Page 2 of Summer Catch

“Guilty as charged. Jonathan Kelley.” He extended a hand and they shook, Jonathan looking almost chagrined that Kieran had recognized him. “Guess I won’t be living under the radar much longer.”

“Kieran McDonald. I own this bar. And no, but Charleston’s a pretty chill town. We’re probably not going to hound you to death.”

“Probably,” he said with a quirk of his lips.

Kieran shrugged. “We do love our football here. And, before the last couple of years, our Condors.”

“Gonna be some big changes.” Jonathan nodded, like he knew there would be. Like he was going to make sure of it.

But Grant Green, the new Condors owner, had already been around town, making a lot of promises after buying the team, the newest change which was hiring the guy in front of him, so it wasn’t going to be entirely up to Jonathan here—but changing the culture was going to be a big part of his new job.

“It’s time,” Kieran agreed. He leaned forward on the bar. “So, what dragged you in here? I’d have thought you’d be doing something a lot more important than hanging out at the Pirate’s Booty.” It was still early, and the bar was pretty empty, not surprisingly considering it wasn’t quite five yet on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Saw the name, had to check it out—plus I heard some of my guys talking about it, when I met with them. You might know them? Deacon Harris? Jem Knight? Beckett West?”

Kieran nodded. “Yep, I definitely do. Good guys.” He said it because that hadn’t been universally true for all the players on the Condors. But he’d vouch for Deacon, Jem, and Beck all day long. Even Carter wasn’t ridiculous.

“They were saying this was the place to come, and that a lot of the team hangs out here. That you’re the owner.”

Kieran nodded.

“They ever get into any trouble?” Jonathan asked.

Kieran considered the question. He had a feeling he knew why Jonathan was asking.

“Your diva wide receiver, Carter Maxwell? He makes his presence known, and does his best to pick up everyone in my bar, but other than that, no. They’re good guys, like I said.”

“That’s the vibe I got from them, too,” Jonathan agreed. He took a long sip of his beer. “So you gotta tell me, how’d you come up with this whole . . .” He waved around Kieran’s bar. The fake pirate propped up in the corner with the semi-molting stuffed parrot on his shoulder. The palm trees. The climbing hibiscus vines up all the exposed brick walls, giving the bar a vaguely tropical vibe.

“The theme?” Kieran questioned.

Jonathan laughed. “Yeah. It’s a lot. It’s fun, though.”

“We also host theme nights. Surprisingly our most popular is Disco Night.”

“Really? That’s cool.”

Kieran grinned back. He didn’t know why he got such a good vibe off this guy but he did. It felt a bit like his drink superpower, but it was more than that. Stronger. Like an arrow that kept pointing unerringly in Jonathan’s direction.

He didn’t know if the guy was gay. Didn’t know if he even liked men. And God knew, the worst person for the arrow to be pointing to would be an NFL coach.

And yet, it kept pointing, anyway.

Well, it could point all it wanted, because Kieran wasn’t going to do anything about it.

“You should join us,” Kieran said. “You haven’t really experienced the Pirate’s Booty at its best unless you see it with some neon lights flashing and the Bee Gees playing.”

“Gonna be a busy year,” Jonathan said, wincing as he offered his excuse.

“I bet.” Kieran told himself he wasn’t disappointed—but he was, kinda.

Like something had ended before it had even begun.

“Though . . .” Jonathan paused and pulled his phone out of his pocket and set it on the bar. “If you’d be willing, I’d love to exchange numbers.”

It was the last thing Kieran had expected him to say. To make an overture this quickly? Kieran knew he wasn’t painful to look at. Maybe he had his dry spell, but it was out of choice, not because of a lack of offers. But he certainly hadn’t expected this.

“Not for . . .” Jonathan laughed nervously. “Not like that. Not that you’re not . . .you know. But I’m not into guys like that. Just because my players come here, and if anything happens, I’d rather be your first call, not the cops.”

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