"Just shitting great," I mutter.
"Will you let me finish, please?" She shoots me a glare she really has no right to. If anyone should be glaring, it's me at her. "I saw you guys had the winning bid, so when it came to submit mine, I…oops…" She taps her cheek. "Came in fifty K under."
"What?!" Beau and I exclaim at the same time.
"Oh no…" Sabrina rolls her eyes. "My intel was incorrect. At least, that's what I told Dad who is on a warpath. So, congratulations, you two. You outbid me, and the land will be yours. The seller will contact you sometime later today with the good news."
"I-I can't believe it," Beau stammers, staring at me wide-eyed before leaping to his feet and rushing over to Sabrina to give her a bear hug. She squeals as he lifts her off the ground, and all I hear is him saying "Thank you, thank you, thank you" as Sabrina dangles off him, her expensive red-soled shoes nowhere near the floor.
When Beau finally puts her down, she's smiling and happy and the same little shit I've loved ever since she was an orange blob Mom and Dad brought back from the hospital when I was three.
"I figured it was the least I could do. A small gesture to show you how truly sorry I am for everything."
"It's not a small gesture, sis." I walk over to give her a hug of my own. "It means the world to us both. Thank you."
We got the call from the seller later that afternoon. Beau and I were elated, and we rode that high all afternoon and into the evening, and, if everything goes according to plan, I'll soon be ridinghimwell into tomorrow.
"More wine?" he asks, spotting my empty glass on the coffee table.
We're at his place, a weathered New England farmhouse he plans on fixing up, curled up on the sofa, talking excitedly about our plans for the team and stadium.
"No. I'm good, thanks." I've had two, just enough to, ahem, loosen me up a little without getting too drunk to enjoy what I hope will be a magical experience.
"Cool. What do you feel like doing?"
Eyeing him up and down in his charcoal joggers and a soft rust-colored T-shirt that clings to his chest and arms like it was made for him, I say, "I can think of one thing we can do that we haven't yet."
He grins, his brown eyes sparkling with interest. There's movement in his sweats, too. "Oh yeah. Such as?"
"You fucking me."
His breath catches. "That's, um…"
"Sorry. I meant to say, making love to me."
"Yeah. We could—we could definitely do that."
"Did I catch you off guard?"
"A little, yeah," he admits, sliding his huge palm up and down my leg. "I thought you'd say 'Watch Netflix' to be honest. And…" He clears his throat then wets his lips. "When it comes to sex, I wasn't sure if you'd be interested in, uh, being on thereceivingend of the play."
"I was a great wide receiver. Remember?"
His eyes flick to me, looking at me like he still can’t believe this is real. "Is that what you want?"
I give a decisive nod. "Yep." Then, needing to check, I ask, "Assuming that works for you?"
"It does. Very much."
"In that case…what the shit are we waiting for?"
14
Beau
It was wrong of me to assume Rein would want to top. It's just that in my experience with straight guys, that's usually what they've preferred. I'm vers, but for Rein, I'll happily never bottom again and gladly be the powertop of his dreams.
I grab him by the hand and lead him to my bedroom. Part of me still can't believe this is real, that my decades-long feelings for him are not only reciprocated, but we're back in each other's lives with a proper shot of creating something real and lasting.That'sthe real win here.
