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I watch as he unzips the separate section of his suitcase. What has to be hundreds of ducks of all shapes and sizes start falling out.”
“How many did you bring?”
“It wasn’t me. This is all Carter, he sent them.” He laughs, and I purse my lips and grab my bag from the floor.
“I know I promised to help hide them, but…”
“But what?”
“I may have been collecting them.”
“What do you mean, collecting? How many do you have?”
I open my case and move a few shirts so that he can see. At the bottom of my bag are the eighty or so ducks I’ve found during the tour. I stopped counting at fifty.
“Rehiding those is all on you,” he says, shaking his head.
“I’m not hiding them again. They’re mine.”
“You want them?”
“Hell yes, I want them.”
He wraps his arms around my waist and kisses me. And now my shirt is spotted with wet drops.
“Now I have to find another shirt,” I complain, nudging him away and stripping it off.
“Or you could hang it over the chair and see if you can make me come before it’s dry?” he drops the towel, and his perfect hard cock is waiting.
“I do like a challenge,” I say, throwing the shirt over a chair and dropping to my knees.
Chapter twenty-seven
Duckie
When they offered mea place on the team, at first I thought it was going to be impossible to choose what to do. But when I sat down and thought about it, there really was only one choice. I loved writing for hockey. It’s my all-time favorite sport to watch, but I’m a part of the team here, a part of Banana Ball, and it’s more than I could have ever hoped it would be.
Telling Yarro I was leaving him for the game he banished me to was… interesting. He’d been following the tour the whole time and had seen the progression in my involvement from backup performer with the other writers to stand-in player. The part of the conversation I was most nervous about was asking to pick my replacement. He has no reason to do what I want, but I’m hoping he will.
“You want what?” Yarro asks, leaning forward a little so that his face fills up more of the laptop screen. I thought a phone call just wouldn’t be enough for this one.
“The two new teams are joining the world tour next year. Thirty-five cities from February to October. You’ll need someoneto cover it. Someone who knows the sport and has connections established with the players. Ian is that guy. You’ve seen his work. He’s good and you know it.”
His eyes narrow. “I’m perfectly capable of finding my own staff.”
“You are, and you do a great job at it. You hired me and look how well that worked out.”
He rests back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m not sure that this outcome could deem that hire a success.”
“Sure it can. And you can make another great choice now and offer Ian my old job.”
“And how do you know he even wants to work here?”
“BecauseUnlacedis the best place to work, and you’re the best boss any sportswriter could ever want. His last boss was a dick. I promise, he wants this. He already gave notice atTotal Sportsand can start as soon as this tour closes. Perfect timing, cause that’s when my final day will be, too.”
He shakes his head. He’s going to say no. I’ve gotten everything out of this tour, my dream laid out right at my feet, I know more about myself than I ever have and the guy that showed me is the most amazing human I’ve ever met. But Ian deserves a happy ending in this, too. Maybe one of the other guys has had luck scoping out work for him. I asked all of them to see what they could do. They all like Ian, so it wasn’t a hard sell. Not like this.
“Three-month trial,” Yarro says, and it’s like a firework has gone off in my chest.
