Jonah laughs. “Depends what you want, I guess. I’ll tell you this, though—I tried several different kinds of Blizzards at Dairy Queen as a kid, and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups was my favorite flavor. So around twenty years ago, I started only eating the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups Blizzards because they’re the best. That’s Rey for me. I don’t want any of that cotton candy or pumpkin pie bullshit when I could have a Reese’s. Know what I mean?”
His analogy is…good. It actually leaves me speechless for a couple seconds.
“Maybe someday I’ll meet my Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups Blizzard,” I say, shrugging.
“I hope you do. And in the meantime, I’m sure you’re enjoying Vegas?”
“Yeah, it’s great. I mean, the summers are shit, but the nightlife is unbeatable.”
Jonah finishes his beer and signals the bartender for another round.
“How’s the team gelling?” he asks. “You guys looked good tonight. In sync.”
“Overall, I think we’re playing together pretty well. Maverick’s a good captain. He used to be my wingman but now he’s got a serious girlfriend.”
“Alexei doesn’t mind playing on the second line?”
I shake my head. “He’s solid as hell, and he’s really happy. His wife is taking a break from work since she’s further along in her pregnancy now, and I guarantee you Alexei will be the first man off the bus tomorrow so he can get home to them.”
Jonah smiles. “It makes me really happy to hear that. He deserves it. I think he and Anton liked playing for the same team, but it’s probably better for them not to. Anton casts a big shadow.”
“Yeah, I agree.”
Alexei’s twin brother, Anton Petrov, is the team captain of the Chicago Blaze. Alexei had a short stint with the Blaze, but the brothers didn’t play together for long before the Saints picked up Alexei.
“How’s your mom?” Jonah asks.
“She’s good.”
“She still in Kansas?”
“Yep. She’ll never move away now that she has a grandchild.”
“Does she visit you in Vegas at all?” Jonah asks.
I laugh. “Feels like all the time, but it’s probably every other month or so. She stays for a week or two and I hardly see her because she loves to play the slots.”
“She gets to see you play, though, so that’s nice.”
“Oh yeah. My mom loves coming to my games. She actually had a few Las Vegas Saints Mom shirts made.”
Jonah grins. “And does she wear them to your games?”
“You bet your ass she does. Loud and proud. The back of every shirt says Mama Morgan, because that’s what all my high school teammates called her.”
“How does she feel about you not wanting to settle down?”
“She gets it. My dad left when I was six, and she swore she’d never get married again. All she cares about is that my sister and I are happy.”
“She sounds like a good mom.”
“She’s the best.”
He angles his beer bottle in my direction. “To Mama Morgan.”
I clink the neck of my bottle against his. “To Mama Morgan.”
The morning after I have drinks with Jonah, I’m dragging ass on the flight home. I never sleep as well in hotels as I do in my own bed. Last night I tossed and turned for at least an hour while trying to figure out how I’m going to get Indie to like me.
Or at least not hate me. That would be a good start.
I have no idea what happened to her grandma’s ring, but I could take some initiative and ask the Vegas Sports Collectors guy about it. If he has it, I could just offer to buy it, no questions asked.
The only explanation I can come up with is that he saw the ring in the baseball case and took it. He’d be admitting that he stole it if he sells it to me, though. He may have already turned around and sold it to someone else.
And that’s why I tossed and turned all night—this isn’t going to be easy.
For all I know, she might not even be single. If she’s not, I’ve definitely got my work cut out for me, but six months is a lot of time to convince her to dump whoever she’s with for a romp with Mr. Right Now.
“Hey, you want to go somewhere and eat?” Pax asks me on the bus ride from the airport back to the Las Vegas Saints arena.
“I would, but I’m beat. I’m going home to sleep. You want to meet up later for dinner?”
“I can’t. I’m doing a trivia night thing with the guys from my gym.”
“Trivia?”
He shrugs. “I’m a closet nerd. I watch tons of Jeopardy.”
“Huh.”
“You can be on our team if you want to. It’s at a sports bar and they’ve got killer wings.”
“Let me think about it. I’ll text you later though and let you know. Thanks for the invite,” I tell him as the bus pulls into the arena parking lot.