The Pool Boy (Nashville Neighborhood Book 2)

by Nikki Sloane

  Whatever face I’d made, it was enough confirmation for Colin. His friendly demeanor snapped back into place. “You live next door to Preston Lowe.”

  “Yes.” Relief washed through me in a wave. Colin looked familiar because I had seen him before. Every summer, he spent tons of time hanging out in Dr. Lowe’s pool with Preston and Troy.

  I returned his easy smile. “I’m also Troy’s manager.”

  “Yup.”

  Was I imagining the knowing look in Colin’s eyes? He gazed back like he was in on some private joke with me. It made my mouth go dry.

  He knew.

  “Right.” I tried not to sound flustered. “How much longer is the class?”

  He glanced down at his smartwatch. “Just another minute or two. Is it important? You want me to go get him?”

  “No, no, it’s fine.”

  My focus drifted back to the man on the other side of the glass. He rested his hands on his hips, flaunting his powerfully toned arms, and I was struck by how much had changed for me in such a short time. It wasn’t a lifetime ago when I’d hidden behind the curtains in my living room, watching him through the window as he cleaned my pool—but it felt like it.

  And now as I stared at him, I was filled with so much more than basic lust.

  I longed for him.

  Longed for his voice, his laugh, his kiss. For his fingers to pluck the strings of his guitar and touch me in the places that lit up my body. For years, I hadn’t thought about Troy, and now time made up for it.

  He was all I could think about.

  He must have sensed my gaze on him, because as he took off the microphone headset, he glanced in my direction and did a double-take. I hadn’t texted him I was coming, so he wasn’t expecting to see me here, standing in the lobby beside his friend and coworker. But he looked thrilled with the surprise and had no shame as he grinned back flirtatiously. It flooded me with so much heat I had to look away.

  Unfortunately, that meant my attention landed on Colin, who’d witnessed the whole thing, and wore a smug smile. “I guess I don’t need to get him for you.”

  Because Troy was moving swiftly across the mat toward the glass door to the lobby. I swallowed thickly as he pulled it open and came over, close enough that he could touch me, only just stopping himself from doing so.

  “Hey.” He was so pleased to see me. “What are you doing here?”

  “Stella made her pick.” Anxiety twisted my stomach. “I asked Ardy if I could tell you before it’s announced.”

  Troy turned to stone, and his bright smile died until it hung awkwardly on his face. “Oh.”

  I’d been numb on the drive over to his gym, unable to process. My voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s you, Troy.”

  He blinked. Like me when I’d been told, he went numb from shock. “What?”

  “She picked you.”

  His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something, but it was like he’d forgotten how to speak. Finally, the question tumbled out. “Are you shitting me?”

  It was hard to catch my breath, like I was running too fast down a steep hill. It was exhilarating and scary. “Nope.” I gulped down air. “Congratulations.”

  The excitement spread like wildfire inside us both, and maybe it was why I hadn’t been able to process the news until this moment. I’d wanted so badly for this to happen for him, the joy was shared. It became ours.

  I’d needed to be with him as soon as I’d learned he’d gotten it.

  Our smiles grew into stunned laughs, and abruptly I was crushed by his warm arms, pulled into a hug that made me want to melt. That was why I allowed it to go on so long, even as a warning alarm blared in my head about how unprofessional it looked.

  “Okay,” I breathed, putting my hands on his chest to ease him back, although I was dying to stay right as we’d been.

  “Sorry.” He dropped the embrace and straightened, but he didn’t sound sorry. His eyes were wild and dazzling. “What are you doing right now? Let’s go somewhere to celebrate.”

  I knew exactly what he was insinuating. He wanted to go where we could talk and act freely, and I was desperate for it—but we couldn’t. My heart was racing, but I smoothed my hands down the sides of my slacks to try to even myself out. I needed to return to the manager I was supposed to be.

  “I wish I could, but I’ve got a lunch meeting across town.” Could he see how much I longed to connect? I was a bomb of emotions, primed to explode, but I forced it down. “The announcement’s going out at five p.m. Eastern, so any time after four o’clock today, you can start talking about it, either online or in person. I’ll email you a copy of the press release when I have it.”

  He nodded, but his focus wasn’t on my face. Instead, his gaze was pinned over my shoulder, looking at whatever was behind me.

  “There are also a few old Facebook posts of yours,” I continued, “that Warbler’s marketing team flagged for removal, so I . . .”

  Was he listening?

  Abruptly, his gaze flew back to me and his voice was urgent. “Come with me, just for a second.”

  “What?”

  He put his hand on the small of my back and guided me toward the hallway branching off the lobby. The first open door he found was what he’d been looking for, and as soon as he had us inside the small room, he shut the door and locked it.

  It wasn’t much bigger than a bathroom stall. There was a full-length mirror on the back wall, along with hooks, and a bench seat on one side. My gym had similar rooms for clients who came straight from the office and wanted to change into their workout clothes.

  But I didn’t get much of a chance to look at anything because Troy spun me around and flattened my back against the cold mirror. His hands captured my face and tilted it up so he could deliver a deep, blistering kiss. Tingles burst across my skin as his mouth moved over mine. It was passionate and uninhibited. So powerful, I sagged against the glass, sinking under the weight of his kiss.

  This wasn’t the kiss of a man who desired me physically. It said he wanted . . . more.

  So much more.

  Whenever I heard new music in my head, it was usually just fragments. Like a few fingers absentmindedly touching the keys of a piano. The melody in my mind now? It was strong and confident and nearly complete. It played in a beautiful, endless loop as Troy’s lips made wordless pleas and promises about our future.

  Oh, God, I was drowning in this man.

  How had I let this happen?

  When the kiss ended, he tipped his forehead to mine and closed his eyes. “Okay, that’s better. I needed that.”

  “Me too,” I whispered.

  It was like I’d told him he was opening for Stella all over again, he looked that happy. His eyes burst open and searched mine to make sure he’d heard me right. I adjusted on my heels, which continued to prove they were lucky, straightening against the mirror.

  “Let’s go out tomorrow night,” he said.

  My heart skipped. “Like a date?”

  He laughed softly. “Yeah, a date. You are my girlfriend, Erika.”

  Part of me wanted this fiercely, but . . . “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “Nashville’s a huge town.” His expression said he thought I was being overly cautious. “We’ll be fine. No one’s going to know.”

  “You mean, besides Colin?”

  Confusion made him pull his shoulders back. “What?”

  “You told him we’re dating.”

  Troy’s expression filled with alarm. “I didn’t.”

  Annoyance moved through me and I put a hand on my hip. “Okay, then you told him we’re fucking, because he obviously knows.”

  He looked like he was about to defend himself until the realization slammed into him. He wiped a hand over his mouth and grumbled it under his breath. “Fucking Preston.”

  Seriously? I sighed. “You told Preston too?”

  “No,” he said quickly. Then, he thought better of his answer. “Well, kind of?
It wasn’t hard for him to figure out. My Jeep was in your driveway all night.”

  My irritation dissipated. “Oh.”

  “I asked him not to tell anyone, but I guess he couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut.” He glared off, perhaps planning the next conversation he was going to have with his friend, but then Troy’s focus swung back to me. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to them both, and Colin will be cool. He knows how to keep shit on the down-low.” He looked remorseful. “Sorry about that.”

  It wasn’t his fault, and really . . . was it that bad if his friends knew? Other than it made me envious? As long as they stayed quiet a little longer, it’d be all right. Troy and I needed to deal with the balance of work and our relationship, plus telling Jenna and Bill, but I had an idea for that.

  “It’s okay.” I gave him a sweet smile. “And I’m sorry I can’t stay to celebrate, but I have to get going.”

  He nodded in understanding, unlocked the door, and held it open for me. “Thanks for coming.”

  “I didn’t want you to be on pins and needles all day,” I said. “Plus, when I found out, I couldn’t wait to tell you.”

  His grin was devious. “Still on pins and needles though. You didn’t say yes about tomorrow night.”

  I laughed, strangely shy and tucked my hair behind my ear as I walked out of the changing room. Thankfully, the hall was empty. I turned and looked at him, marveling that this gorgeous man wanted to take me out.

  “Yes,” I said.

  His chest lifted as he took in a breath. “Cool. See you then.”

  My pumps clicked against the tile as I strode toward the exit, but I only made it a few steps before Troy’s voice rang out.

  “Hey . . . I forgot to tell you. I really like your shoes.”

  I glanced back at him over my shoulder. “Thanks.” I grinned. “They’re my lucky heels.”

  He smiled back at me.

  The sun was glaring outside, and I dug inside my purse for my sunglasses as I walked across the parking lot toward my car. By the time I was seated inside it, my phone buzzed with a text message.

  Troy: You wore them for good luck for me?

  Me: For us.

  I’d tried on three different tops before reaching for the black silk one with lace trim along the neckline. It had been cute and flirty before my breast augmentation, but with its deep V, I had cleavage for days and transformed into a bombshell. I’d avoided trying it on for my date, even though I knew I’d wear it. I’d needed to see the other tops first to justify it was the right choice. Or to work up the courage.

  I had the silk shirt halfway on, my head through the neck hole, when my phone rang. It was Jenna, wanting to know if I was interested in joining her and Bill for dinner. Which I appreciated, but also found odd. They wanted me to be their third wheel?

  “Oh, thanks,” I said, “but I have plans.”

  Plans that include your son.

  “It’s just dinner,” she said lightly. “Come on. You can do whatever work thing you have after.”

  I couldn’t fault her for assuming my plans were work since it was all I’d done until the divorce was finalized. “I appreciate the offer, but—”

  “Bill’s cousin is joining us, and I thought it’d be fun if we all got together. He’s a nice guy.”

  I paused. “Like a double-date?”

  “Yeah.” My friend’s voice was bright and excited. “I think you’ll like him, and if not—no big deal. He’ll be good practice as you get back out there. Plus, he’s really funny.”

  Her desire to set me up came from a good place. She just wanted to see me happy, but a voice in the back of my mind whined that she was doing the same thing to me that she did to Troy. She made decisions without consulting anyone else.

  “Sorry, but I can’t,” I said.

  There was a sigh of frustration on the other end of the line, and I clenched a hand into a fist. She thought she knew what was best for me. Or at least, better than I did.

  “I can’t,” I snapped, “because I already have a date tonight.”

  There was stunned silence for a long moment before Jenna spoke, and when she did, I pictured my friend bouncing with excitement on her feet. “You do? With who? How’d you two meet?” Her mouth couldn’t keep up with her brain. “Oh, my God, spill.”

  I closed my eyes. “Uh, I’d prefer not to say.” That wasn’t going to do anything to satisfy her curiosity, so I gave her a bent version of the truth. “It’s our first date, and . . . well, we work together, so we’re not telling anyone about it just yet.”

  “Oh.” She said it like I was being scandalous, which . . . she was not wrong. “Okay, at least give me something to chew on. Is he good looking?”

  Oh no. “Um . . . extremely.”

  “Been married before? Does he have kids?”

  She had no idea, but her questions stung. She was imagining a man much older than Troy. One who was more ‘age-appropriate.’

  I did my best to keep my tone even. “No, and no kids.”

  “All right, one more question and then I’ll stop.” Her voice went serious. “Please tell me you’re going to wear that black top tonight. You know the one. Your boobs look amazing in it.”

  My mouth went dry. “That’s not a question.”

  “You’re right.” She laughed. “Are you going to wear it?”

  There was no power in my voice. “Yeah.”

  “Good, show the girls off. You paid for them.” I could hear the smile in her words. “He’ll think he died and went to heaven when he sees you.”

  Too bad I was going to hell.

  NINETEEN

  Erika

  Jenna had been correct. When Troy came to pick me up, his tongue nearly fell out of his mouth. His gaze had started at my leopard print sandals, worked up my skinny jeans, and came to a screeching halt at the center of my chest. It took him time to restart his brain, and finally his gaze lifted to meet mine.

  “Maybe we could stay here,” he suggested.

  I laughed and shook my head. “No way. This was your idea and I want to celebrate.”

  When he scrambled to open the door to his Jeep for me, I had nervous flutters in my stomach, but they were the good kind. Yes, I hadn’t been on a date in two decades, but it’d be like riding a bicycle, right? Plus, it was silly to be anxious. We’d slept together a bunch of times.

  “You okay?” he asked as he climbed into the driver’s seat and buckled his seatbelt.

  “Yeah, why?”

  He smiled, curious. “You look nervous.” His eyes widened a degree, like he’d made a mistake. “I mean, you look amazing.”

  “Thanks. You too.” Fuck, I was nervous, but he didn’t have to know that. I shot him an exaggerated, hard look. “I’m nervous you might not put out,” I deadpanned. “You’re a sure thing tonight, right?”

  A surprised laugh burst from him. “Oh, yes, ma’am.”

  My gaze trailed over the interior of his Jeep, which was spotless, as he started the engine. Of course his car was perfect. It didn’t matter how messy a guy could be at home—in my experience, they always took care of their car.

  Troy drove to a restaurant in Brentwood, a suburb on the far side of the city where the chances of running into anyone we knew were nonexistent. Not that it mattered if we did. I could always say it was a work dinner. Plus, we were celebrating his big break.

  Conversation flowed so easily during dinner. We laughed as the server carded us when ordering drinks, although I had no idea if she’d done it because Troy looked young and she carded me because she was being polite.

  We talked about the first concerts we’d ever been to. The best and worst experiences we’d had when performing. Favorite song to sing.

  “Easy.” Troy set down his nearly empty pint of beer. “‘Power.’”

  It was a Saturday night and the restaurant was bustling, but the sound faded away. I gave him a dubious look. “All the songs in the world, and you’re picking that one?”

 
; “You wrote it,” he said simply. “And you wrote it for me.”

  “I did.” I licked my lips to stop myself from mentioning I wrote it about the way I felt about him.

  “Can we talk business for a second?” He leaned forward, and his eyes turned serious. “I want ‘Power’ to be my closing song when I perform. Is that okay with you?”

  Breath caught in my lungs. He was only allowed three songs in his set, because Stella already had an opening act she was touring with.

  “We’d need to get Ardy and Stella to—”

  “Yeah, I know. What I’m asking,” he said, “is if everyone else signs off on it, will you?”

  Didn’t he know this question was silly? That he didn’t even need to ask? “Yes.” I smiled. “If you want to sing it—I’d be honored.”

  Our phones were face down on the table, and when it vibrated, we both flipped ours over. He glanced at my screen and saw the name Clark at the top. To his credit, Troy attempted not to react, but I could see how irritated he was.

  I sucked in a breath. “Okay, so you’re a young’un . . . How do I block a number?”

  Relief swept through him and was quickly replaced by a victorious smile.

  I spent Sunday recovering from the marathon sex I’d had with Troy and dodging Jenna’s questions about how my date had gone.

  “Great,” was all I said.

  By Monday I was back to being consumed by my job. There were fall festivals I was trying to get two of my clients booked into, a debut album launch for a singer-songwriting duo I’d signed in January, and an international tour of a bluegrass band on my list to help set up.

  On top of all that, on Tuesday there was a contract sitting on my desk which had come over from Warbler’s legal attorney. I spent my lunch break reviewing it, and the packaging Warbler was putting together for Troy’s set. He’d sat for headshots this morning and texted me that it went well.

  I left the office a little before five, grabbed the mail from my mailbox when I got home, and sorted it as I walked toward the house. My footsteps slowed as I tore open the envelope with my homeowner’s association logo in the corner, dreading its contents before even reading the letter. Ever since Judy Maligner, my neighbor two doors down, had been elected president, the HOA had become a headache to deal with.