Power Play (Nashville Assassins Next Generation 2)

I smile, thinking that’s cute, but by the way my mom is looking at her, she doesn’t think so.

“How nice.”

Her gaze moves to me, and I glare back, to which she looks away quickly. “I named Boon, Boon, because it means blessing. I knew that, no matter what, I was blessed to have him.”

Posey smiles curtly. “Yeah, I wish that were the case for me. Alas, I’m named after a doll my mom pulled out of a cabbage patch.”

I chuckle lightly, moving my hand along her shoulders, squeezing her neck.

“I like my name, though,” she says, meeting my gaze, and I nod.

“I love it,” I admit, and her eyes light up. I want to say the nerves fly away, but that leg is still bouncing. She’s getting one hell of a calf workout for sure.

I look back at my mom and see how she is scrutinizing us. “So, with your mom as the owner of the Assassins, did she just give you the job? Or did you finish college?”

I’m legit confused right now. Posey swallows hard and I want to stop her from answering, but she doesn’t seem affected by my mother. “I did finish college but decided not to pursue a career in my major since I was offered this job. I’ve been running plays for the Assassins for a couple years now, and our head coach of special teams thought I would be a good fit on a more official basis.”

“Oh, so your mother didn’t hire you?”

“Well, it was ultimately her decision, but the head coach suggested it.”

“Interesting.”

I can only blink, and when Posey looks at me, an expression of pure panic in her eyes, I shake my head. It’s fine, I mouth, but she doesn’t look convinced.

I’m not either.

Back and forth, they go, my mom grilling her as Posey answers. It continues throughout the appetizers, and if my looks could kill, my mom would be in trouble. I don’t understand what is going on here. I don’t know why she is treating Posey like this. I didn’t do this to Wilbur! My girl, though, she’s a champ, answering with nothing but respect. I can tell she is totally anxious, but she won’t back down.

“Mom, you good?” I ask once dinner is served.

I feel Posey’s gaze on my face as my mom meets my gaze. “Of course, sweetheart. Why?”

My eyes burn into hers, and I look toward Wilbur, who is more into his meatloaf than he is this conversation. “Just making sure.”

“I’m fine, honey,” she says as Posey’s phone sounds. She rushes to put it on silent and then brings her brows in. “I hate when people have cell phones at dinner.”

I gawk at my mom. “Seriously?”

Posey pushes back from the table. “I’m so sorry. Excuse me.” She answers the phone and gets up, heading toward the lobby, and I direct my gaze to my mom.

“What the hell is your problem?”

Mom shakes her head, laying down her fork and setting me with a look. “My problem is that girl is not for you.”

My jaw actually drops. “I’m sorry, what?”

“For one, she’s what? Ten?”

I glare. “Not that her age matters, but you know she’s twenty-one. You asked her!”

“I don’t care,” she whisper-scolds. “She doesn’t even look like your type. When did you get into thicker girls?”

“Wow. What the ever-loving fuck? Have you looked at Wilbur?” He doesn’t even look up; he just continues to eat. “That is not okay. She’s fucking perfect.”

But my mom actually shakes her head. “I don’t get it, Boon. I thought Julia was swimming in money, but Posey gives her a run for her money. She comes in here in shoes that cost more than my car payment!”

I blink. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“Her family, Boon. They’re crazy rich. The owner of a hockey team? A Hall of Famer? Her sister was on Broadway? Honey, why can’t you stay in your lane? Do we not remember how things played out with Julia?”

I run my hand down my face, completely and utterly flabbergasted. “This isn’t happening.”

“Do you think they’re gonna accept you? Julia’s family barely did, but I don’t think this one will. You are an employee, not husband material for their child. And I love you, baby, you know I do, but I can’t let you get hurt again.”

I’ve never experienced the kind of anger that is coursing through my bloodstream right now. All the insecurities I have when it comes to my relationship with Posey are being thrown in my face, and I almost don’t know how to handle it.

“Boon, it’s obvious you care for her way more than she does you. She doesn’t even look at you. She just sits there, rigid. You made her out to be funny and fun, but she has hardly talked—”

Okay. Talk about me all you want, but not Posey.