Dump and Chase (Nashville Assassins Next Generation 1)

A wide grin takes over my face. “I should take it, right?”

“Yes, without question.”

“But what about us—”

“No way, Shelli. We’re good. You have to do this, and I’ll be there opening night, cheering you on.”

My eyes search his. “I’ll have to leave this summer.”

“Well, you better make room for me because I’m coming too.”

“To stay with me?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s like living together, you know?”

“So? We practically live together now.”

“Do we now?”

He gives me a look. “Stop making this weird.”

My lips curve. “So, no warning bells?”

He shakes his head, giving me a little smidge of a grin. “None.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He kisses the back of my hand and then grins as he holds it. “Man, Shelli, I’m so proud of you,” he says, kissing me once more. I savor his kiss, loving the feel of his lips and missing them when he pulls away. “Dinner tonight. Me and you, sushi. Celebration with wine.”

I nod eagerly. “I will do extra cardio since I will be eating my body weight in tuna rolls, and I have to wear a bodysuit where my ass hangs out soon.”

He kisses my nose. “You eat what you want, and if you want to do the cardio, do it. If you don’t, I got you tonight,” he says with a wink, and I giggle like a little girl. I want to scream in his face that I love him, but I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Wait. No, fuck that.

“I love you, Aiden Brooks. So much,” I say, kissing his top lip.

He holds my face close, kissing my bottom lip. He rubs his nose against mine, his fingers tangling in my hair before he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding into my mouth, needy. When he pulls back, taking in a deep breath, his eyes meet mine. I know he isn’t going to say it, but I almost feel like he wants to.

I can’t take the silence, though. “You’re gonna be late.”

He doesn’t move. His eyes just burn into mine, and I know he is struggling. He wants to say it, he wants to tell me he loves me, but he wants to be sure. “I’m really, really, really proud of you, and you blow me away.”

It bothers me that he doesn’t say it, but then, it doesn’t. He’s trying.

“Thank you.” I grip his jaw. “Go to practice.”

He kisses my nose and hands me the keys before getting out. He grabs his bag from the back and heads in. When he reaches the door, though, he looks back at me, tipping his chin at me in that sexy, manly way. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him like that. Not when he has practice and he’ll be thinking of my words constantly. But I want him to think about it. I don’t want to be a distraction, but I want him to realize what he is feeling.

I scoot over to the driver’s side, and I’m about to start the truck when my phone rings. It’s my mom. “Hey, I just got in.”

“Almost an hour ago.”

I laugh. “Stalker much?”

“Maybe,” she teases. “How’d it go?”

“I think it went great,” I say without giving away my big news. I want to tell her in person.

“Wonderful. Hey, where are you?”

“Um,” I say, looking around to make sure I don’t see her. “I’m actually on the roof of the arena. I was going to go work out.” Not a total lie. I am, and I was—but later. I wanted to go home and maybe take a nap first.

“So committed,” she says proudly, and I smile.

“Ya know it.”

“When you get done, can you swing by the office?”

“Your office?” I ask, and for some reason, the tone of her voice is throwing me off.

“Well, yes, sweetheart,” she laughs. “I want to hear about the audition!”

Oh. Duh. “Yeah, I’ll be about an hour. Just cardio today.”

“Great. Gives me time to bitch at some of these players before you get here.”

“What did the guys do now?”

“Oh, you know, normal player stuff. Whoring around.”

Not my man.

“Get them, Momma. Use the Adler iron fist!”

She laughs, but it’s not her normal laugh. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

As I hang up and gather my things to go do the workout I wasn’t committed to, I feel like something is off.

I’m not sure what, but I know something is.

I shower after my workout and put on Aiden’s Willie Nelson tee and a pair of sweats. It’s all I have clean from our trip to New York. After packing up my bag and checking in on practice, which is in full swing, I head to my mom’s office. I wave at the receptionist, and when she doesn’t stop me, I go right in. To my surprise, though, my dad is sitting in one of the wingback chairs. A tight smile is on his face. “Oh hey, Dad!”

“Hey, baby,” he says, getting up to kiss my temple. “How was New York?”