Page 43 of Playing His Game

But he couldn’t exactly text Xenia back and say,Actually I’m over clubbing, but do you want to go to the farmers’ market with me this Saturday?

Mel, maybe. But not Xenia.

Maybe Mads would want to do paint night again when the Canyons were out of town. Last time had been fun. Mads painted, Mo drank hurricanes, and they gossiped to rival the talk Mo had heard behind the scenes at drag shows.

After Mo left Adam’s that morning, he didn’t have anything to distract himself from the upcoming horror or anyone to complain to. He spent most of the twenty-four hours in his garage, trying not to think about anything other than the machine in front of him.

The next day, he arrived early at Adam’s, which was mostly on purpose. They’d agreed that it would be good to meet up early to continue to talk strategy, but when Mo pulled up the drive and knocked on the door, he was a few hours ahead of liftoff. To his credit, Adam didn’t look surprised. He just rolled his eyes, stepped to the right, and motioned for Mo to enter.

“Are we going to need a full three hours to get ready for dinner, or were you just hoping for more of my company?”

Mo ignored this patently stupid—and clearly sarcastic—question and demanded that Adam lead him to his wardrobe.

Adam lifted an eyebrow, but again, he didn’t argue. Maybe Mo looked especially manic today.

“Were you hoping to borrow something?” he snarked. “Because I’ve got to warn you, I don’t think any of my clothes will fit.”

“Hardy har, like you can’t tell I’m already dressed to go.” Mo wore a pair of butt-hugging trousers and a pink floral top that was far from flamboyant with the return in popularity of 70s patterns. The shirt wasn’t a favorite, but at least it let him walk the line between his own style and the more socially acceptableen voguehis parents expected. “Now, show me your outfit.”

Once again, Adam didn’t protest. Instead, he led Mo to his bedroom and motioned to the bed, where he’d laid out his outfit for the evening.

It wasn’t a horrible choice: a pair of dark trousers and a deep brown button-up. Mo didn’t doubt that Adam would look delicious. The man knew how to dress. He might not be very adventurous, but he knew how to put together a non-athleisure outfit that flattered, which was more than Mo could say for most of the guys he’d ever played hockey with.

However, the color of the shirt would clash against Mo’s choice.

“No.”

“No?”

“No. We’ll clash. We can’t show up looking like we’re not together. We need to coordinate.” Without waiting for an invitation, Mo started rifling through the closet. “What are the topics to avoid?”

“Huh?”

If Adam didn’t stop being so dense, Mo might hurt something. “The topics of conversation to avoid. That we talked about yesterday.”

“Right. What about them?” Adam sounded distracted, which was ridiculous. Mo was the one appraising clothes and directing the conversation.

“Prove you remember them.”

“Am I beingquizzedright now?”

Weren’t hockey players supposed to be better at following a coach’s directions? “Yes. I refuse to sit through an awkward meal just because you’re too proud to remember a list of banned topics.” He spun around with two hangers and jabbed one in Adam’s direction. “Now start listing.”

Adam rolled his eyes and tossed the shirt on the bed as though he had no regard for wrinkles. He’d regret that later when Mo made him iron it. “Do not talk about politics. Big shock there. I’m not a total idiot.”

Then, before Mo could refute that statement, he pulled his shirt off.

Startled, Mo forgot what he was going to say.

Which was so dumb—what had he expected? Adam stripped naked in front of people all the time. Taking off his shirt in the privacy of his own home wasn’t going to bother him. But Mo’s ears had gone hot and he felt the bizarre urge to avert his eyes.

Fortunately, Adam turned around to pick the shirt up, giving Mo a moment to collect himself. And also to stare at the muscle definition in Adam’s back. He was suddenly reminded, once again, that circumstances made him involuntarily celibate.

Mo hadn’t gotten off with another man in… longer than he wanted to think about right now.

Also that he might be standing too close to Adam if he could feel his body heat. He took a careful step back. “Great—you got the most obvious one. Keep going.”

“Global warming.” Adam shrugged into the shirt and started doing up the buttons. “Which is ridiculous. I mean, they like winter sports. Gonna be hard to play those when there’s no winter.”