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Dump and Chase (Nashville Assassins Next Generation 1)

Page 54

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He blinks as he steps out and heads to his room.

“Oh! I can’t wait for you to see the closet,” I gush as I walk past him and head to the closet. I open it with my hands out. “Amazing, right?”

He walks in, his eyes wide. “It’s all separated by color?”

“Yes and no. So these are all your suits, and I think I matched the right shoes with them on this side, and then here are all your regular clothes, in order by color. Then back there is all your workout gear. In the drawers are underwear and socks. All your shoes are up on the racks, but I can move them down here.”

He doesn’t say anything. He just turns to look around the room. “I’m not supposed to think it’s weird that you remember my place back in New York, right?”

“Right. We are ignoring that.”

He swallows hard again. “Okay.”

“I unpacked all your bathroom stuff and put it away,” I say, moving my hand toward the bathroom, but then I start out the door. I feel as if I’m rambling, and if I am, it’s because he doesn’t seem very impressed by my amazing organization skills. My mom says I’m a genius, and I need Aiden to realize that before I start feeling like a weirdo. I bite the inside of my cheek and try to ignore the warning signs in my head that Aiden has decided I’m a freak. “I put away all your kitchen stuff, but I noticed you only had plastic plates—which, you’re almost thirty, you need real plates. I went to Pottery Barn and picked out this gorgeous set,” I say, going over to the bar and holding up one of the plates. “It’s a housewarming gift.” His brow is still furrowed, and his arms are now crossed over his chest. I lick my lips to keep from freaking out. “I made my mom’s famous fried chicken and mashed potatoes for lunch. I know you like her sweet tea, so I made some. I know it’s not very health conscious like your mom has been cooking, but I figured, why not?”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“You guess?”

He shrugs as he looks around. “It’s just a lot.”

“A lot?” I ask, breaking down each syllable.

He meets my gaze and nods. “You unpacked my whole apartment, and you remembered what my other place looked like. That’s weird.”

“I thought we weren’t discussing that.”

“Shelli, it’s hard not to. I didn’t expect this. I thought you’d be waiting for me naked and we’d go at it some more. Not for you to completely unpack and cook for me. I didn’t ask you to do this.”

I bite the inside of my cheek as my heart pounds in my chest. “I know. I did it to be nice.”

“It’s weird.”

“It is not!”

“Shelli, you put away my underwear. Bought towels for my bathroom. It’s all very intimate.”

I make a face. It is, but I’m not admitting that. “It’s not like we don’t know each other. We grew up together. It’s different for me. Maybe after a first date with a girl that you don’t know, yes, this would seem way out of line. But I helped pack you to move you to New York. I know you.”

He holds his hands up, moving them around his head frantically. “Wait. What first date?”

Now my brow is furrowed. “Last night.”

“We had sex.”

I am pretty sure there is steam coming out of my ears.

“Shelli, come on. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” I sneer.

“Like you’re about to throw that plate at me.”

I let go of the plate and take a step back. “Tell me something, Aiden. What are we doing?”

“What are we doing?” he asks incredulously. “You said we didn’t have to know what we’re doing!”

“That was when I thought you liked me.”

“I do like you.”

“Then why are you being weird?”

“Shelli, we fucked last night, and I thought we would today. Thought we’d order in and then go at it some more. But I come home to this madness—”

I blink back the tears. “Madness?”

“Yeah, it’s a lot to digest. No one has ever done this for me.”

“And if it were Stella or your mom who did this?”

He makes a face. “They’re my family. You’re you.”

“Which is?” I ask, and his mouth just opens, no words coming out. I see the panic in his eyes. I want to feel sorry for him, but the proof is in the pudding. “That’s right—just a fuck.”

I blow out a breath and walk around the bar as he says, “Shelli, that is not true.”

He tries to grab me, but I move out of his grip. “Fuck you, Aiden Brooks.”

I need to get out of here. I grab my phone and my keys.

“Shelli, please, stop. Calm down.”

I whip around. “Do not tell me to calm down. You’ve hurt me twice now, Aiden. I’m done.”



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