Risking the Shot (Stick Side #4) - Amy Aislin Page 0,29

this attraction could lead.

“I’m away for the next week,” Tay said. “So next weekend?”

“Sounds good.”

A low beep sounded and Tay pulled his phone out of his pocket. “That’s the Uber I ordered while you were putting Andy to bed. It’s just a minute away.” Threading their fingers together, Tay led the way to the foyer. “Walk me out?”

“Are you sure you can’t stay for a bit?” Dakota leaned against the wall while Tay put on his winter outerwear. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you all night.”

“I wish I could, but I really want to get this assignment done so I don’t have to worry about it while I’m traveling.”

He was doing the mature thing. Well, bully for him.

“Besides,” Tay said, picking up the backpack he’d left on the floor by the door and the plastic container of leftovers Dakota had left next to it. “I saw your laptop bag in the living room. Why do I have the feeling you’ve got work to do?”

Dakota sighed. “I do. Doesn’t mean I don’t wish you could stay for another hour.”

Tay kissed him, lips soft. Dakota memorized the feel and taste of him, sneaking his arms under Tay’s coat to find his waist.

Headlights filtering in through the living room window was followed by a honk that had them separating. Tay settled his backpack on his shoulders and reached for the door handle. “Can I call you while I’m away?”

“You better.”

“Tell Andy thanks for dinner,” Tay said, stepping outside onto the front stoop.

Dakota braced himself against the cold and stood in the doorway. “You know I made it, right?”

Tay opened the car door and threw him a grin over his shoulder. “Says you.”

Why that response made Dakota want to kiss him silly was anybody’s guess.

MARCH

By the time Tay’s team got to their third and final West Coast game in less than a week, the energy in the locker room in Anaheim was a combination of the kind of batshit crazy led by the overtired and the more mellow mood led by those who just wanted to get this game over with and go home. Currently, Xappa was giving everyone love taps on the ass with a wet, rolled-up towel while everyone else suited up for tonight’s game.

Tay ignored the cursing and Xappa’s guffaws and sat on the bench in front of his locker in full gear, earbuds in and listening to Tenor Jones while doodling on a design app on his iPad. Since none of his teammates knew about his art—not even Stanton—when they were goofing off was often the best time to sneak in some drawing on the DL, tablet tucked close to his chest.

Problem was, it’d been weeks since he’d spent any time with Rhys and Brendan—the original characters he’d created for his comic—and he was struggling with getting the shape of Rhys’s face right. Needless to say, his attempt at a new panel was going the way of their last game—into the shitter. It was a panel he’d been excited to draw too, one where oblivious Bren began to realize that Rhys—his brother’s best friend—might have feelings for him.

He was embarrassingly rusty. Didn’t help that he was tired enough to take a nap sitting up.

The once-a-season, week-long California road trip was never just about the games. There were press appearances, photoshoots, volunteer gigs. In Tay’s case, meetings with a potential new sponsor, AITech, a start-up company that was about to launch an AI-powered virtual assistant for money management. Why they wanted him to be the face of their Instagram campaign, Tay didn’t fully understand. All he did on Instagram was post pictures of himself with his teammates or his parents. A couple of years ago, he’d created a separate account under a different name—@TayDraws3—to post his comic, thinking he’d upload a chapter a week. Now that account sat there unused with nary a single post and only a couple dozen followers since he didn’t have the guts to share his work. He should just delete the damn thing; for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to.

“Now let’s talk about our second item of business,” his agent had said two days ago in LA after their meeting with AITech. Mason had flown in from New York for the meeting, and he sat back in his chair on the rooftop restaurant of a boutique hotel that overlooked the city. The view was great, the food delicious, the ambiance California chill, the weather perfect. It wasn’t winter in Toronto, that was for