Page 35 of Romancing the Grump
I nod, easily imagining how frustrating this whole experience probably has been for Nathan and his family. “Even a random name could be better than a public defender. They’re usually overworked and underpaid and they never have enough help.”
Nathan nods. “Sounds about right. But I’m worried about this plea deal. The last time I talked to Blake, he made it seem like the other guys are trying to pin everything on him. And now his attorney is saying he got Blake a deal, but why would he plead guilty if he didn’t even know why they were at the house? He was just driving the car.”
“Do you know what the deal was?” I ask.
“I haven’t talked to the attorney, but my mom said something about juvenile detention and community service. If that happens, he’ll stop playing hockey, and that’s the last thing he needs.”
I’ve never heard Nathan say so many words at one time. On the one hand, I love the deep rumble of his voice. On the other, it makes my heart hurt to know it’s his distress over his brother that’s making him say anything at all.
There are so many questions Icouldask, questions Iwouldask if this were my case, if Blake were sitting in front of me. As it stands, it won’t do Nathan any good for me to give him hope based on conjecture and conclusions I’m in no position to reach. But Idothink I can help him.
Even more than that, I really want to help him. And not just because I want to see justice done or because Nathan’s a good guy and it sounds like Blake is a good kid. There’s definitely something else happening here too.
I want to help because I want Nathan to like me. I want him to change his mind.
“Nathan, could your mother afford to hire another attorney for Blake?”
His eyebrows lift. “How much are we talking?”
“A lot. Tens of thousands of dollars, minimum.”
He frowns. “She definitely couldn’t. But…” His eyes glaze over for a moment, like he’s calculating numbers in his brain, then he nods, his expression resolute. “I could. I could make it work.”
I still hesitate. I don’t know what Nathan’s personal financial situation looks like, but I do know what he makes as an Appie. The players do significantly better than your typical minor league team, but they aren’t making NHL-level salaries. With the endorsement and branding deals they’re getting, they might be coming close, but how many of thosedeals does Nathan have? I know what Flex is offering him, and he’d probably need most of it to pay for a top-tier attorney.
But we can worry about that part later. Assuming I can even make this work.
I grab my phone and scroll through my contacts until I find the name I’m looking for.
Franklin Mercer.
“So, I don’t want to overstep here,” I say to Nathan, “but I have a friend from law school who lives in Boston. I don’t know if he’ll be in a position to help, but I do know he’s practicing criminal law, so if he can’t take this on personally, he’ll know someone who can. Can I call him for you? I trust him completely, or I wouldn’t even ask.”
Nathan sits up, his hands gripping the tops of his knees, his expression completely disbelieving. “Are you serious?”
“Of course I’m serious. I’d be happy to help.” I notice the time on my phone and grimace. “I shouldn’t call this late. But I can text him and see if he has time to talk tomorrow.” I start typing up the message, then look up at Nathan. “Can you text me your brother’s name and any information you have about the case? His current attorney’s name, the date the crime happened, where he’s in school, that sort of thing.”
Nathan nods and reaches for his phone. “I can, but I don’t have your number.” He moves to the bed and sits down beside me, close enough to hand me his phone. “Can you give it to me?”
A tiny thrill shoots through me as I take his phone and program my number into his contacts, then send myself a quick text so I’ll have his number too. I shouldn’t care if I have his number—this is basically a business transaction—but the more time I spend with Nathan, the more my brain seems to blatantly disregard what it knows to be true.Nathan isn’t interested in a relationship. Not with me. Not with anyone.
So why am I still so excited about this?
“Done,” I say as I hand his phone back. His fingers brush against mine as he takes it, and goosebumps race up my arm.
Stupid goosebumps. Stupid arm. Stupid man with his stupid opinions about relationships.
“I’m sure I’ll hear back from Franklin soon. I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”
Nathan nods before pulling his hair out of the ponytail it’s been in all evening and running his fingers across his scalp. It’s a mesmerizing thing to watch; Nathan is giving offstrongChris-Hemsworth-as-Thor vibes, and it’s all I can do not to reach up and touch his hair.
When my phone vibrates with an incoming FaceTime call, I almost sigh with relief at the distraction. I havegotto spend less time thinking about what it would feel like to touch Nathan.
“Oh my gosh,” I say, looking at my phone. “That’s Franklin now. Give me a sec?”
Nathan nods, and I move to the opposite side of the hotel room, next to the window, to answer the call.
“Well, if it isn’t Summer Callahan,” Franklin says as soon as his face pops into the screen. His hair is shorter than it was the last time we had a video call, and he’s wearing new glasses, the light blue frames a contrast to his deep brown skin. But he’s just as handsome and perfect as ever, and it makes my heart happy to see him.
