Page 2 of The Long Game

Then Grady peeled open his coat and a lump of something cold and hard lodged in Jack’s chest.

Shit.

Grady hovered by his stool, his head cocked. “You okay, Jack?”

Because, of course, while Grady appearedeasygoing, he was actually one of the most observant people Jack had ever met. His warm, dark brown eyes never missed anything that happened in the bar while he was there.

And now Jack knew why.

He tore his gaze from Grady’s broad chest and said, “Yeah, sure. Fine.” He gestured at Grady. “I was just noticing your, ah, shirt,” he said.

Grady glanced down at the rainbow-themed RCMP emblazoned across his chest. “Oh, yeah. I came here from the gym at work and this was all I had in my locker.”

Jack swallowed. “You’re a cop?”

Grady’s eyes narrowed. “I am. Is that a problem?”

Jack couldn’t figure out how it hadn’t come up before now. He felt betrayed. Like the universe was determined to prove to him that life wasn’t fair.

Message received.

“No, not a problem for me.”

Grady didn’t look convinced. “And the rainbow?”

Now he was just pissing Jack off. “No, that isnota problem, fuck you very much for asking.”

A hint of a smile crossed Grady’s face as he surveyed the bar. “Is any of it going to be a problem for anyone else?”

It wasn’t a secret the Brunswicker Ale House was owned by notorious scumbag Robert Kramer, but that didn’t prevent it from being a popular hangout for local politicians and law enforcement, so everything that happened in and around the pub was strictly aboveboard. Otherwise, there was no way in hell Jack would work there.

“No, you’re good,” he said, placing Grady’s beer in front of him.

Grady nodded his thanks and settled onto his stool.

Jack almost sighed in relief when someone caught his eye and held up their empty glass. He tipped his chin at Grady and moved to the other customer, aware of Grady’s stare, like an itch between his shoulder blades, the whole way.

Thank god it was a busy Friday night. Jack didn’t have time to talk to Grady except when he took his dinner order and later delivered it. Grady, as always, watched the game with one eye but had the other on the crowd. Jack felt dumb for not figuring out earlier why Grady was so habitually vigilant.

Jack half expected to find Grady’s spot empty or taken over by one of the countless drunk university students as the night wore on, but he never budged, his ass planted on his stool far later than normal. And worse, instead of watching the late game after the Leafs had thoroughly disgraced themselves—a high point in this interminable night—Grady’s attention was now split between the crowd andJack. Every time Jack snuck a glance down the bar he was met with Grady’s calm, steady gaze.

At midnight, Grady switched from beer to Diet Coke. By one-thirty, the kids from the university were filtering out the door and Grady wasstillat the bar.

“Late night for you,” Jack observed as he used the soda gun to top up Grady’s glass.

Grady pitched his voice so the people around him wouldn’t hear. “You want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Grady arched one eyebrow, silently callingbullshit.

Jack sighed. “I’m not the kind of person someone like you should be hanging around.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Look me up,” Jack said.

Grady’s face screwed up in confusion. “What?”

---