Okay, so an outdoor picnic wasn’t going to happen. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t sit on the floor and eat food. If Grady wanted to give Max romance, Max would take it.
He just had to be smart about it.
He drummed his fingers on the dresser. Well… it was worth a shot.
It took him a few minutes to get the stuff he needed out of the garage. Locating a sleeping bag took a bit longer—Max liked the outdoors fine but he wasn’t into camping. The sleeping bag was a relic from childhood sleepovers. But it would be a perfect cushion to go under the picnic blanket.
Finally satisfied, he sneaked back into the kitchen and took the picnic fixings downstairs.
“Hey, Grades? Can you come here for a sec?”
A pause. Max assumed Grady was trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. “Where are you?”
“In the basement!”
Max had left the lower level of his house unfinished. He wasn’t dumb enough to tempt fate by putting valuable things underground a stone’s throw from the world’s highest tide. Down here, he had poured concrete floors and sprayed-on insulation on the walls, for waterproofing.
He also had a couple miniature hockey nets and a handful of orange hockey balls, because what else was an unfinished basement good for?
Grady thumped down the steps. “What’s….” He saw Max standing at the foot of the stairs with a pair of sticks, and paused. “I thought we weren’t training until after tomorrow.”
“You really are getting soft if you think a little ball hockey counts as training.” Max waggled a stick for him to take. “Come on. You got something better to do today?” He’d set the picnic stuff up around the back corner where Grady couldn’t see it yet. It was always better to rile Grady up and then take him down. Preferably onto one knee, but Max would accept both.
Grady’s lips quirked, but then he narrowed his eyes and grabbed the stick. “Do I need to grab my shin guards?”
Max smirked. “I can control myself if you can.”
He should’ve knownthatwas setting them up for failure, but he couldn’t exactly complain when the afternoon ended with Grady’s mouth around Max’s right nipple piercing and his hand down Max’s sweatpants.
So they didn’t get engaged, and theydideach get a few shin bruises, but afterward they lay naked on the picnic blanket and ate maple butter blondies, which was still a pretty great way to spend an afternoon.
Of course, once the afterglow wore off, Max began second-guessing himself. Maybe it had all been wishful thinking on his part. Grady wasn’t the type to beat around the bush. If he wanted Max to marry him, he’d write a list of pros and cons, make a spreadsheet showing why it was a sound financial decision, then present him with a stack of annotated research on how married people lived longer or something.
Actually, huh, maybe that was the tackMaxshould take. But not until after his big day as Moncton’s hometown hero.
THE MORNINGof the Cup parade, Max got up and took Gru for his walk as usual. Grady loved doing it, but Max wasn’t quite ready to give it up or always do it as a couple. He and Gru needed bro time, and Max would be busy all day. Gru deserved an hour of his undivided attention.
Which meant that Max and Gru returned to the house through the back door a muddy mess. Max spent a few minutes trying to get Gru to hold still enough that he could wipe his paws, but eventually the doorbell rang and Gru lost his shit. There was no way Max was wiping his feet now.
Oh well. Given the number of people who’d be in and out of the house today, it was nonsense to think the floor could stay clean for any amount of time. Max let Gru out of the sun porch and followed him to the front door.
Any concern he felt about his relatives judging him evaporated when he took in the scene in the foyer.
Grady had gotten to the door before Max could, and now held Gru back by his collar. Through the open door, Max could see a black SUV. On the front step stood a man in a suit and sunglasses—the Hockey Hall of Fame guy whose job title was basically Stanley Cup Bodyguard—whose expression suggested he’d just learned that Bigfoot was real.
Probably because Grady had already dressed for the parade in his Rock Lobster T-shirt and Max’s Trophy Boyfriend hat.
“Hey, Phil,” Grady was saying. “Come on in. Gru’s home, obviously, which means Max must be—”
Falling harder in love than ever. “Right here, babe.” He stepped up and turned Grady’s hat sideways for a moment so he could get in a good kiss.
When the kiss broke, Grady was looking at Max like he knew exactly the effect he’d had, and was smug about it.
“—about to make an entrance,” Grady finished, looking even more smug now.
Max fixed his hat and wished he weren’t super into that expression, but it was what it was. “Hi, Phil,” he said finally. “Grades, can you give him the five-cent tour while I shower?”
Grady’s smugness increased, but he didn’t actually make a comment about Max needing to jerk off out loud where Phil could hear him. “Sure. Oh, hey, stay on the mat for a second while I mop up after the dog, and then take off your shoes. Please.”
