Page 50 of Love of the Game
Gavin butted in. “Wait, you two haven’t been on adateyet? But you’re dating?” He raised an eyebrow at Jon. “I heard about your rules.”
“Not an ‘official’ date,” Jon said, with air-quotes. “But we got to know each other pretty well before we—” He waved his hand.
I put an arm around Jon. “He broke his rules for me.”
“The universe conspired against dinner dates,” Jon countered. “Case in point, tonight. My birthday dinner.”
“Shit, Jonny, it’s your birthday?” Bearsy said. “Happy birthday!”
That had a bunch of the players, spouses, partners, employees—basically anyone in the lounge—singing happy birthday to Jon while Gavin went on a mission to find something that would count as cake.
That ended up being an orange cranberry muffin from this morning. Gavin even found a candle to stick into it, and that prompted another round of singing so Jon could blow it out.
Everything was perfect. Being here with the Lions. Jon rolling his eyes but smiling so brightly as he tucked into the muffin. The kids running around the lounge.
Yeah. I belonged here—but so did Jon.
Coach pulled me away to fill me in onthe upcoming schedule, and when I got back, Jon was talking to a couple of the partners and spouses.
I curled an arm around his waist. “Can I steal the birthday boy away?”
That got me some laughs, but no objections. When we were free from other people, I bumped my hip against Jon’s. “Come home with me?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “Please.”
“Make your birthday even happier?”
“I don’t think you can,” he said. “It’s been pretty fantastic, actually. Got to see my boyfriend score a goal in his first game back in the big league.
If that wasn’t ever a challenge to make it better. “Come on, let’s go.”
We headed to the parking garage, arms around each other’s waists.
CHAPTER 12
JON
I’d expected Drake’s apartment to be one of those small one-bedroom loft things. It wasn’t that at all. He had three bedrooms on the top two floors of a building downtown that had been renovated and converted from offices or storage or something. The exterior walls were brick, the floors old wood, and everything had a clean look to it. Stainless steel appliances. Lots of reds and yellows, with hints of blues. It probably looked spectacular in the sunlight, given the big windows.
I didn’t get much of a tour. Instead, he pressed me up against the island in the kitchen and kissed me insistently. Between sharp nips, he muttered, “Thank you. For coming to my game.”
“Beat watching it on TV. You were only an hour away, and it’s easy enough to get a last-minute ticket, so here I am.”
He pulled back, and fingered the access badge I still had around my neck. “And this?”
“Oh, that? Someone from PR texted me during the game, asked me where I was. They came and gave this tome. Also told me where the spouses and partners usually sit and that I should call them next time I need a ticket.” I tugged him closer for another kiss.
“Wait, they saw you, somehow? Knew you were there?”
Oh. I felt my face heat. “Uh, you haven’t checked social media, have you? Because, yeah. Everyone knows I was there,now.”
There was a cute look of absolute panic on his face, then he whipped out his phone. “Where?”
“Instagram.”
I knew what he’d find, since he’d been tagged in the photo, too. One of the photographers at the game had caught the moment when he’d tossed the puck to me, and there we were, both laughing with the sign I’d made. Those things get uploaded to a site, and the team pretty much has access to all the photos as the game went on, so of course they’d posted a comment:
An Otter and a Dragon??
