Page 3 of Summer Catch

“There’s really not anything I worry about.”

“Yeah, with the guys you know already, but there’s gonna be a lot of new players this year. Ones I don’t know.”

“Sure. I get it.” Kieran shrugged. He’d kind of hoped for more than just please call me if shit goes down but it helped to know it wasn’t going to happen. Easier to put Jonathan into the friendly acquaintance zone instead of the want him even though I shouldn’t have him zone.

He recited his number, which Jonathan typed in, and then Kieran felt his own phone buzz with the message Jonathan sent.

“Thanks for the beer, man,” he said, giving him another one of those smiles. The ones that warmed Kieran up from the inside out.

The ones that made him wish things were different.

“You’re welcome.”

Jonathan pulled out his wallet, but Kieran shook his head. “Beer’s on the house. As a welcome to Charleston.” He grinned. “And hopefully an enticement to come back.”

“Thanks again,” Jonathan said. He slid off the barstool and gave Kieran a little wave as he walked out the door.

Chapter 2

It should have been easy for Jonathan to forget the oddball bar and the bartender with the stormy gray eyes and blond hair in need of a trim, but it actually wasn’t.

After all, he was busy getting ready for the biggest challenge of his career—leading a football team. He’d never even been a head coach in college, only an offensive coordinator, and he knew every eye was on him, waiting for him to fail.

But he wasn’t going to fail, because this challenge was not only exciting, Jon already knew it was going to be one of the most important things he ever did.

Even if the Condors lost more games than they won, he’d still chalk up this year as a success as long as the team did it together and did it clean and fair.

Still, even now, late at night, almost midnight by the watch on Jon’s wrist, the bar popped into his head.

Every other time Kieran and the Pirate’s Booty had entered his consciousness, he’d pushed them both away. Intending to focus on things that were more important.

But not tonight.

Tonight his office just felt a little too cold and a little too empty. Charleston a little too devoid of anyone he could call a friend. From personal experience, his apartment wasn’t any better. Not that Kieran was a friend, but he was something.

Jon dug his phone out of his pocket, pulled up their text conversation—up until this point, consisting of exactly three words: Hi, it’s Jonathan—and typed another message.

You never told me why you named your bar the Pirate’s Booty.

It was kind of a stupid line, and he’d have been ashamed of it except that he couldn’t be, because it wasn’t a line. He wasn’t trying to pick Kieran up, even as the knowledge of him, all the mysteries contained in those gray eyes, poked and prodded at him.

Jon considered himself an open and fair individual. If he had swung that way, he wouldn’t have been ashamed of it. Or maybe all that surprised. One of his old friends from high school was gay. His niece was bi, and her best friend was non-binary. He’d easily accepted all of who they were, without question. Just as he’d do to the guys on his football team.

But it had never really happened for him, that gut punch truth that he wasn’t just like everyone else. Whatever everyone else was, these days.

He tossed his phone on the desk. Trying to re-focus on the data on his laptop screen, and not on the phone and its unanswered text. Maybe it was too late.

No, that’s stupid, he reminded himself, the guy owns a freaking bar. He’s probably part-nocturnal. The way you’re gonna be, soon enough.

Jon wasn’t going to be nocturnal. He just wasn’t going to end up sleeping much, period. But that was okay, because he could sleep when he was dead, and this opportunity wasn’t going to wait for him to get a nice seven and a half hours of shut-eye every night.

His phone dinged. The shit on his laptop screen had no chance against the surprisingly strong pull of desire to look over at what Kieran had sent him back.

If I told you, the message read, then it wouldn’t be as cool.

Jon smiled, even as he started to type a reply.

That’s assuming it was cool in the first place.

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