I felt it anyway. I felt it in his soft touch on the back of my chair. All of it. Theyearning.
God, he was magnetic dressed in that handsome tux with his fresh haircut and cleaned up beard. I’m pretty sure half the women in the room were silently wishing thathewas the one auctioning off a date, not Penn.
I’ve thrown myself into work like my life depends on it. I’ve spent longer hours at the firm, more cases to ease Cain’s load so he can spend time with Rhiannon and my niece. Hell, I even took on a few of Dierk’s cases and met up with him for dinner one night at his favorite restaurant for steak.
The food was good; the conversation was terrible. But what else do you expect when two lawyers get together to talk shop?
And maybe I’m overcompensating. After all, the Mayhem’s schedule has been stacked with away games all over the country—south, north, west coast—you name it. Boone’s barely been in the city, let alone our apartment.
But hard work has always been my go-to coping mechanism, and this time is no different.
Now, with February coming to a close and the team back for their first home game in weeks, I can’t shake this feeling that’s running through my veins. It’s something sharp and electric. Like the air right before a snowstorm.
And, of course, there’s another storm brewing in the city tonight, threatening to dump two feet of snow and bring everything to a halt.
I hope it does.
Snow always brings a sense of magic or fate; or something equally ridiculous. It’s the same feeling that I had the night Boone and I first split ways after we got married while snowflakes fell from the sky, cleansing the dirty streets of New York City.
And with just one month left in our contract, I have no idea what to do with all this raw energy, scattered thoughts, and the obvious sexual tension that's still between us that he refuses to acknowledge.
“They’ve been playing so well,” I say, my eyes flicking to Jill.
She nods, her ponytail bouncing again. “Two months until conference finals.”
Andonemonthuntil our divorce.
“Boone’s been incredible,” she adds. “This is the best I’ve ever seen him play.”
“He’s been playing great. How long have you been watching the Mayhem?”
“Seven years, at least. And I’m serious, he’s never been this on fire. Especially with all the talk about his contract ending next year and, you know, aging out.”
I blink at that. Seven years, and this is the best he’s ever played?
I don't know what to make of that. I want to joke that it’s the pent-up sexual tension between us. Maybe he has extra testosterone flowing through his veins. But Boone's calm and collected out there.
He doesn't look fazed in the least or frazzled how I've been feeling.
“So,” Jill says, leaning toward me with a conspiratorial grin, “want to go up to the team suite and see if there’s any good food we can snag? Then we can wait in the tunnel while the guys do their post-game interviews. There’s a TV in the hallway if we want to watch them, but I’m starving.”
I shrug. “Sure.”
Normally, I’d pull out my laptop and get a little work done while Boone wraps up post-game discussions with his coach and interviews. If we’ve got dinner plans, I’ll hang around and wait and if not, I usually head back to the office.
Tonight, though…Boone and I have plans. Dinner. Another photo op to solidify in the judge’s mind just how solidour marriage is before his final court appearance next week with Cain.
One last performance and I haven’t talked to him in a whole week.
Jill leads the way as I grab my bag and follow her up to the suite. Two months of being married to Boone, and somehow, this is my first time stepping foot in here.
The space is sprawling, decked out in the Mayhem’s maroon and gold colors, with the team’s logo stamped on every available surface. The crowd is a mix. There are a few family members with children, but mostly it's young women snapping photos and talking excitedly.
“Stick close, or the puck bunnies will eat you alive,” Jill jokes, gripping my forearm and steering us toward the tables that are piled high with catered food. "I'm mostly kidding, the women who surround hockey are all very nice."
“Got it.” I nod. “The food looks amazing.”
“It is. All catered by a fancy restaurant down the street. It’s just usually not worth the risk to come up here and miss a play.”
