Cain sighs, then nods. He pulls me into a hug, a new habit of his since becoming a husband and father. And for just a moment, I let myself melt into it before he pulls back. We never hugged much growing up, so this feels like a win, even if it’s because he’s pitying me right now.
“I’ll be his lawyer. If he screws anything up, you come to me, and I’ll drop him immediately. No questions asked.”
I laugh easily. “This should be the easiest, least complicated case of our lives. We’ve got this. Now let’s get to conference room C so I can meet my new husband.”
Chapter 6: Boone
“It’s cold as hell,” Penn mutters, shuffling into our shared Manhattan apartment kitchen in nothing but an obnoxiously plush navy-blue terry cloth robe that’s clearly hiding nothing underneath.
He tugs the robe tighter around himself and gives a theatrical shiver, as if he’s just braved the Arctic tundra instead of the short walk from his bedroom.
“It’s not even that bad,” I reply, barely glancing up as I pour steaming hot chocolate into my thermos, prepping to head out for my meeting across town with my new lawyer and PR team.
Penn’s eyebrows shoot up as he leans against the counter, watching me like I’ve committed some kind of crime.
“When are you going to give up the hot cocoa, stop playing Santa’s elf, and finally embrace caffeine like a grown adult?”
“Never. Ho, ho, ho.” I screw the lid onto my thermos and click my heels together like an elf. “Caffeine is a drug.”
“Exactly,” he grins, like he’s won a point. “And one that I fully enjoy being addicted to since I can't do anything else during the season.”
I roll my eyes, though what I really want to say is something likeyou're addicted to a few other things like women and blowing all your money,but I hold my tongue.
“When are you going to accept the fact that New York winters aren’t that bad?”
Penn scoffs dramatically, flinging a handout toward one of our frost-covered windows.
“January in New York is the worst. I don’t care what anyone says. You can’t convince me otherwise. If we could give up a month, I’d volunteer January as tribute. And don’t pull the whole‘I’m from Canada, so I’m immune to the cold’card. That doesn’t mean this city doesn’t suck in the winter. I’d much rather be down south right now. And I know you'd rather be doing shots of tequila off some mamacita's stomach too.”
I can’t help but laugh. Maybe it’s because I grew up in Canada, where snow and freezing temperatures are just part of life, or because I spent my childhood on the ice, skating for hours and finding comfort in the cold, solid surface beneath my blades, but I’ve never minded winter.
Hell, I enjoy it. Even on a bone-chilling 15-degree day like today, I’m perfectly fine in a long-sleeve henley and black suit pants. No coat.
In fact, I think I might go do an ice bath at the stadium after this meeting. Recovery and nostalgia all wrapped in one. If you want to feel alive, that’s one way to do it.
“You’re too soft to be on defense,” I tease, leaning against the counter as I watch him clutch his robe like it’s a teddy bear.“Maybe I should talk to Coach, see if one of the new guys can step in. Wouldn’t want you getting ice burn during the game this weekend because it’stoo cold for you.”
“I hate you,” he grumbles, though his tone lacks any bite as I head out of the kitchen. He scoffs behind me. “As if anyone could replace me on defense!”
“I can think of about ten guys from theBoston Teawho could.”
“Fuck you!”
I smile and grab my shoes to pull them on while he trails behind me.
“Where are you off to now? Going to see Coach?”
I sigh, raking a hand through my hair. It’s overdue for a cut, but I’ve been too busy, or maybe too distracted to make the appointment.
“I doubt he’ll be there. Supposed to be meeting with Caleb and my new lawyer to go over our strategy for the upcoming case.”
“That’s tough.”
“Eh, no big deal,” I say, trying to convince both him and me. “They think they can get the case dropped and clean up my reputation so none of my sponsors drop me. If it’s enough to get me through the rest of my contract and a shot at an extension, then it’s worth it.”
“Sure, man,” he says, turning to the coffee maker and flipping it on. The scent of fresh brew fills the room, but it doesn’t tempt me. Never has. I’d rather think clearly, unclouded by the effects of the caffeine.
“What’s your plan for the rest of the day?” Penn asks as he pours himself a cup.
