Winning With Him by Lauren Blakely

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?”

He scratches his jaw. “What do you mean?”

I push forward. I am bold. “Do you have a place here in the city?”

“I don’t,” he says, shaking his head. “I need to sell my New York apartment.”

“Did you get a hotel room here? Did the team give you one?”

“No. When the traveling director contacted me yesterday to make arrangements, she asked if I needed a place. I took a chance. I figured I could stay with you for a couple days.” He swallows roughly, working his jaw over, a hint of nerves flickering in those brown eyes. “I can go to a hotel.” He sounds worried.

I cut that notion off at the knees. I step into his space. Curl my hands over his shoulders. And I jump. “I want you to live with me. Will you move in with me? There’s no point in us having two separate places, is there?”

Holy shit. My voice went up ten octaves. That was harder than I thought. But I’ve always spoken the truth to him. Now I’m simply speaking a big truth.

A bold, love-drenched one.

Like the sun peeking over the horizon, Declan’s smile rises, slow and steady, growing bigger, growing bolder. “You want me to move in with you right now?” He sounds . . . awestruck.

I march forward with my question, powered by hope. “I do. Maybe I’m being presumptuous, but I feel like you’re probably going to be here every night you’re in town. Or I’d be at your place.”

“Then, this is a practical thing?”

Shaking my head, I step closer, sliding between the V of his legs. My hands travel down to rest on his forearms. “It is practical, but I’m not asking you because of that. I’m asking because I want to be with you, Deck. When I go home after a game, I want to see you, if you’re in town. When you’re done playing, I want you to come home to me. I want to sleep with you, and I mean both ways—sex and sleep. I want to wake up next to you. This morning was heaven. It was a dream. You and me in bed together,” I say, the recall sending sparks over my skin.

“You are the best way to wake up, rookie,” he says, all morning gravel and sleepy sexiness.

“See? I even like it when you call me rookie. I’m that in love with you. And when you’re in love like this, you just want to grab all the time you can get with your person. You’re my person,” I tell him, emotions pouring out of me. And I can’t stop them, especially when he clasps our hands together.

“You’re my person too, Grant.”

I keep going. “When we have a morning off, like today, I want us to throw on some clothes and walk down the street to get a cup of coffee. Or go for a run. Or walk across the bridge. Or go to Crosby’s mom’s café. Or to Sierra’s bar. To get a not-drink.”

Declan laughs. He threads his fingers tightly through mine, squeezing harder. “We are good with the not-drinks.” The smile never leaves his face. “We’re really good at a lot of things, Grant.”

“We are,” I say, my heart thumping as we inch closer to this next step. “We figured out how to do the long-distance thing. You’ve been my boyfriend since February. Hell, we were together for all intents and purposes that day you called me after the World Series. That was us starting again. And here we are. I don’t want to be half together. I want to be all together.”

He gives a firm, but tender tug on my hands. “Are you worried I’m going to say no, babe?”

“Yes, I’m terrified.”

Declan lets go of my hand to graze his thumb across my lower lip then presses a kiss there. “Don’t be scared of a thing with me. My answer is yes,” he says, intense and passionate. I breathe a huge sigh of relief as he keeps going. “I would love to live with you. I want to come home to you. I want to have a life with you. So much.”

Then he stops, drawing a deep, soldiering breath, and I tense.

“What is it? I know there’s a but coming. Just tell me,” I say, frazzled and out of sorts.

He lets go of my face, sets his hands on my hips, shakes his head. “If you’re picking up any worry or fear, it’s only because of what I have to tell you.”

My stomach craters. “Just say it. You drive me crazy sometimes.”

“I don’t want to scare you away,” he says, his voice thin with worry.

“You won’t,” I say, desperate to know what’s going on.

“I asked for the trade,” he blurts, serving up the admission in a messy heap, like a scoop of melted ice cream, spilling all over the bowl.

I tilt my head and rub my knuckle against my ear in disbelief. “What did you just say?”

“When I saw Carla a couple weeks ago, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt how I felt. I knew we were happening, that we were never going to unhappen, and I had to find a way to be with you. I even talked to Holden when he was in New York,” Declan confesses.

“You told Holden about us?”

“No,” he says emphatically.

I laugh. “I actually don’t care if you did. I want everyone to know I’m in love with you. But keep going, now that you’re not freaking me out anymore.”

He squeezes my hip. “Holden and I went for a run. We were talking about second chances, and there was some woman he wanted to have a second chance with,” he tells me.

I crack up. “Reese?”

“Holden is involved with your Reese?”

I nod, big and long. “Dude, I showed you my note last night. I said both of our boyfriends were on the Dragons.”

“Ah,” he says with a nod of understanding. “That actually makes a lot of sense now. But I didn’t know it when he was telling me about a woman he was longing for. And I said if you have a second chance, you have to do everything to make it happen.” Declan gives a sweet shrug. His voice goes low, tender. “This is my everything. I have nearly ten years of service in the majors. My contract was coming up at the end of the season. Before I could become a free agent, I made a pitch for the Dragons to pick me up instead. I knew that would make me more attractive in a trade.”

“You could go anywhere. Any team would have you,” I say, bursting with excitement. He chose to come here. To a team that’s struggling. To a team that’s reshaping itself after a speckled history and a cheating scandal. When Declan could have the pick of the litter, he chose . . . me.

Just me.

That’s the choice he made.

I’ve never felt so wanted.

I loop my hands around his neck, scooting closer, basking in the best story ever.

“And I didn’t want to go just anywhere,” he continues. “I only wanted to be here. The Comets wanted prospects, so Vaughn worked his magic to see if the Dragons would pick up my contract. And we made a deal that they could extend my contract for the same price.”

My eyes pop. “But you could get a massive raise at the end of the season as a free agent.”

“I make enough money. I make more than enough money for many lives. I don’t need more. I need you,” he says, letting go of my hip to roam a hand up my torso, spreading his palm over my heart and melting me completely. “I wanted to be with you, Grant. And you mentioned once you have a no-trade clause, which is unusual at your age, and also awesome, so I figured if I could get out here, maybe you really would be stuck with me.”

I beam. “I had a feeling your trade wasn’t just a lucky break. I swear, it felt almost too good to be true. But you made it happen.” I lift my face to the ceiling, feeling like all the sunshine in the world is shining golden rays down on me. I clasp his cheeks, hold his face. “You’re never getting rid of me. You are so stuck with me. If you thought I was in love with you before, now I’m, like, twelve million times more.”

My boyfriend just laughs as I serve up my overjoyed heart on a silver platter, then he asks, “And you know what I have to say to that?”