Dump and Chase (Nashville Assassins Next Generation 1)

For the love of God, how am I supposed to ignore this girl?

“Oh, let me get that.” I don’t even pay attention to Stella as she playfully wipes my mouth with a rag. “You’re drooling, bubba.”

“Shut it.”

“She’s pretty amazing, huh? I love listening to her.”

“Yeah,” I say as I watch people drop money in her tip jar. I knew Shelli sang; I remember when we were younger and all she did was walk around with her guitar. She was talented even then, but it’s nothing compared to now. Her voice stops the room, or at least me. It’s beautiful and belongs on a real stage. Just like that, all the pieces fall together. That was how she knew Chris; she was on Broadway.

Maybe I do need to grow up. If I had been paying even a bit of attention, I would have put two and two together. Then none of this would have happened. Then I wouldn’t have seen her crying in Elli’s truck. I still don’t know if that was about me, but I have a feeling it was.

“Everyone loves her here. She makes more money than I do, I swear it.”

“With a voice like that, how could she not?”

“Right? So talented.”

So beautiful.

I can’t take my gaze off her. Shelli opens her eyes, looking out into the bar as her voice carries, stealing everyone’s attention and stopping conversation. Her voice has an edge to it, but it’s soft and magical also. It’s not only her voice that has me breathless, it’s the way she sings. With such beautiful emotion, it’s impressive. It’s as if she is the song herself. It’s amazing to witness. She’s spectacular, but I could tell that before I slept with her.

If the need to apologize wasn’t great before, it is now. I don’t want her to be mad at me or even hate me. I don’t know why, but I can’t have that. Problem is, I don’t know how to apologize. I hardly ever have to, but I know I need to now. Not because my dad said to but because I want to. I lift up my glass and take a long sip as the napkin falls from where it clung to the base of my glass. I watch it fall, and then the idea is there. I place my glass down and reach for the napkin before stealing a pen out of the jar in front of me. I write quickly on the napkin and then glance back at the stage. She’s still singing as if there is no one in the room. My heart is in my throat as I get up, heading toward the stage and folding the napkin in my hand as the distance between us closes.

Her gaze locks with mine, and everything stops. With a shaky hand, I place the napkin on the sleek black piano before I bite my lip. She doesn’t stop singing, nor stop playing, but her eyes stay locked with mine, sending jolts of heat through my body. I want nothing more than to capture that mouth with mine and never stop. Her lips are so plump, so beautiful.

Shit… Asher may be right.

Chapter Twelve

Shelli

It’s as if I’m on autopilot.

Aiden’s eyes are like gray thunderclouds as he walks toward me. Or better yet, walks like he’s having sex. He’s just so smooth, so sexy. I’m usually not into guys who are always so damn GQed out—nice suits, perfect hair, and expensive shoes. But all the times I’ve seen him since New York, he’s been just that, and I’ve been insanely turned on by him. It irritates the fuck out of me that I allow him to do that, but then, my body has not caught up with my brain. And if I’m honest, my brain is the only smart thing at the moment.

Because this heart of mine is still one hundred percent yearning for Aiden Brooks.

It’s so annoying.

Especially since I’m pissed that I cried over him. How pathetic do I have to be to cry over some dude who doesn’t even want me? But then he’s walking toward me like that, and I feel like I’m the only thing he sees. My breath catches, but I keep on singing a soft version of Julia Michael’s “Issues.” I didn’t think I would love this job as much as I do. It’s such fun doing songs my way. I love it, and the money is great. Plus, I start my internship at the Assassins on Monday, and I’m stoked.

My life seemed to be getting on track, but then Aiden started for me with that spark in his eyes.

With his gaze intent on mine, he slides a napkin toward me. That’s it. Just the napkin, and then he walks away. Of course, I want to end the song right now and read it, but I still have another verse. As I sing, I watch him sit back at the bar and sip his wine. He’s watching me, those eyes ever so dark, with no cares that he’s staring at me. He’s utterly divine, and his suit fits him perfectly. His hair is down, curly around his face. He just shaved, and I know if I were near him, he’d smell delicious. He runs his finger along the mouth of his glass, and shit, it almost makes me forget the words to the song!