The Pool Boy (Nashville Neighborhood 2)

“I know you’ve got a million things on your mind,” I said, “so let me clear one thing up.” I slid my palm down over his shoulder and onto his chest, directly over his heart. “This is what I want.”

Beneath my hand, the thump of his heart sped up.

My voice was unsteady, but my determination was strong. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before, but I won’t give up. I wasn’t just scared. After Clark, I was fucking terrified, but you didn’t give up on me.” I gained strength and power as I spoke. “You don’t have to believe for both of us. I’m all in with this.” I pressed my hand against his chest, wanting to possess the heart inside. “I’m all in with you.”

Troy stared at me like he was on total overload, and—shit—had I broken him?

“If that’s what you want,” I breathed.

His focus drifted beyond me and he cleared his throat. “Mom? Bill? Can y’all give us a minute?”

Every muscle inside me went tense. As soon as I’d seen him, everything else had faded away, and then I’d been in a mad rush to get it all out. I hadn’t paid any attention to the rest of the room, or the alcove beside the door where his parents had been sitting.

I stood as a statue in Troy’s arms, unable to turn and look at Jenna, who’d basically overheard me tell her son I was in love with him. There was shuffling as they stood.

“We’ll just . . . go take some pictures of the stage,” Bill said.

I shut my eyes tightly, not opening them until the door clicked closed behind them.

My eyelids were only open for a fraction of a second before they fell closed under the power of Troy’s kiss. It was so passionate, new tears stung at the corners of my eyes. He cupped the back of my head and adjusted the angle so he could part my lips with his and slip his tongue against mine.

A noise of satisfaction came from deep in my throat, and he increased the intensity of the kiss. I hadn’t said I loved him using those exact words, but it was implied, and he was implying the same thing through this connection.

The world was spinning when his kiss ended. Our lips remained so close, they brushed over each other as we spoke, tasting and sampling like we couldn’t get enough.

“In case that didn’t make it clear,” he whispered, “I want this.”

“I thought you were in here alone.” I smiled softly. “I might have waited to say all that if I’d known they were on the other side of the room.”

“I made them because they were freaking me the fuck out.”

The whiskers of his scruff bristled against my fingers as I touched his face. “Are you okay?”

He turned so he could drop a kiss in the center of my palm and gave me a sexy smirk. “I’m much better now.” As if I were one hundred percent the reason for it. “You have this power over me. When I get nervous, I tell myself I’m singing only to you, and then I’m good.”

Lord, he was killing me. “You can’t just say stuff like that.” My tone was teasing, even though I was serious. “You’re going to make me cry again and my makeup is probably already a mess.”

He brushed the pad of his thumb under my eye, probably wiping away a mascara darkened tear track. “Nope. Still the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

His gaze skimmed down over my black blouse and black leather pants before landing on my hot pink heels.

“Your lucky shoes,” he said.

“Yeah.” I grinned. “I wore them for you.”

“For us,” he corrected.

TWENTY-FOUR

Troy

Black curtains hung across the stage, sectioning off what was already set for Stella’s show. The stadium was buzzing with fans. We could hear the crowd from behind the wings, but also see some of them too. The stage was placed at one end of the bowl of the arena, meaning there were cheap seats that only had a view from the sides.

They could see Erika and me waiting together for the show to begin, as well as the stage manager, plus the guitar bay and other equipment. I had her hand wrapped in mine, and she hadn’t let go of me since she’d grabbed on, so I figured it was all right. My nerves were getting to me, but I did my best to play it off like it was no big deal. Like I was totally cool with walking onstage and performing for thousands of people, and it wasn’t giving me cold sweats.

It’d been a little over an hour since I’d completed my rehearsal walkthrough. I’d carried my guitar to my mark on center stage, strummed a few chords, and tested the beginning of my opening song. It was surreal. The seats were empty, but they’d spread out for miles in all directions, and I’d struggled to catch my breath.