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“No.” My voice is firm as I shake my head. “No. If he wants to get in touch, he will.”
“So you told him your dad is the new OC, then?” Chloe asks.
“I mean, not exactly,” I admit. I tug on my bun again.
Chloe lets out a heavy sigh. “So you’re telling me if he was a typical man who didn’t spot the tiny detail like a note you left behind, he has no other way of getting in touch with you?”
I purse my lips.
Is she right?
Before I can answer, Lauren asks, “When are you going back to Vegas?”
I lift a shoulder. “No idea. I haven’t made plans to return, and honestly, I feel a little burned right now. Maybe when the season starts.”
“It’s June, babe. The season starts in early September. You’re telling me you’re going to wait three to four months to visit your parents again?”
“I waited that long the first time to make it out there. Time flies when work keeps you busy, you know? And you know summer is our busiest time. I was shocked Angelica gave me this past weekend off. I can’t take another one, especially not so soon.”
“Who said it has to be a weekend? It’s a short flight. Get your ass back out there,” Chloe goads.
She’s probably right, but the more someone tells me I should do something, the more I’m going to push back, and I blame my dad and the stubborn gene he bestowed upon his only daughter for that.
“We’ll see,” I finally say as a way to get them off my back.
I glance out the window at the darkened view of the ocean outside, my chest tight as I think about how it felt like so much more than a one-night stand.
It wasn’t, and I remind myself of the truth.
I’m a sand-and-sunshine kind of girl at heart. This is home, and while my parents are in Vegas now, my first time to their new city taught me everything I need to know about it.
I’m not cut out for Vegas.
Chapter 14: Asher Nash
What’s in Australia?
Minicamps are over, and the next thing on my calendar is training camp, which starts toward the end of July. Apart from a few engagements my publicist committed me to, I don’t have a whole lot going on for the next month.
And I certainly don’t want to spend it here in Vegas reminiscing about the woman who disappeared into thin air, nor do I want to spend it playing poker with my father every night.
I head into the training facility to talk to Lincoln on the Friday morning after the charity ball.
It’s my last chance to attempt to find her, and if it doesn’t pan out, then it was never meant to happen, and I need to get the fuck over it and move the fuck on.
His door is open, so I knock on his doorframe. When he glances up, his eyes focus on my shirt. He rolls his eyes.
“What?” I ask. I glance down at the neon lightning bolts.
“I’d invite you in, but I’m worried about electrocution.”
“Then don’t go out in a storm with metal in your hand, dickhead,” I say.
He flattens his lips at me. “Cut that shit out. What do you want?”
I walk in and plop into the chair on the other side of his desk. “Two things.”
He sighs. “One?”
