Page 22 of The Play

Felt more than good. Felt warm—no, it felt hot, burning almost, a flame lodged in the base of his stomach. He’d been fighting the sensation for ages, and it seemed, by now, that it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Obviously, we’ll still see what happens with the season. Don’t worry, you could still be wrong.” Grant’s eyes scrunched up at the corners as he shared a conspiratorial smile with Deacon. God, he was so fucking cute.

Cute and hot and utterly delectable.

Deacon dug his fingers into his thighs. Felt the muscles protest. But the pain was a good reminder that he was supposed to be keeping his hands—and his thoughts—off the gorgeous owner of his team.

A buzz interrupted the silence that had fallen between them.

Grant pulled his phone out of his pocket, stared at it for a second and then groaned a little under his breath.

Deacon very deliberately ignored the pulse of heat that licked up his spine, spreading from that place at the base of his stomach, at the noise.

At what he might do to make Grant groan like that again.

“I gotta go,” Grant said and reached over, casually putting his hand on Deacon’s shoulder to push himself upright.

Deacon froze.

Then Grant froze. Like he’d just realized what he’d done.

“Uh,” Grant stammered.

He was not the stammering kind.

Deacon had suspected he might not be alone in his crush, though of course, that didn’t change a thing, but this kind of confirmed it.

He didn’t know if that made it all better—or far, far worse.

Grant’s fingertips grazed his skin. Each touch felt like a firework going off underneath it.

Deacon took a deep breath and then another.

Grant finally moved, standing up, and removed his hand.

“Uh, sorry,” Grant said.

“Whatever you need,” Deacon said, shrugging, deliberately trying to brush both their reactions off as casual, even though he knew better. “Whether it’s a hand up or to bitch to me about the sales team or to get the locker room in order—you just tell me, okay?”

Grant stared at him. This couldn’t come as a surprise.

The Condors meant everything to Deacon. But it wasn’t just that—and it was like Grant was just now realizing that, too.

That Deacon’s dedication and willingness to do anything wasn’t just because the Condors were his team.

“I’d ask if you really mean that, but it’s clear you do,” Grant said slowly.

“I do,” Deacon said.

I’ll even keep my hands off you, even if it’s killing me, because it’s the right thing for this team and for us.

“Thanks, Deac,” Grant said and after offering him a smile, turned and walked away.

But Deacon didn’t move for a long time. Instead, he stared out at the field, but somehow didn’t see a single thing.

Chapter 4

November

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