The Pool Boy (Nashville Neighborhood 2)

This wasn’t the kiss of a man who desired me physically. It said he wanted . . . more.

So much more.

Whenever I heard new music in my head, it was usually just fragments. Like a few fingers absentmindedly touching the keys of a piano. The melody in my mind now? It was strong and confident and nearly complete. It played in a beautiful, endless loop as Troy’s lips made wordless pleas and promises about our future.

Oh, God, I was drowning in this man.

How had I let this happen?

When the kiss ended, he tipped his forehead to mine and closed his eyes. “Okay, that’s better. I needed that.”

“Me too,” I whispered.

It was like I’d told him he was opening for Stella all over again, he looked that happy. His eyes burst open and searched mine to make sure he’d heard me right. I adjusted on my heels, which continued to prove they were lucky, straightening against the mirror.

“Let’s go out tomorrow night,” he said.

My heart skipped. “Like a date?”

He laughed softly. “Yeah, a date. You are my girlfriend, Erika.”

Part of me wanted this fiercely, but . . . “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Nashville’s a huge town.” His expression said he thought I was being overly cautious. “We’ll be fine. No one’s going to know.”

“You mean, besides Colin?”

Confusion made him pull his shoulders back. “What?”

“You told him we’re dating.”

Troy’s expression filled with alarm. “I didn’t.”

Annoyance moved through me and I put a hand on my hip. “Okay, then you told him we’re fucking, because he obviously knows.”

He looked like he was about to defend himself until the realization slammed into him. He wiped a hand over his mouth and grumbled it under his breath. “Fucking Preston.”

Seriously? I sighed. “You told Preston too?”

“No,” he said quickly. Then, he thought better of his answer. “Well, kind of? It wasn’t hard for him to figure out. My Jeep was in your driveway all night.”

My irritation dissipated. “Oh.”

“I asked him not to tell anyone, but I guess he couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut.” He glared off, perhaps planning the next conversation he was going to have with his friend, but then Troy’s focus swung back to me. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to them both, and Colin will be cool. He knows how to keep shit on the down-low.” He looked remorseful. “Sorry about that.”

It wasn’t his fault, and really . . . was it that bad if his friends knew? Other than it made me envious? As long as they stayed quiet a little longer, it’d be all right. Troy and I needed to deal with the balance of work and our relationship, plus telling Jenna and Bill, but I had an idea for that.

“It’s okay.” I gave him a sweet smile. “And I’m sorry I can’t stay to celebrate, but I have to get going.”

He nodded in understanding, unlocked the door, and held it open for me. “Thanks for coming.”

“I didn’t want you to be on pins and needles all day,” I said. “Plus, when I found out, I couldn’t wait to tell you.”

His grin was devious. “Still on pins and needles though. You didn’t say yes about tomorrow night.”

I laughed, strangely shy and tucked my hair behind my ear as I walked out of the changing room. Thankfully, the hall was empty. I turned and looked at him, marveling that this gorgeous man wanted to take me out.

“Yes,” I said.

His chest lifted as he took in a breath. “Cool. See you then.”

My pumps clicked against the tile as I strode toward the exit, but I only made it a few steps before Troy’s voice rang out.

“Hey . . . I forgot to tell you. I really like your shoes.”

I glanced back at him over my shoulder. “Thanks.” I grinned. “They’re my lucky heels.”

He smiled back at me.

The sun was glaring outside, and I dug inside my purse for my sunglasses as I walked across the parking lot toward my car. By the time I was seated inside it, my phone buzzed with a text message.

Troy: You wore them for good luck for me?

Me: For us.

I’d tried on three different tops before reaching for the black silk one with lace trim along the neckline. It had been cute and flirty before my breast augmentation, but with its deep V, I had cleavage for days and transformed into a bombshell. I’d avoided trying it on for my date, even though I knew I’d wear it. I’d needed to see the other tops first to justify it was the right choice. Or to work up the courage.

I had the silk shirt halfway on, my head through the neck hole, when my phone rang. It was Jenna, wanting to know if I was interested in joining her and Bill for dinner. Which I appreciated, but also found odd. They wanted me to be their third wheel?