Page 8 of The Long Game

“The thing where people stare at you and flirt with youallthe time,” Barnaby added, in case Jack still missed the point.

“They do not,” Jack said.

“It’s been the elephant in the room for years,” Garrick told Barnaby.

“Did you just compare my face to an elephant?” Jack wondered aloud.

They both ignored him.

“I don’t know how you’ve resisted teasing him about it,” Barnaby said to Garrick. “Especially when someone is hitting onhim. I want to make popcorn. I used to think he didn’t notice, but honestly, he’s far too intelligent to be that clueless.”

“Gee, thanks,” Jack muttered.

“But his ability topretendit isn’t happening…” Barnaby added as if Jack hadn’t said a word.

Garrick grinned. “It’s magical, right?”

Barnaby laughed. “It is. And somehow he manages to extricate himselfandavoid slighting anyone. It’s brilliant.”

“You act like it happens all the time,” Jack said, scowling at his idiot friends.

“What’s amazing is that you believe it doesn’t,” Garrick said.

“Itdoesn’t,” Jack insisted.

The server chose that moment to deliver their meals, her breasts pointed directly into Jack’s face—and not just when she was serving him. It was a miracle she didn’t put her back out reaching for Garrick’s placemat with one arm while her entire torso was twisted toward Jack.

Barnaby murmured a polite “thank you” when his meal was placed in front of him, his rapidly blinking eyes never leaving Jack and his eyebrows arched to his hairline. The asshole.

Garrick buried his face in his hands. Jack couldn’t tell if he was laughing or coughing, but there was a lot of wheezing issuing from between his fingers.

Jack smiled and thanked the waitress, not wanting her to think Garrick’s ridiculous behavior had anything to do with her. As soon as she turned away, he glared across the table.

“Do you need a doctor?” he asked when he noted the purplish shade of Garrick’s face. “Because Savannah and Rhian are going to be mighty pissed with me if I kill their baby-daddy just days before the birth.”

The reminder of impending fatherhood sobered Garrick somewhat. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, wiping his eyes. “And don’t you worry. I’ll be there when your godchild is born.”

Jack shook his head. “Are you sure I’m the one who—”

“Jack.” Garrick’s voice was sharp. “I’m not having this conversation again. You were the one who sent Savannah back to me. The one who helped me get to Rhian at the airport. The one who made my move to Boston possible during the construction at the arena. There literally wouldbeno baby without you.”

Jack looked down at his beer and shrugged. He didn’t think he deserved that much credit. For one thing, the reason he’d been able to help with the construction was because Garrick had taken a huge risk and hired Jack in the first place, setting him on the path from bartender to Operations Director for Moncton Arena.

“And,” Garrick continued doggedly, “we all love you.”

Jack smiled awkwardly. He never knew what to do when people said stuff like that. How could something make him both feel happyandwant to crawl under the table?

Barnaby bumped his shoulder supportively.

Truly, he did not deserve these friends.

“Yeah, okay. Thanks,” Jack said to Garrick.

Garrick nodded once, then took a huge bite of his burger.

Digging into their dinner meant a reprieve from their teasingandtheir kindness, thank god. Quigley’s wasn’t the fanciest meal in town, but the atmosphere was relaxed, the beer selection excellent, and the food better than average.

Also, no one cared if Garrick laughed himself sick in the corner.

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