Dirty Toe Drag (Nashville Assassins Next Generation 6)

Without going in with him.

When he doesn’t move, I eye him. “You ready?”

His eyes search mine. “Can I take you out?”

I blink. “Out?”

“Yeah, on a date.”

“A date?”

His lips quirk. “If you want.”

I’m lost in his eyes, and I have no control of my mouth at this point.

“Yes.”

Chapter Nine

Stella

Oh. Shit.

I agreed to a date with Wes.

Okay. No big deal. Who am I kidding? This is huge. What if he asked me so that I would go back to his house with him? What if a date to him means fucking like rabbits? I can’t do that, no matter how much I want to. I have exhibited some incredible restraint when it comes to Wesley McMillan, and I’m not giving that up now!

I’m shaking as I drive toward his house. Neither of us has said anything about the potential date since we got in the car. Instead, we’ve been singing along to the radio and enjoying the ride down the country roads.

That’s when I realize something.

“You didn’t actually drink tonight. Do you have practice tomorrow?”

Wes’s voice trails off from the song he is singing, and he shakes his head. “No, we don’t.”

“Oh, then why didn’t you drink? I figured that’s why I drove, to be your DD.”

“No, it was because you knew where we were going.”

“True. Do you not drink?”

He gives me a side-eye. “You think I’m an alcoholic or something?”

She grins. “No. I just know you love a good beer. They even had your favorite.”

“Yeah, I saw it. Didn’t want it.”

“Oh,” I answer, and then I tease, “Don’t trust yourself drunk around me?”

He laughs at that. “I have way more willpower than you’re giving me credit for, Stella.”

“Uh-huh,” I singsong, and he laughs some more. “Just figured you’d want to since you had such a rough day.”

He doesn’t answer me at first, not even a nod; he just stares out the window. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that? I probably sound stupid. He didn’t drink, so who cares? I care. I just feel that he had a rough day, and a nice beer would have taken the edge off. I don’t know. I second-guess myself so much when it comes to him. I already said it. If he wants to ride in silence, that’s fine.

“I don’t drink on therapy days. Especially rough ones.”

I wasn’t expecting that. So many questions run through my head. I want to ask why he’s in therapy, I want to know why it was rough, I want to know everything. “I’m sorry it was a difficult one.”

He shrugs. “My therapist, Noelle, is moving, so I have to get a new one. It has me all stressed out.”

“That super sucks.”

“It does, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Have you had her long?”

“Since I’ve been on the team.”

“Wow. That’s going to be a big change.”

“Yeah. I hate getting to know someone new. I get comfortable, and…I don’t know. It sucks, but I’m committed to it. So, I’ll do what needs to be done.”

“Well, duh. Of course you will.” I wonder what he’s in therapy for? Sex addiction? Surely not… Instead of asking why, I say, “I’m sorry, though. Anything I can do to help? I can be an ear.”

He grins. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

I send a grin back before I return my attention to the road so I can get off the interstate. As I turn downtown toward Brooks, he asks, “Can I have your number? So I don’t have to stalk you through Instagram?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” I say before I give him my number. Between my legs, my phone vibrates.

“That’s me.”

Not in the way I want him, but I’ll keep that comment to myself.

“Okay, cool.” I head past Brooks and follow the directions he gives me to his house. I pull up in front of one of the ritzy townhouses. They’re brand-new and really pretty. Each one has a different look—from stone to brick to wood. “Which one is yours?”

“This one,” he says, pointing to the one with the wooden exterior. It’s the one I would have chosen too. I stop, putting on my hazards as he fishes his keys out of his pocket. He meets my gaze and smiles widely. I know it’s coming. He’s going to ask me in. I know it. Oh, Stella, get ready, girl. We have to turn him down. Do not say yes. It doesn’t matter how gorgeous he looks. Or how great he smells. “What’s your week look like?”

I swallow hard as I think through my week. “I’m off Thursday and Sunday.”

His eyes sparkle as they hold mine. “Sunday? Is three too early?”

“No, not at all. That sounds great. What are we doing?”

“Cool. Um, we’re doing something…cool.”

“Do I need special clothing for the something cool?” I ask since, obviously, I have to dress accordingly.

“No. I don’t think so. I’ll let you know if something changes.”