So, the answer is yes.
Though, right now, the inked fan only wants to know if I’d do the dog again. And that answer is an easy one too.
“Yes. This one’s a ten.”
Nolan pretends to stumble. “Whoa. You’ve never given a ten before.”
He’s right. I give good scores, but never perfect ones.
I shrug. “This hot dog rates it. There’s just one other thing I’d give a ten.”
“What’s that?” he asks.
I step forward, drop a chaste kiss onto his lips, then say, “You.”
The audience coos.
He blushes.
And I swoon like I do every day with my co-host—my love.
Nolan’s my ten, and maybe that’s why our show turned into a bona fide hit. We’ve always had chemistry. Turns out that was more powerful than all the what-ifs in the world.
After the shoot, we head up Central Park West to our place. Nolan never got the sublease in Queens. He moved into Jo’s apartment with me. It made financial sense and all the other kinds of sense too. I want to be with him. He wants to be with me.
So, we’re together.
It was that simple.
It just was.
And I breathe, free and easy, at last.
Other things are simple too. Like friendships—a few nights later, Katie and Harlan fly into town for a sports award gala. Jason is here too, heading to a related event—a pro-athlete player auction.
“Bet you only go for a dollar tomorrow,” Nolan ribs when Jason joins us at Gin Joint.
“More like top dollar,” Jason says. He ruffles Nolan’s hair then brings me in for a big hug. “Thank you for making my brother happy,” he whispers.
I hug him harder. “It goes both ways.”
“I know. He only talks about you all the time. And always has.” He lets go just as Katie and Harlan push through the bar’s front door.
Jason flops onto the couch, tipping his chin toward Nolan. “As for tomorrow night’s auction, I’ve got my best suit. No one can resist a hot athlete in a sharp suit.”
Katie jumps right into the conversational fray. “Suits are catnip. They’re pretty much the reason I stay with this clown,” she says, pointing to her hubs.
Harlan clears his throat then pats Katie’s growing belly. “My suits and my offspring, sweetheart.”
Katie plants a kiss on his cheek. “That too.”
A little later, Jo sails into Gin Joint, looking fabulous, practically glowing. I squeal when I see her, then race over and give her a hug. “Details. Tell me everything about London and that guy,” I say.
She’s kept me updated about her life and love overseas via FaceTime and texts, but I steal her for a few minutes and get the latest.
“So, there you go,” she says when she’s done.
“I can’t wait to find out what happens next,” I say.
With a laugh, she admits, “Me too.”
When we rejoin the group, Nolan’s chatting with Katie and Harlan, so I turn to Jason, eager to hear what my boyfriend’s brother is up to. The auction is a big deal to him, and I have a feeling all his suit-wearing plans are deliberate.
“So is there someone in particular you hope won’t resist you in your suit?”
With a smile, he dips his face. And yes, I think it’s safe to say he’s hoping something —or someone—happens at the auction.
Epilogue
The Lucky Guy
Jason
* * *
That is an excellent question.
With a very complicated answer.
Is there a guy I hope shows up? Yes. But will he bid on me, or expect me to bid on him?
No idea.
I still don’t know what Beck wants from me or what I want from him, even after the night he banged on the door at my place and told me the truth about what happened a year ago.
That night he confessed to a lot of things that surprised the hell out of me.
And, admittedly, excited me too.
But a few weeks later, I’m still trying to figure out the other starting quarterback in San Francisco. Like I said, it’s complicated.
“There might be someone in particular,” I tell Emerson.
She nudges my arm. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
I lean closer, whisper in her ear. “I promise to tell you. . .when I figure it all out.”
“You better figure it out soon. I want to know!”
“Of course you do,” I say, then add with a sigh, “And so do I.”
“Well, I hope that happens sooner rather than later,” she says.
And she’s not the only one who wants to know what’s up in my love life, since when my friend TJ joins us at Gin Joint a little later, he proceeds to grill me about the auction. “So, what’s the verdict? Have you decided?”
If only this were as easy as knowing who to throw to on the football field. “On a suit, yes. On a plan, no.”
TJ chuckles. “So, basically you have no fucking clue what you’ll do if Beck bids on you tomorrow?”
“It’s pretty much going to be a line of scrimmage decision. But hey, feel free to attend tomorrow and find out who bids on who.”