I feel a little bold, so I make the next question count. “Are you going to kiss me, or do I have to make the first move?”
Nash doesn’t answer with words. His lips crush mine, soft and a little bruising. He keeps me where he wants me, with one hand on the side of my neck.
My whole body responds to his kiss. Heat washes over me with every brush of his tongue against mine, and I gasp when he nips my bottom lip.
The noise of an incoming text message causes him to break the kiss with a groan. “Who the fuck is cockblocking me now?” He complains against my lips.
“Ignore it.” I sound a little breathless.
“That’s exactly what I’m planning to do, Trouble.”
But Nash’s phone pings again and again.
“There had better be a fire somewhere.” He takes his phone out of his pocket with an eye roll. “I’m sorry, let me check what’s going on. Jesus.”
“What’s up?” I ask when he frowns.
Nash shows me his phone. “We’re playing against UCLA in the first game of that mini tournament. Coach had someone going to scout their training camp. He’s got some game tape we want us to view. Right this second. He’s calling a team meeting in fifteen minutes in the auditorium.”
I might have been in town for barely a couple of weeks, but even I know Coach Harrison isn’t someone you can say no to.
“I hate to do this.” Nash is already rising from the bench. “But I really have to run. Text you later?” He gives my lips one last, hurried peck before grabbing the box with his dinner.
I nod, but he’s already running toward the main building, beyond the serene trees and vegetation that surround this part of the training grounds.
His ass is absolutely spectacular, sculpted by years of skating and conditioning in the gym.
Once Nash is out of sight, I open my box of food. My dinner has gone cold, but I’m a little bit of a freak when it comes to mashed potatoes. I love them hot or cold. And thankfully, the gravy was served in a separate pot, because I draw a line at cold, congealed gravy.
I think about Jodie and her sad, plain chicken breast. Maybe if we put in some extra training, she’ll feel better about eating what she wants. And we’re learning two or three newdance routines each day, so there’s never a shortage of stuff to rehearse. I pull my phone out and shoot her a text, asking her if she wants to use one of the small training studios and run through the routines we learned so far.
When she agrees, I rise from my spot in this idyllic little garden and start making my way toward the main building.
My mind can’t help but wander to Colsen, Tucker, and Nash. Am I biting off way more than I can chew? Is Nash right that seeing all three of them is going to end in disaster?
Right about now, just the idea of choosing one of them makes me hyperventilate.
I like each of them way too much to let them go. Colsen, reserved and doting but hot and skilled in bed. He’s understanding, easy to talk to, and made me feel safe from the second we met.
Tucker, goofy and sweet, and incredibly giving. I love talking to him. Tucker is surprisingly mature and insightful when you scratch beneath that first patina of frat boy prankster. The hot goalie made my pleasure his own personal mission during our first and only date. And I’m equally excited and scared at the idea of taking that next step with him. His dick is big enough to verge on the scary side of the spectrum.
Then there’s Nash. Tall, dark and handsome and brooding. His fiery personality translates into hot, passionate kisses and a sexy intensity that keeps me wanting more. Our chemistry is undeniable. He didn’t try to hide his possessive streak; but while attractive, that side of him could also prove to be the reason we won’t work out.
The truth is that I have no idea how I’ll be able to walk away from two of these amazing men.
Guilt rears its ugly head when I also think about the reason Jodie and I ended up here in Star Cove. We got rid of everything that could have tied me to the crime scene in Tim’s room. Or atleast I think we did. A part of me hopes the police will get a break and find who did this. Because that would mean that I wouldn’t have to keep lying to the three men who are very rapidly starting to mean everything to me.
I exhale a deep breath as the main building comes into view, and my pocket buzzes with an incoming message.
I check my screen, excited that it might be Nash or Jodie bailing on the extra training. But it’s neither of them; it’s an unknown number.
Unknown: I know what you did this summer.
I blink a couple of times, reading it over and over again. What do they mean? There’s only one thing they could be talking about, right?
My head swivels from left to right, looking around me to see who could have texted me. But it’s stupid. Whoever sent this text could be anywhere.
But there’s no way anyone could know, right? My first instinct is to go tell Jodie, but I immediately reconsider. If I tell her, she’s gonna freak out. Maybe this is just a mistake. Someone who got the wrong number. It must be. Because if anyone knew I woke up next to Tim after he was murdered, I would have heard from the cops by now.
