Dump and Chase (Nashville Assassins Next Generation 1)

She stands as she brings the guitar to her stomach, strumming her fingers along the strings. As she tunes it, I lift the other case and put it on the coffee table before opening it. “Why didn’t you bring them home?”

“I totally forgot about them. I brought them over to Essie’s house for a party, and I got trashed. Forgot them.”

I lift the Echo acoustic up to my chest and strum it. “Well, since you don’t want to care for them, I’ll be happy to take them home with me.”

“Please, I love these guitars. Aww, she had them tuned for me. She’s so sweet.”

I nod. “This one needs to be cleaned.”

“Yeah,” she says, and she then grabs a rag off the sink. As she wipes them down, she looks over at me. “Was it weird seeing Chris?”

When I saw the guy who had ultimately fixed us up, I thought I would still be pissed at him, but I wasn’t. I didn’t care. “Nope. We hardly talked. Just pleasantries.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” I ask. “What… Did you want me to fight him for your honor?”

She snorts. “No, not at all. Just thought you’d tell him about us.”

Our eyes meet. “Shell, I told him about us like a month ago.”

Her eyes widen. “You did?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? What did you say?”

My lips curve a bit as I look down at the guitar. I guess I’m a bit embarrassed. “I said, ‘Thanks for fixing us up. It was the best thing that could have happened to me.’”

“You really said that?”

I nod. “I did.”

She sends me a dazzling grin. “Well, that’s very sweet.”

“Well, it’s very true.”

I want to take her in my arms and kiss that pouty mouth. Such tenderness is all over her face, and it’s leaving me breathless. She bites her lip and then looks down at the guitar. “Wanna know the first song I played on it?” Her grin is the one she flashed when she finished her audition. I was two seconds from standing up and telling those casting people if they didn’t sign her, I would. For what, I have no clue, but I was blown away by her. I find that happens a whole lot.

“What?” I ask, looking up at her as she plays nothing in particular, but still, I think she’s beautiful doing it.

“‘Free Fallin’,’” she says happily. “I sang it at my third-grade talent show, and these guitars made me want to play it again.”

I look down at the strings. When I start the song, she stops playing. I look back up, and her eyes are full of excitement.

“You never cease to amaze me, Aiden Brooks.”

With a grin on my lips, I start to sing the popular, well-written song. She comes over to me, sitting on the coffee table in front of me, and starts playing along. “Oh, you weren’t calling me a good girl earlier,” she comments as I sing and she plays. “I do love my momma. Jesus too. Elvis is by far the greatest singer ever, and yeah, my boyfriend is okay.” I wink as I continue. “Total bad boy, but you miss me all the time.”

She isn’t wrong.

Our eyes meet when she starts to sing. Her voice complements mine, making me sound pretty damn good. Or maybe it’s just her. She looks so regal, so perfect. I lean closer, and her knees slide between my legs, our guitars almost touching as we sing in unison. I love how she sings, how her lashes kiss her cheeks when she hits those high notes. I let her take over, singing the second verse as her flirty eyes burn into mine, making me feel like this is all brand-new. Unable to handle it, I stop playing and lay my guitar down on the couch. I then reach for hers, setting it on the table before trapping her hips between my hands and bringing our mouths together. She leans into the kiss, and everything fades away.

I don’t see her sitting across from me at the ritzy restaurant I took her to. Or how she laughed her ass off when the lobster flew out of my hand when I was trying to crack it open. I don’t even see her onstage, where she absolutely belongs. As much as I don’t want to be without her, I know she has to go. She has to do this. I run my fingers along her sharp jaw, and all I feel, all I see, is her.

I stand, pulling her up with me as she wraps her arms around my neck. I undo the tie at her neck before finding the zipper at the base of her back. Once I have her all undone, I step back, and the dress falls to the floor with ease. With only some stickers on her nipples and a barely there thong, my girl stands in all her glory. Her eyes are hooded as I take her by her ass, lifting her up as our mouths meet once more.