Page 37 of Summer Catch

“Sure, alright.”

He’d just watched Kieran wander in the direction of the bar when Grant walked up.

“Jonathan,” the owner of the Condors said, reaching out and shaking his hand. “Good to see you here.”

It had been a long season, and somehow, in the middle of it, the owner had gone from Mr. Green to Mr. G to Grant. Now, Jon counted him as a friend.

“Couldn’t have missed it.”

“I’m sorry—did I miss something? You were just standing there, uh . . .holding hands with the bartender from the Pirate’s Booty.”

Jon grinned. “You didn’t miss a thing.”

“So when you told me you could date someone and nobody would know . . .that was from personal experience.” Grant looked like he was trying to process this news in real time, and despite his very big brain, he wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

“Yep. For about a year now.”

“The whole season?” Grant’s jaw dropped.

“Yep,” Jon repeated, nodding. “I’m assuming you don’t mind.”

“How could I?” Grant retorted wryly. “When the entire world has spent the last few months completely obsessed over my relationship?”

Jon laughed. “I appreciate you taking all that heat, so the rest of us could continue to do whatever we wanted, under the radar.”

“You’re welcome,” Grant said. “But really. I am happy for you two. He seems like a good guy.”

“He’s the best,” Jon said simply.

“Carter says he pours the best Mermaid’s Asshole, but I guess we’ll take that endorsement with a grain of salt.”

“If you’ve never had a Mermaid’s Asshole, then you’re missing out,” Jon teased.

Grant looked skeptical.

“Mr. G! And Coach!”

Speak of the devil, there was Carter Maxwell in the flesh, walking over, hair even blonder in the bright sunshine and a wide smile on his face.

“Carter,” Grant said, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

“Good to see you,” Jon said, nodding at his star wide receiver.

“Apparently I’ve been missing out,” Grant said.

“On?” Carter sounded really curious now. Which was a dangerous state, but they’d managed to navigate a whole season without Carter blowing up—in fact Carter seemed like he was happier than ever, with the team and with his own boyfriend.

“I told him he needed to try a Mermaid’s Asshole,” Jon explained.

“Well, if Kieran doesn’t tell you to drink one, then you can’t,” Carter said very seriously, very earnestly. “I tried to order one once without his approval, and well, I regretted that. A lot.”

“Noted,” Grant said. But he turned to Jon then, and he already guessed what the owner was going to ask.

“So what do you drink?” Grant asked. “Since you’re dating the bartender with the superpower, I’m sure it’s something good.”

“What, wait,” Carter exclaimed. “You . . .and Kieran?”

“Oh yeah.” Jon tried really hard not to laugh at Carter’s outraged expression. The man thought he knew everything, but that wasn’t even remotely true. “Actually, apparently his superpower doesn’t work on me.”

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