Chapter 11 Desiree Dixon

I Left My Number

Ding-ding .

Was that a ding?

Where am I?

Two minutes pass, and I hear it again.

Ding-ding .

I roll over. The room is dark, but for the lights flashing in the window, and ohhh, right.

I’m in Asher Nash’s hotel room, asleep after he made me come.

Twice.

Oh, shit.

I hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

I glance at the clock, and it’s a little after two in the morning.

Asher is out. He’s breathing evenly, and the dinging of my text notification doesn’t appear to be bothering him in the slightest.

We drank a lot last night, and I might still be a little tipsy, but not in a bad way. Not in the I’m-gonna-lose-my-dinner-in-the-bushes kind of way, anyway.

I glance at the screen and see a text from my mom, which only presses on my guilty conscience more.

Mom: Would you mind grabbing some more Pepto on your way home? We’re all out, and Dad could use some more.

I sigh. The question presumes I’m coming home tonight, which I really should. I’m staying with them this weekend, and while I’m an adult certainly capable of making her own choices, I also don’t particularly want to have to explain myself to them by rolling in wearing the same outfit I wore to the ball last evening.

And I’m certainly not about to fill them in on the fact that I had the steamiest encounter of my life with one of my dad’s players.

I text her back.

Me: Of course. Be on my way soon.

Mom: You stay out if you’re having fun! Don’t want to ruin your good time.

I glance at Asher. As much as I don’t want to leave, it’s not like she’s ruining my good time. I should go anyway. Neither of us went into this night with expectations, and it’s probably better to leave without them, too.

Still, I don’t want to leave without at least saying goodbye.

I find my thong and dress, and once those are in place, I strap my stilettos back on, my feet begging me to leave them off.

I head over to the bed and study him, and I lean down and press a soft kiss to his temple.

“Asher?” I ask softly near his ear.

“Mm,” he murmurs, and he doesn’t open his eyes.

I shake his arm a little. “Asher?” I say a little more loudly.

He doesn’t move. His breaths are still even, and it would appear he’s a heavy sleeper.

“Asher!” I call, and…nada.

I sigh, not sure what to do for a minute, and then I lean over and give him a hug. “Thanks for a great night. I’ll never forget it.”

I walk over toward the desk and spot a pad of paper and a pen, and I leave a note behind, praying he’ll see it in the morning even though I hadn’t planned on leaving my number.

A-

Hope you enjoyed what was beneath the leaves. I know I liked that steel beneath the paisley. Had to run out, but I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.

-D

I leave my phone number on the bottom with the words call me , and I search around the room to try to find the right place to leave it so he’ll see it. Ultimately, I choose the nightstand where his phone is, study him one more time, and let myself out of his room.

I reserve a Lyft while I take the elevator down to the lobby, and I spot a twenty-four-hour gift shop on the way toward the exit. I swing in, grab some Pepto, and head outside, feeling like I’m leaving a piece of myself behind.

And maybe I am. Maybe he took a piece of me that I’ll never get back, or maybe I’ll see it again sometime down the road.

I get back to my parents’ house with the Pepto, and despite the late hour, my mom is awake and waiting for me.

“Dad’s been in the bathroom all night, so it’s not like I can sleep,” she says, rolling her eyes. If she notices that I’m a bit mussed up compared to how I was earlier, she doesn’t mention it. “Oh, did I win any of the auction bids?”

Oh, shit. I knew I forgot something.

I scramble to come up with something even though my brain is currently in sleep mode. “You know, I was chatting with someone when they announced it and totally missed hearing the winners. But I’m sure they’ll call you if you won. They won’t miss collecting payment, right?” I toss the shade off what I was really doing. I mean…we did chat at different times throughout the evening, so it’s not a lie.

She narrows her eyes at me. “Are you okay?”

I nod. “Just tired.”

“Did you have fun?”

“I had the best time. Really. I’m going to go head up to bed now. See you in the morning.”

As it turns out, it’s nearly afternoon by the time I force myself out of bed. I take a long, steamy shower to help awaken my aching muscles that were twisted and bent in ways I’m not used to, and I head downstairs.

I checked my phone the moment I woke up, but I didn’t have anything from him yet. Maybe he’s still sleeping, too. We really took it out of each other last night.

I roll my shoulders as I pad into the kitchen in sweatpants and a Storm T-shirt, and my dad is sitting at the table looking both tired and a little green.

“How’re you feeling?” I ask.

He nods to the plain toast in front of him. “Regretful that I didn’t look at what I was eating,” he admits.

I wrinkle my nose. “I’m sorry.”

“Did you have a fun time?”

I nod.

“Wish I could’ve been there.”

“How’s it going out here so far, Dad?” I ask.

He sips from a steaming cup of tea, and I stand and head over toward the Keurig for a cup of coffee. “I inherited an incredible offense, and I’m excited to get started building on their strengths to grab some Ws this season.”

We chat while it brews.

“I have no doubt you’ll grab a ton of Ws, Daddy.” When my coffee is ready, I take my cup of black coffee and sit beside my dad.

“That smells great.” He inclines his head toward my cup, and I shake my head at him.

“No way. Mom would kill me if I gave you coffee when you can barely get a piece of toast down. Where is Mom, by the way?”

“Sleeping. She was up all night for some reason.” He shrugs and widens his eyes innocently, and I laugh.

“You’re terrible.”

“Don’t I know it. How are you really doing in San Diego all by your lonesome?” He lifts his toast to take a bite, and he sets it back down without taking it.

“I’m not all by my lonesome,” I remind him.

“I know, I know. You have your friends, and they’re like family. I hate having you so far. I can’t keep an eye on you when you’re three hundred fifty miles away.” He offers a wry smile.

I refrain from mentioning that he also couldn’t keep an eye on me when we were in the same room. “I’m fine, Dad.” I nod toward his toast. “And you will be, too, you know. If you avoid the scallops.” I raise my brows pointedly, and he laughs.

My mom joins us shortly after, and I can’t stop thinking about my dad’s words that he can’t keep an eye on me.

I’ve enjoyed the freedom while he’s missed the protection, and I feel a little guilty about that. I still managed to have a good time last night even with my parents close, and Vegas doesn’t seem so bad, if I’m being honest.

I haven’t exactly gotten the full view of Vegas, but seeing the Strip from Asher’s hotel room pressed up against that window was pretty damn spectacular. It was also lovely in the background behind me when I was riding on top of him.

I want to see him again.

I check my phone.

No message.

Dammit. I wish we would’ve thought to trade numbers earlier, but we were too busy drinking and flirting and fucking for it to come up. But it’s not like I can ask my dad to procure me Asher Nash’s number, so in all honesty…the ball’s in his court.