Page 63 of Off the Post

And that’s not something I want to happen.

31

Ali

I find Soren in the clubhouse sitting at a high table, his back to me, with Tanner, Oliver, Wyatt Pendergast and his partner, Dante, and one of the rookies, Shaw Benning. Due to the late hour, the bar is cleared out of any other golfers from the event, and the kids and their parents went home long ago. From the sounds coming from the table, I would venture a guess that those left have imbibed quite a bit.

Tanner is most certainly inebriated. On a normal day, he’s loud and boisterous.

Drunk Tanner? He could compete with a jumbo jet in volume and noise levels.

As I approach, I scan the empty and half-empty pints and shot glasses and notice Soren has what looks like to be an iced tea. Wise choice.

I hook my arms over both Tanner’s and Wyatt’s shoulders and congenially lean in toward the table, searching each of their faces.

“Who’d like me to call an Uber?”

A grinning Dante holds up a set of keys and jingles them in the air. “I’m sober and will be this lightweight’s DD.” He tips his head toward Wyatt, who grins a half-lidded, dopey smile at his boyfriend. It thrills me to know these two got together after they met at the calendar shoot.

When my gaze lands on Shaw, he raises a shoulder and gives me a sheepish look. “I’ve already called Emery to come pick me up. You need a lift, Oli?”

Oliver waves a hand in the air. “I’m good. I’ve got my handy-dandy breathalyzer keychain to tell me when I’m okay to drive.” He waggles a small plastic kit that dangles from a keyring. Then he attaches a clear tube to the square box before demonstrating its use. “You blow until it beeps, and if you’re over the 0.08 percent BAC, you just drink some water, wait, and try it again in ten minutes. Easy-peasy.”

Tanner lets out a loud guffaw, hard enough that spittle lands on the table. His next words slur from his obvious intoxication. “Dude, you said blow!”

Laughter erupts around the table, along with a chorus of groans.

“Oh Jesus, Rossy. You’re well and truly fucked up, my man. You’re gonna have one helluva hangover tomorrow.” Wyatt pats my brother sympathetically on his shoulder and stands up. Dante slides his hand in Wyatt’s to steady him on his feet. “Good luck to whoever has to get him home. We’re outta here. See ya later.”

Wyatt and Dante wave their goodbyes to the table and Wyatt tips forward, awkwardly looping an arm around my neck and stumbling into me as he does.

“You did a great job with this, Ali.” He places a sweet but sloppy kiss on my cheek. “Thanks for the fun day and making it so inclusive.”

My eyes connect with Soren’s over Wyatt’s shoulder, and the proprietary heat I see blazing in his gaze sends the ripple of a thrill down my spine.

There’s no reason for Soren to be jealous of Wyatt. We all know he’s very much on a different team. But Wyatt’s comment, his gratitude, and his boyfriend currently trying to hold him upright make my heart happy. He’s the only gay teammate on the Vikings, but he feels accepted by everyone and is unapologetic about his sexuality. I’m glad to see that the team takes the organization’s DEI policies to heart and Wyatt is free from the type of harassment and homophobic remarks that are too often prevalent in professional men’s sports.

“Thanks, Wyatt. It was great to have you both here today,” I say as they head toward the exits. I don’t see Tanner rise from his barstool, and a yelp escapes from me when he nearly topples into me. Soren’s fast reflexes catch him before he falls over and takes me down with him.

I shake my head, placing a steadying hand on his back. “And you, my dear brother, have some sobering up to do. Let’s get you some water and coffee, and I’ll schedule an Uber.”

If it weren’t for the clean-up I must do and the supplies I’m transporting, he could come home with me. However, my car is already packed to the brim with the event decorations and remaining party favors.

Tanner waves a hand in the air and then cups my cheeks in his palms. When he speaks—louder than necessary—his hot whiskey breath fans across my face. “I’m good, Ali-gator. And you done good today, too. So proud.”

He closes his eyes and his head flops forward, his forehead hitting my shoulder, his thick hair tickling my neck. My brother is on the verge of passing out any minute now, and I need to get him home.

“Aww, thanks, Tanner. That’s sweet of you to say.” I bite back my laughter and pat his head. “Even if you won’t remember it in the morning.”

When I turn my head, Soren meets my gaze with a knowing look, then says to Tanner, “I can take you home, buddy. You’re in no shape to drive.”

Instead of responding to Soren’s offer, Tanner twists his head to look at me, his glassy eyes unfocused and his lids heavy.

“I’m s’glad yous shere now, Ali, so I can watch out for you…” His head bobs up and down like it’s on a puppet string, then jerks upright. He’s unsteady, clearly past the point of intoxication. I nod to Soren, giving him the go-ahead to try and herd my brother out of here.

Tanner just keeps talking, babbling and slurring in an embarrassing display. I don’t begrudge my brother letting off steam during his downtime, especially since it’s the offseason. He works hard at these public events, expending a lot of extroverted energy to make people happy.

Soren walks forward and comes to a stop behind us as I drop my arm from my brother and Soren steps into Tanner’s side, placing a steadying arm around his waist.