He’d done something similar with the women he dated but he’d never been on this side of it. It was nice.Comforting. He could see why they’d liked it.
Graham tugged the jacket a little tighter around himself and smiled at Thad.
Around them, the usual sounds of city traffic on the cross street and occasional car going by faded into the distance and, for a moment, they stood there on the sidewalk, looking at each other under the glow of the streetlight.
It was almost … romantic.
A moment later, reality intruded when Graham’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to see the ride was nearly here.
He told Thad that as he reluctantly handed him the coat back. Thad had shrugged it back on as the vehicle rounded the corner a moment later.
They got in and made small talk with the driver for a few minutes.
He was an older guy, with a Boston accent even thicker than Connor’s. The vehicle was a smallish crossover and, even though they sat on opposite sides of the back seat, their knees bumped occasionally.
Graham kept trying to shift away, but it was impossible in the relatively narrow space.
“So, you’re with the Harriers, right?” the driver asked, meeting Graham’s gaze in the rearview mirror.
“Uhh, yes,” Graham said. “I play for the team and Thad here is with the social media department.”
Graham gave up on the idea of shifting away, and Thad did too, allowing the sides of their thighs to press together instead. Graham could feel the heat of Thad’s leg against his own, especially through the thin fabric of his trousers.
“Very cool,” the guy said. “I was never good enough to go pro but that would be fuckin’awesometo do support stuff.”
“Yeah, I feel lucky they hired me.” Thad shifted, brushing the side of his hand against Graham’s on the seat between them.
Graham shivered at the contact.
“So, what are you guys up to tonight? Must be somethin’ fun.”
“Well, we hung out at O’Neill’s for a while with the team,” Graham said.
The guy met his gaze in the mirror. “Yeah, I’ve heard it’s the team’s postgame hangout spot. I’ve picked guys up there before for rides, but I wasn’t sure if it was true or rumors.”
“It’s true,” Graham admitted with a smile. “Liam O’Neill runs a nice, low-key place.”
Despite Liam’s age, Graham had seen the guyphysicallythrow out people who started bugging players for autographs. It didn’t happen often, but Liam’s policy had always been that fans could chat or play pool with players if they were polite, but any weird, intrusive behavior was off-limits.
Graham appreciated it.Especiallywhen he heard stuff from guys on other teams of what it was like in other cities. The scrutiny Jesse had been under in Toronto when he played for the Fisher Cats sounded like a nightmare to Graham.
In the darkness of the back seat, Thad carefully took Graham’s hand, threading their fingers together and squeezing.
Graham smiled, still looking straight forward at the driver’s reflection in the mirror.
“So that’s it?” the man asked, sounding disappointed, like he’d imagined hockey players lived much wilder lives. “You guys are headed home then?”
Graham glanced over at Thad, not quite sure how to play this.
“Well,” Thad said with a shrug. “It’s always nice to have a few buddies over. Drinks, movies or gaming, that sort of thing.”
Huh. That was a skillful way to imply several of their friends would be joining them at Graham’s condo withoutsayingthat’s what they were planning to do. Smart.
“Sometimes we watch the west coast games,” Graham offered. “Scope out the competition.”
“Nice, nice. Must be great to hang out with the team too, Thad. That’s a wicked perk.”
“Yeah, they’re great guys.” Thad squeezed Graham’s hand again. “Never make a bet with them though. I learned the hard way. Those are way deeper pockets than I’ve got.”
