Law #3: Don't Fall for the Athlete: Sweet Second Chance Romance (Laws of Love) Agnes Canestri (books like harry potter .TXT) đ
- Author: Agnes Canestri
Book online «Law #3: Don't Fall for the Athlete: Sweet Second Chance Romance (Laws of Love) Agnes Canestri (books like harry potter .TXT) đ». Author Agnes Canestri
Cora snorts. âWell, either go and change, or else just cover the milk spot with your blazer.â
âGood idea.â Hope grins and immediately reaches for her navy jacketâs button.
Cora rolls her eyes. âTypical, always the easy way out.â Then her gaze settles on Hopeâs cereal and she adds, âAnd you shouldnât have used Ellieâs lucky bowl.â
âSorry,â Hope mumbles to me. âI didnât check which one I grabbed.â
Seeing her guilty grimace, I donât feel like scolding her, so I shrug. âItâs no biggie. Iâll just use another.â I turn to grab a blue striped dish from the shelf. âItâs not like that extra bit of luck would change what she thinks of me.â
And it probably wouldnât.
Still, it couldnât have hurt to stack my chances before speaking with Stephanie.
When I pivot back to my friends, Hopeâs staring at me with the same interrogative glare she must use at court. âWait a minute, Ellie, are your heebie-jeebies work related?â
My brows jump up. âWhat gave me away?â
âYou said she, and the only woman whose opinion youâve been apprehensive about lately is your bossâs.â
Hope, though she doesnât look the role when sheâs gulping down her favorite snack, is a hot-shot lawyer on her way to making junior partner. I guess her wit of turning verbal slips around is the reason sheâs as successful in her career as she is, despite being a bit of a mess when it comes to her physical surroundings.
Cora drops the wooden spoon she used to whisk the stew and steps over to me. âIs something special happening that we donât know of?â
âKind of. I decided to ask Stefanie to grant me my first real case,â I say.
âHallelujah, sugar.â Cora throws her arms in the air.
âAbout time!â Hope exclaims, too.
Their reaction warms my chest. âYou think I deserve this?â
Cora rolls her eyes, that, with her new hair color, glimmer in an almost arctic blue. âOf course you do. You shouldâve asked your boss to let you fly solo ages ago.â
âBut Iâm the youngest assistant on our floorâŠâ I mumble out loud one of the biggest doubts that has been plaguing me.
Hope slurps the milk from her bowl then lowers it to the table. She stands up, walks over to us, and hops up on our kitchen counter. âYou might be young, babe, but youâre super talented,â she says, opening her arms. Her hand knocks over the napkin holder, scattering green papers on the black marble.
âOopsie!â She gathers the napkins hurriedly, so that none of the corners match, and sticks them back into the holder.
âSo I shouldnât have any reason to feel like a pretentious cheat for wanting more responsibility?â I ask, while I pull the napkin holder in front of me to correct Hopeâs hasty work.
Cora puts a hand on mine. âNone. Youâre a hard worker, loyal and insightful. Youâll do great on your own.â
Hope clicks her tongue. âI have a magic bullet against your imposter syndrome.â
My eyes light up. âYeah?â
âYeah.â Hope jumps down to the floor. âItâs called âpower stanceâ and goes like this.â She strikes a pose that makes her look like a sexy female version of Harvey Specter from Suits.
âAnd this works in court?â Cora asks, doubtfully.
âOf course it does. Every flipping time.â Hope grins then throws me a glance. âAnd not just there. Also with guys. They find a confident woman irresistible.â
âIâm sure they do,â I say, without actually considering the possibility of using the posture anywhere else but with my boss.
Itâs not that I couldnât use a bit of help in the relationship department. I clearly donât have the best track record with guys.
Especially one guy.
I quickly suppress the memory that threatens to surface. Itâs unhealthy that, even after so many years, his face is the one that pops into my mind at Hopeâs comment.
Iâve dated others, so why canât I recall their dimples, dang it?
Cora bites her lip, probably to hold back a spicy comment about Hopeâs new boyfriend, Mitch. My roomies love each other, but their take on what we should look for in an ideal man couldnât be more different.
Iâm glad Cora doesnât bring up Mitch. While I share some of Coraâs worries about himâI mean who couch-surfs on a constant basis at the age of thirty-five?âweâve both expressed our concerns to Hope about Mitch and sheâs been clear that his juvenile lifestyle doesnât bother her.
Hope points her finger at me. âOkay, your turn. Show us some power.â
I try to imitate her stance.
Hope helps me adjust the angle. I tilt my hips and she shoves my elbows a tick wider as I fold my arms. I never realized it took so much muscle power to look confident. My back aches after only a minute of holding my pose.
Iâm sure I donât look half as good as Hope does, but my roomies applaud me on my efforts.
Cora notices that Iâm getting exhausted and decides to rescue me from Hopeâs zeal to perfect my posture. She claps her hands. âOkay, I think this is enough to polish her posture. Now, we need to move on to her words.â
I sigh with relief, dropping my arms. âGreat idea. Letâs eat Coraâs stew and I can rehearse my pitch for tomorrow.â
Chapter 3
(Wyatt)
âItâs my way or the highway, Wyatt.â Coach Fieldingâs coarse voice bounces off his officeâs walls which, like a convent, are strictly undecorated.
His tone has the same domineering quality as when he hoots an order in the gridiron on a game day, leaving no doubt that heâs serious about this ultimatum.
Not that Iâd ever suspect our head coach of joking.
The pot-bellied man is as charming on his good days as a bear poked awake from his winter hibernation, and he has only one measure in lifeâwhatever helps his football team win the next Super Bowl is good.
Everything else is dung.
And the behavior I exhibited in practice today definitely falls into his second category.
I stare at the coachâs XXL trashcan-gray
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