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Emily
“Do you think this is too much?” Bash straightened the jersey and scowled at his reflection. “What if he doesn’t like it?”
“Mac never has anyone showing up for him.”
“He has a million fans—”
“Not the same and you know it.”
Bash grumbled, but stopped fussing with his jersey.
I smoothed his hair back and kissed his cheek. “You look good in his number, you know.”
Bash paused in front of the mirror, his cheeks turning red. He wasn’t as good at hiding his feelings as he thought he was. Or maybe he just wasn’t trying as hard anymore.
“Where’s Mac? Is he riding to the stadium with us?”
I shook my head and finished pulling my hair into a high ponytail. “No. I told him to get there before us.”
It was the first game since he moved in, and I couldn’t wait to surprise him.
The last few days had been a whirlwind of boxes and sweat—from moving and from the sheer decadence of waking up in between the two men I loved.
Life was good.
And Mac would appreciate this show of public support. We hadn’t discussed how—if at all—we’d announce our relationship, but this was innocent enough. Everyone knew we were friends and assumed Bash and I were together. Wearing our favorite Evergreen’s jersey was hardly a scandal.
“Let’s go.” I stretched up on my toes and brushed my lips across Bash’s.
He pressed his hand to my lower back, crushing our bodies together. His breath was hot on my neck as he dragged his lips along my sensitive skin. It took every morsel of my willpower to push him away.
“If we’re late to the game—”
Bash smirked, his nostrils flared as he caught his breath. “I know. I know. You just look so damn good in that jersey.”
“Really?” I twirled in front of the mirror. “Think Mac will like it?”
Bash smacked my ass. “He’ll love it.”
“Then let’s go. I can’t wait to show us off.”
In all of my past relationships, there were red flags at this point. Like enough red flags, I could have filled the Evergreens’ stadium to the rafters.
I didn’t have the best track record with men. I seemed to be the jackass whisperer.
But there I was. Changing my story. Two men were enraptured with me and with each other. It seemed insane to even ask for, but now that we were in the midst of it, it was right. It was exactly where the three of us were supposed to be.
“We need to figure out how we’re going to present ourselves to the world,” I said, grabbing a nacho from the tray on Bash’s lap.
“Hmm?”
Bash was sitting on the edge of his seat, watching the puck fly around the ice. He didn’t answer me, but I didn’t push it. I hadn’t seen him so invested during a game. I actually wasn’t sure I had seen him at any game before. He was usually behind the scenes and never out in the crowd.
It was cute how interested he was now that he and Mac were officially dating each other. That was the thing with Bash. He never did anything by halves. If he was in, he was all in.
I remembered after he announced he was going to culinary school. His entire life became cooking. When Rob wanted to party, Bash stayed home and learned new techniques. Rob would have to drag him out of the house to experience more than just the kitchen. Every job he had in high school was oriented around cooking and learning the business.
When he locked in on something, he didn’t lose sight of his goal.
