But . . . want me to throw another? I think there was a key lime pie somewhere.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, but I appreciate the offer.”

“Anytime,” Jason says with a smile, then heads off to join some friends, while Declan strides over to me now that my time is done at the pie toss.

“You look so cute with coconut cream on your face,” he teases as I wipe off the pie as best I can.

“Why don’t you lick it off?” I ask.

He looks at the people milling around us. “I would, but there’s no way I could lick your face without everybody knowing just how dirty I want to get with you later.”