Page 135 of Wildest Dreams

“Yeah,” I smile. “It’s yours. Always has been.”

Chapter 32

Tanner

Present day

Ash has been wearing that khaki cap all night.

No-one knows that it’s mine except for Hunter, and the second that she put it on this morning he was grinning at me from across the fire-pit. I held my palms in the air and smirked right back.

Now it’s nightfall, we just finished eating a batch of team-made tacos, and the guys – buzzed off a couple of sixers – are getting loud as hell. But I’ve tuned out of the conversation, only paying it the briefest attention when one of the guys talks to me directly, because I’m way too preoccupied with taking in the sight of my cap set low over Aisling’s pretty eyes.

Even though she said it fit her just right, I can tell that it’s too big for her – I mean, what else is new. But I’m obsessed with the sight of it. The shadow that it casts over her sultry vixen eyes makes those glances that she keeps throwing me look even darker, more dangerous. I’ve barely been able to look away from her for pretty much the past four hours.

I roll the can in my hands between my palms, setting my elbows on my knees while I give her another once-over across the fire.

Ash has got hiking boots on her feet, socks rolled down to her ankles, exposing her flawless golden legs. She changed out of her long pink sundress just before we ate, which means that she’s now wearing a matching soft grey lounge set – a fitted cami wrapped over her chest and a pair of shorts barely hitting her mid-thigh. And I am not fucking complaining. Add on the khaki cap sitting low over her eyes and I’ve had to restrain the hard-on in my jeans roughly every five minutes.

Now her fingers are twiddling with the small bag in her lap while she laughs at something Tristan just whispered to her. Because, yeah, that fucker is sat right next to her.

Her brother’s teammate Logan is on one side and Tristan is on the other, which I’ll admit is making my jaw twitch because they have no business breathing air with her. But I just let my quads hammer it out, my knees bouncing like crazy as I steal glances at Ash and wish that it was me making her laugh right now.

I crack the top off the can and drain half of it in one long pull. Then I get back to rolling the metal between my palms, unable to stop looking at her for longer than half a minute.

When she catches me looking I feel my chest lock and tighten, and I give her a quick jerk of my chin before dropping my eyes back to the dirt.

It’s only when Hunter shoves his elbow into my side that I glance up again, heat twisting in my abdomen when I see that there’s now an empty space beside her.

I flick my eyes over to Tristan who is currently scratching the back of his neck, eyes on his boots. It’s only when he glances up and offers me a cautious half-smile that I realise that he left Ash’s side so thatIcould take that place instead.

Tristan is a great guy. Like, one of my favourite teammates.

I’m on my feet in less than a second.

I practically break his wrist when we smack our hands together, a gratitude handshake that turns into a rough half-hug.

“You are so fuckin’ whipped,” he chuckles when we shove away from each other.

“Yeah,” I admit, raking a hand back through my hair, eyes on Aisling as she watches us from under the brim of my cap.

I clear my throat and give him a departing nod before making my way over to Aisling.

With the exception of the crackling orange fire, the night is pitch black, and filled with the loud laughter of our friends, everyone warm and beer-drunk.

After sparing a glance to the guys currently hollering at some game footage on Connell’s phone, I drop down next to Aisling, nestling my boot right up against hers. She squeezes her thighs together and I press my quad against her harder.

She looks up at me from under the cap, her head barely reaching the swell of my shoulder, and I hold the heated stare of her eyes while I splay my palm on her lower back.

“You tryna make me jealous?” I murmur gruffly. I jerk my chin in the direction that my new best friend Tristan just walked away in.

She flutters her lashes at me and teases, “Why, is it working?”

“Yeah,” I grunt immediately, pressing my palm against her more firmly. “Haven’t been able to take my eyes off of you all night. Especially when you’re wearing…” I trail off and let my eyes roam to the cap pulled low over her eyes. I give the brim a gentle nudge with my beer and feel my heart-rate pick up when she laughs quietly, a dimple popping in her cheek.

I drain another pull from my can and glance down at the baby pink bag that she’s still fiddling with in her lap.

It’s one of those small travel bags that chicks store miniature soap bottles and shit in, and for some reason I find myself really adamant to know what she’s got in there.

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