Thank God. Or thank Catie. Better not tell her that. She’d probably command him to refer to her as God from then on.

After paying—and after the selfie, for which Catie leaned forward into the gap between the two front seats—they got out under the shelter of an awning. Danny automatically held out an arm in case Catie wanted to take it. She usually didn’t, but she curled her fingers around his biceps today. It wasn’t until they were inside the lobby that he realized she wasn’t holding on to him. She was holding him.

His cheeks burned.

Aggravated at the continuing heaviness in his head, he said, “Where are we?”

“Jacqueline has an apartment in the city.” She gave the crisply uniformed front desk concierge a cheery wave before heading to the elevator. “My girls and I were staying here.”

He froze. “Your girls?”

A roll of the eyes, the glitter on her lids sparkling. “No need to hit the panic button. They flew out after the club last night—I was supposed to go with them, but I made an excuse.” A disgusted face. “Do you know they actually believed Viliame’s stupid rumor about the two of us hooking up?”

“Vili what?” Danny felt like his head was exploding.

“I’ll catch you up upstairs.”

Upstairs ended up being the penthouse. Of course it did. This was Jacqueline Rain’s place after all. “It smells like women.” He sniffed the air, his eyes narrowed. “All perfumy and soft.” Then he turned to sniff at her. “Ugh, you smell like a woman too.”

Catie snorted at him, laughter in her tone. “You want a shower? Viliame grabbed your stuff from the team hotel and dropped it off, and I asked the concierge to put it…”

Stopping, she went back out into the small entrance area… and returned with his bag. “Voilà!”

The shower did help, and he was feeling much better by the time he walked out, dressed in a clean pair of gray sweatpants and a white tee. Catie, her hair damp from her own shower, wore a velour sweat suit in eye-searing purple as she stood at the kitchen counter scrambling eggs.

The outfit, with its gold zips and epaulets on the shoulders, should’ve been a monstrosity, but she made it look kick-ass. But, of course, he could never allow her to know that.

Raising his hand to his face, he said, “My eyes, my eyes!”

“Shut up or no eggs for you.” She pushed over her phone. “And call your parents. They just rang to say their flight was canceled. I told them you were fine, but they want to talk to their baby boy.” She smirked. “Coochie coo.”

“Bite me.” But his lips twitched—he knew just how much she loved his folks; last month she’d taken them out for lunch for no reason but that she enjoyed their company.