Power Play: The Nashville Assassins: Next Generation

by Aleo, Toni

  He laughs before kissing me again. I love how he smiles against my lips. How his nose touches mine and his beard tickles my jaw. When I pull back, he reaches for the syrup, drowning his waffle. I haven’t had real syrup in months, and I should be embarrassed by how much I put on my waffles, but Boon doesn’t seem to care about my sugar intake. Or his, for that matter. “Can I ask something?”

  “Yeah. What’s up?”

  “How old are you?”

  He runs his tongue along his teeth. “Why? Think I’m robbing the cradle?”

  I laugh. “No. If I remember correctly, you’re twenty-eight.”

  “Yes, you’re right. But you are also such a stalker, Posey Rose Adler.”

  I laugh, squeezing his leg. “Who’s the stalker? You know my middle name.”

  “Hey, I can google just as well as you can.”

  “Yes, we both can, Boon Zachariah Hoenes.”

  His eyes widen. “Super stalker.”

  “It’s in the personnel file,” I tease, and he laughs.

  “Jesus!”

  “I’m gonna call you Zach.”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t like it. Julia’s mom never called me Boon, only Zachariah. I think she thought my name was trailer-parkish.”

  I make a face. “It’s a strong name.”

  “I think so.”

  “Fine, I’ll call you my boo.”

  He splutters with laughter, and then we’re just grinning at each other for almost a full minute. When he leans in, sliding his hand up my thigh, I find I’m holding my breath. “So, how are we doing this?”

  I look up from where I am cutting one of my waffles. “What do you mean?”

  “Us.”

  “Us?”

  “Yes. Us. Me and you. We aren’t telling anyone, correct?”

  I press my lips together as I swallow nervously. “Correct. I think we should wait. Maybe after the season is over. I gotta figure out a way to tell my dad I’m dating.”

  He makes a face. “Huh?”

  I shake my head. “He has ‘daughters-dating-induced angina.’ It’s really annoying, and with Shelli getting married, he isn’t handling things well.”

  He laughs. “That’s funny.”

  “Sure, when you’re not on the receiving end of it. That’s probably another reason why guys never wanted to be with me. Everyone is terrified of my dad.”

  “Well, he is Shea Adler.”

  I roll my eyes. “Don’t get me wrong. I know this, but he’s amazing as all get-out.”

  “Yeah, he is—and scary. But don’t worry. Give me the green light, and I’ll face him.”

  I pause in the middle of putting a piece of bacon into my mouth. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “He could lose his temper and kick your ass.”

  He shrugs. “You’re worth it, lovely.” Okay. So, he’s coming guns blazing with some truth, huh? “Problem is, I don’t want to fuck up your career. I don’t want anyone to feel like you’re favoring me. You aren’t going to let up and just put me on the power play. I’ll have to work for it.”

  I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Exactly.”

  His lips quirk. “It’s cool. You school me on the ice, and I’ll school you in bed.”

  Now my lips are quirking. “I love the sound of that.”

  “Me too. But believe me, Posey, I am kissing the fuck out of you when we win the Cup. We will be on the ice, with the Cup above our heads, and the whole damn arena, team, parents, and more will see it.”

  My heart actually stops, restarts, and then does a jig. “Really?”

  “Yup,” he says confidently.

  “So, we’re together, then?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Yes, Posey. Come on.”

  I look at him seriously. “Most guys don’t want relationships.”

  “Well, this guy does,” he says, meeting my gaze. “I know a damn good girl when I see one. Well, I take that back because I chose Julia, and that was a huge mistake. But with you, no one—and I mean no one—can challenge me and shatter me in bed the way you do. I may suck on the power play, but I’m not an idiot.”

  Wow. “We’ll get you there.”

  “I know,” he says with a wink. “I’m not worried. I do hate that I’m off it, but I believe in you.”

  I blink, holding back the emotion that wants to explode out of me. “Same here. You got this.”

  He nods. “You do too, Posey. I know you think you’re not doing well, but you are. All the guys love you, but they don’t get to have you like I do. Suckers.”

  I giggle as I take a forkful of waffle. Boon is driving me insane with happiness. But something is bothering me. “Are you always like this?”

  “How so?”

  “Just so sweet and attentive. I thought Julia said you weren’t emotionally available.”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “I wasn’t, I guess. I don’t know. I feel like it’s different with you, and I want to try to be what you want.”

  “I don’t want you to be who you’re not.”

  He nods. “I couldn’t fake what I’m feeling.”

  “Oh.”

  “Wait, is it overwhelming? Do I need to scale back?”

  I shake my head. “Not at all. I’ve never had anyone treat me this way.”

  He reaches over, taking my face in his hand. “You deserve this. And more.”

  Boon runs his thumb along my lips, looking at me like I’m the game-winning goal.

  The way my dad looks at my mom.

  For the first time, I feel like I deserve this, like I’m enough. The feeling is out-of-this-world awesome.

  So awesome, I don’t know how I ever lived without it.

  * * *

  I chose to face my parents.

  I think it’s more important that I keep my professional image and deal with the stress of the intrusiveness my parents will provide. I still have on my skirt from last night, with Boon’s boxers underneath. He almost couldn’t let me leave in them. He told me it was too much to handle, knowing they were on me. I practically had to run out of his house before he attacked me. I’m still giggling a bit, thinking of the savage look on his gorgeous face. I have his North Face hoodie on too, when really, I wanted his Assassins one. Problem being, it has his number all over it, and that would be a huge giveaway to my parents.

  As I drive back to my house, I wonder what they would think of him for me. I know he’s older than me, but so is Aiden with Shelli. Aiden’s like six years older or something. Yes, Boon is seven, almost eight, since he has a birthday coming up, but surely that won’t matter. He’s wonderful. He’s so smart and talented and funny. Plus, Mom will love that he likes me for me. She always said she wanted me to find someone like that. Someone who would think I was perfect the way I am, just as my dad thinks about her. She may not seem like it now, but she had confidence issues in her early adult years. She’s always tried to help me not be like that, but unfortunately, she couldn’t fix that inside me. Not her fault. Maybe it’s genetics. I don’t know. But the one thing that helped her was she found a man who loved her unconditionally.

  I am in no way saying that is what is happening with Boon, but the possibility of it is nice to think about. With that thought, though, I worry I am glamorizing the situation the way I did with Maxim. I know Boon said we are in a relationship, but he is turning out to be a jealous man. He has reason to be, but what if he is only putting a label on us to keep me with him? It worries me. Then again, didn’t we say we wouldn’t do this?

  I reach for my phone, hitting his number. When he doesn’t answer, I go to hang up, but then he’s there. “Hey! Posey!”

  “I almost hung up. You all right?”

  “Yeah, my bad. I was in the shower.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t apologize. You good?”

  I turn onto my road. “Yup, I was just driving and thinking—”

  �
�Shit, that could be a bad thing.”

  I roll my eyes. “Hush, you,” I tease, and then I’m grinning. “But I was wondering something.”

  “Okay?”

  “Are you putting a label on us because you don’t want me to be with anyone else?”

  He pauses for a second. “I can see why you would think that, but that’s not my way of thinking. I could put a ring on your finger today, and if you wanted to leave me, you could.”

  “This is true.”

  “I put a label on us because I want you to know I’m serious. I’m not playing around. I don’t want you to think I don’t like you or question if I want to be with you. I do. I like you, Posey. A lot. And well, I want you to be mine. I don’t want you with anyone else. So I guess, yeah, maybe I did put a label on us for that reason, but I’m not a fucking-around kind of guy. I wanted to be after the way things went with Julia, but I’m not. I want to do this with you. Do you want to do it with me?”

  I swallow hard. “I do.”

  “That sounded really formal,” he teases, and I giggle softly. “I’m glad you called.”

  “Me too.” I pull into our driveway. “But I just got home, and I gotta haul ass to get ready. Can I call you after my meetings?”

  “You better.”

  I grin. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  “Oh, I don’t have to. You will.”

  My face hurts from grinning as I hang up and turn off my car. I tuck my phone into my pocket as I head up the driveway. It isn’t until I reach the side door that I notice Shelli is here.

  Fantastic.

  When I walk in, the noise assaults me. My brothers are playing PlayStation, and Shelli is at the table with Mom.

  With the Wedding Book from Hell.

  When I met the Wedding Book from Hell, I was fourteen. I stumbled across it when we were sharing a room because we had company, and I couldn’t find my lucky hockey socks. Pure fear shook me as I opened it and found all the things my sister wanted. There were cutouts, moving pieces, and glitter. All the fucking glitter. It wasn’t until I was in college watching Friends with my roommate that I realized my sister is a crazier version of Monica Geller. Monica’s wedding book had nothing—and I mean nothing—on the Wedding Book from Hell made by one Shelli Adler. My sister has been creating this book since she was eleven, and it’s terrifying.

  I fake a scream. “Ah! Put it away! Dad’s angina!”

  Mom flashes me a grin as Shelli glares. My dad is lying with his head on the table, clutching his wallet. He only does that when the book comes out. It’s quite dramatic, but all Adler-style.

  “Shut up, Posey.”

  I laugh. “Are we doing wedding scenario A, B, C, D, or E? Did we add an F?”

  “I hate you,” she sings in her angelic voice. “We’re doing D.”

  I lean on the bar, hoping no one notices I’m in yesterday’s clothes. “Ah, we cut the doves?”

  “Apparently Dad is worried about PETA.”

  I snort. “How unfortunate.”

  Mom shakes her head. “But it’s okay. The wedding will be glamorous, no matter what.”

  Shelli nods and, with jazz hands, says, “All the glitter.”

  Thank you, Broadway.

  “How about that guest list?” I ask, knowing it’s a touchy subject.

  “We’re down to…” Shelli whispers something, and Mom can’t help but laugh.

  “Sorry, I didn’t hear you?”

  “Seven hundred,” she mutters, but we all hear her this time.

  Dad groans, and of course, I giggle. Mom is beaming. She loves a good party. “It will be the wedding of the year. I’m sure of it. We can even have the Cup there!”

  She claps her hands together, and Dad groans again. “Do I have to buy insurance if we have that thing there? Can’t we just have a cutout?”

  “Hush, Shea,” she scolds, and I’m fighting back my laughter. “It’s our firstborn’s wedding. It has to be a big deal!”

  “And you’re obsessed with parties, and Shelli has that ridiculous book,” I offer, and Dad points at me, still with his head on the table.

  “What she said.”

  Now, both my sister and mother are glaring at me. “You’re wearing the brightest pink I can find, and I will douse you in glitter.”

  I make a face. “Well, that escalated quickly.”

  “And the highest heels we can find too,” Mom adds, and then they high-five.

  “Dad, help. They’re double-teaming me.”

  “Welcome to my life,” he moans, and I kinda feel for the guy.

  “Okay. Well, I gotta get ready,” I say, thinking I’m in the clear. I mean the Wedding Book from Hell is out; surely no one notices what I am wearing. But I forgot my mom does have eyes like a hawk.

  “Posey, honey, where did you stay last night?” she asks, not looking at me.

  I stop midstep and try not to give myself away. “With a friend.”

  Shelli tsks. “Well, is that a friend a man? ’Cause that’s a man’s sweatshirt.”

  If I kill her, I don’t think I could survive conjugal visits. I’m new to sex—I want it all, all the time.

  “I thought the same,” Mom adds, and when I turn, my dad is looking at me with wide eyes. His hand slowly slides up his chest, and I’m the one groaning.

  “This is my sweatshirt, thank you. And no, just a friend,” I throw back at her, and my dad goes to lay his head back down.

  Thank you.

  “Liar,” Shelli sings, and of course, my dad whips his head back to me.

  I am going to kill my sister.

  “I agree, but for shits and giggles, who is it?” my mom asks.

  I swallow hard. “You remember Andie? From college? She was in town. We stayed in a hotel.”

  Ha, look at me go.

  “Andie Maddox? Um, no. She’s in Paris.”

  Why, God, why? Stupid Instagram! “No, Andie Powell.”

  Oh, that sister of mine knows I’m lying through my teeth. Looking at my mom, I can tell she knows too. But Dad, he isn’t sure. His hand is at his chest, watching me.

  Mom clears her throat. “It’s okay if you were at a guy’s house, Posey. You are twenty-one, and you’ll need a date for the engagement party.”

  Dad jerks his head to Mom. “The hell it’s okay!”

  “She’s an adult, Shea.”

  “I don’t give a shit. She’s my baby!” He looks to me and asks, “You weren’t at a guy’s house, were you?”

  “No, Daddy,” I lie, and I hate lying to him. He’s my hero.

  “Oh good,” he says, and then he turns to stare at my mom. “What the hell? An engagement party? You’re killing me, guys. Killing me. If there is an engagement party, then the guest list will need to be at five hundred. I’m poor.”

  Shelli screeches in horror, and Mom follows suit before they start yelling at each other. The Wedding Book from Hell causes this kind of carnage. Devil book, it is. I feel Shelli staring at me, and when I meet her gaze, her eyes are playful. When she mouths Liar, I flip her the bird and hurry out of there before Mom and Dad stop arguing and come back to me. I don’t want to lie to my dad, but I also can’t admit I have something going on with Boon yet. I gotta make sure it’s truly real. I feel it is, but I don’t want to send my dad into an angina fit until I’m sure. So Boon and I will stay on the down-low, and I’ll start packing a bag.

  Because I’m pretty sure I’ll be staying with Boon more often than not.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Boon

  “So, I’m thinking I’ll come down the second week in March. Does that sound good?

  “Sounds great to me. I miss you.”

  “Aw, sweetheart, I miss you,” my mom gushes, and of course, I grin like a fool. I’m a momma’s boy through and through. I lean back in the driver’s seat in my car, stretching my legs. I have ten minutes before I have to be in the locker room for our morning skate. My bag is in the back for our twelve-day trip, and I’m all ready, which means maybe
I can talk Posey into lunch, depending on her schedule. We don’t leave until four this afternoon, but she said they may have more meetings today. Posey and I spent all night together. We went to a movie and then a late dinner. I took her back to my place, where we made love for hours. I tried to convince her to stay, but she couldn’t. She had to pack and didn’t want her parents asking more questions. I almost want to tell her parents we’re together just so I don’t have to see her leave.

  I hate that she has to, but man if I don’t love watching that ass sway in such a seductive way as she goes.

  “So, I met someone,” my mom says then, and I open my eyes. That was my line, my reason for calling. “Now, before you get all puffy, he’s a super-sweet guy. He’s been my bridge partner for a couple months—”

  “Wilbur?” I ask incredulously. “I thought you thought he was a dork?”

  She laughs softly. “He is, but he’s my dork. I love him, honey, and I really want you to meet him.”

  I make a face. “You love him? How did this happen?”

  “I don’t know. It was all so fast, and then we moved in together.”

  My jaw actually drops. “He’s living with you? I’m paying for some dude to live there? For free?”

  “No. I swear, he pays the rent. I haven’t even been cashing your checks, Boon.”

  I press my lips together. “You haven’t? Why not?”

  “Because he’s been paying the rent, so I’ve been putting them in the drawer.”

  “In the drawer?” I asked, confused. “Mom, that money is for you.”

  “I know, but I don’t—”

  “Cash the checks, Mom.”

  She hesitates. “Are you mad?”

  “Are you happy?”

  “I am. Really, I am. He is wonderful.”

  “Then, no,” I say simply. “I just want you to be happy, but cash the damn checks. That’s your money, and I’m going to continue to send them.”

  She pauses. “You don’t have to, sweetheart. Wilbur takes great care of me.”

  “I want to,” I reassure her. “You’re my mom, and you always took care of me.”