Page 31 of The Quarterback
“No later than eight. We can check into the hotel at noon. Which suit did you decide on?”
“You were supposed to pick for me,” he said, small smile on his lips. “Black or blue?”
“What kind of blue are we talking about? Navy or Easter pastel?”
“Bandana blue.” There was probably a fancy name for that shade, something in between deep sky and wide ocean and bright eyed, but he didn’t know things like that. Justin did, not him.
“You’re young enough to pull that color off. Go with that one. Bring that. Jeans or shorts for the drive. We’ll change when we get there.”
“’Kay. G’night. Thanks again, for everything.”
“Always happy to help.”
“And… congrats. For Justin’s one-year anniversary.”
“It’s notmyanniversary—”
“No, I know, but…” He fumbled for the right words. Screwed up his lips and frowned. “Justin wouldn’t be as happy as he is today if it weren’t for everything you’ve done for him. Today is also thanks to you. Because of that.”
Nick looked away. Blinked fast. His smile was fragile, and his fingers curled around his cell phone. “Thank you,” he whispered. “All I want is for him to be happy.”
Colton shrugged. “Well. You succeeded. He is.”
Nick turned that smile on him. His eyes were wet, prisms lining his lashes in the glow of the kitchen lights. “Good night, Colton.”
“Night, Nick.”
Chapter Ten
“The man with the plan!”Riley Kimbrough didn’t speak. He boomed, his deep Texas twang filling up his entire penthouse office. Unlike Nick, Kimbrough didn’t share the top floor of his skyscraper with anyone. Hewasthe top floor.
He wore Wranglers, a pearl-button cowboy shirt, a bolo tie with a miniature bull-skull slide, and the biggest cowboy hat Colton had ever seen. It nearly went from shoulder to shoulder. Kimbrough was a big man, too. Colton had to look up at him, and he could count on one hand the number of men he’d had to look up to since he’d shot skyward during puberty. Riley Kimbrough was taller, wider, and heavier than he was, with a belly that said he liked fine food and better booze.
Kimbrough grabbed Nick’s hand and squeezed. His grip engulfed Nick, and he tugged him close, slapped one hand on Nick’s back, grasped his shoulder. It was supposed to be affectionate, but Colton tried not to wince.
“Riley, good to see you.” Nick held the handshake as long as Kimbrough did. “Let me introduce you to Mr. Colton Hall. He’s my intern this summer.”
Kimbrough’s massive body shifted to face Colton. His gaze was like a lion’s, studying Colton all the way down to his bones, cataloging him. “Oh, I know all about Colton Hall.” He held out his left hand for Colton to shake, the same as Jim, Nick’s boss, had. He wasn’t awkward about it, either. “Hell of a bad break, son. Hell of a bad break. How long are you strapped in this contraption?”
He’d put on his Terminator sling for the drive, since, though he was healing, three hours in a Porsche was still three hours with a whip-tight suspension. He’d braced his arm with a pillow for the drive, and that had helped. So had the predrive painkiller.
“Another two weeks before I can raise my arm on my own. Then it’s six weeks of physical therapy to get on my feet.” Six weeks, at aminimum.
He saw Kimbrough calculating it, running the dates. Doing the math Colton was refusing to do. “Damn, son. Football camp starts about that time. You’re going to have to push hard on that timeline, aren’t you?”
He swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
“You’ll get it done. You’re a damn fine quarterback. Texas ain’t my team, but I have loved watching you play.” He turned his attention back to Nick, sliding him a conspiratorial grin. “Now, how’d you manage to get Colton Hall here to intern for you this summer? You’re good, but you ain’t that good, Nick!”
Nick laughed before Colton could protest. “We know each other outside of football. Off the field.”
“Oh, yeah? And you saw an opportunity, didn’t you?” He winked at Colton. “Nick here taking you to see all his top football-loving clients? You dazzling everyone with stories from the gridiron?”
His jaw dropped. “Uh…”
“Colton is working very hard,” Nick said, rescuing him. “He’s doing a phenomenal job with everything. This is his first trip with me. I wanted him to see how smoothly a big rollout can go.”
Kimbrough laughed again, tipping his head back as he hooked his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. “Nick, you are one smooth son of a bitch, I’ll give you that. You ever get tired of slinging cell phones and mobile networks, you come work with me. You could sell Jesus to the pope.”
