Dirty Toe Drag (Nashville Assassins Next Generation 6)

“It is. Really cool.”

“I think so,” she says, unlocking the back door and then going straight to the alarm panel. I wait for her, locking the door behind me. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” I say as she unsets the alarm and then waves for me to come with her.

“Come on. The cupcakes are this way,” she says with a wide grin. I follow, of course leaving some space between us so I can check out her ass. She has such wide hips, and that ass of hers is nice and thick, the fabric of her dress stretching to the max. She gives me a tour of the shop, and I’m fascinated by the look of it. I really did think it would be plain, though it’s anything but. It’s whimsical, cheerful, and I can see why she likes making cupcakes. It seems like a damn good time. We go through a door, entering a huge industrial kitchen, and I look around as she walks over to a fridge-looking thing, bringing out a tray of cupcakes. My stomach rumbles at the sight of them. I’ve never been a fan of sweets, but then I never had sweets made by this gorgeous angel.

“Here we go!” she says happily, setting down the tray. She jumps up on the counter beside them, crossing her legs and grabbing a cake, holding it out to me as I approach her. I almost sit beside her, but I want to be closer. I push her legs apart, standing between them, enjoying the grin that covers her face as I position myself in front of her. I’m not close enough for her to feel the thickness in my pants, but I feel the heat coming off her. And boy is it hard not to press myself into her.

To distract myself, I take the cupcake, peeling away the wrapper before taking a huge bite. The flavors explode in my mouth, and I moan loudly. “Damn it, this is good.”

“Isn’t the fresh strawberry so good inside?”

I nod, basically drooling. “So good.”

She beams before taking a bite of her own. I’m breathless at the smile on her face. She’s so proud of herself, and I love it. I swallow my bite and ask, “Tell me five things I don’t know about you.”

She giggles. “What?”

“Come on, humor me.”

She thinks for a second and then says, “My first concert was One Direction, and I passed out because Harry Styles winked at me.”

I bring in my brows. “You’re a dork.”

“Oh, totally,” she laughs, and God, her laughter is infectious. “I hate spiders. I’m a daddy’s girl. I hate going to the movies because I have to wear real clothes and I’d rather be in my PJs, and I’m addicted to coffee.”

I laugh. “I didn’t expect the coffee part.”

“Oh yeah. Every morning. It’s an issue.”

“I knew the daddy’s girl part.”

“Really? I thought I hid that well.”

“Nope, not at all.”

“Okay, then…” She thinks for a second, tapping her chin as I devour my cupcake. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to live somewhere else. I’m not saying I want to leave Nashville, but sometimes, I imagine how it would be.”

I nod. “Where would you want to go?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I love New York and Paris, but I don’t think I’d want to live there. I enjoy California, but again, not somewhere I would want to settle. Sometimes I wonder if there is more for me out there, but then I have it so good here. Especially with me switching my career to cupcakes. I want to help Audrey and be there for her when she wants to go out of town with her family.”

“That’s interesting. Maybe you need to travel a bit?”

She shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s just something I think about every once in a while.”

“It’s a legit thought.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she agrees, taking a bite as I reach for another cupcake. “What about you. Five things.”

I scoff. “I should have expected this, huh?”

“Totally.”

I think for a second, taking a bite and moaning once more at the overwhelming flavor of the Nutella. There are hazelnuts throughout the cupcake, and man, it’s good. “You’re really talented, Stella.”

“Aw, thanks,” she gushes, grinning widely at me. “But I’m still waiting for my five things.”

“Man, I thought I could distract you. Maybe I need to kiss ya a bit?”

She presses her hand into my chest. “Five things, Wesley.”

I exhale hard, but I’m smiling. It’s weird. “Okay,” I draw out, thinking about what I’m comfortable sharing. “Um, well, I’ve broken seven bones throughout my life. My leg twice, my ankle, my wrist, shoulder, and both elbows.”

She grimaces. “Don’t forget your nose.”

“You’re right, eight. Thanks.” She laughs as I think some more, taking another bite. “I listen to the same playlist before every game and eat the same meal.”