I can’t sleep.

The rumors about me going to Boston are on this side of true. As in I’m seriously considering it again, but J.R. is forcing my hand. The man has signed Dean Clark. Even if I weren’t dating Ashley, I would view that move as a deal breaker.

I run a hand over her back, marveling at the soft, pale skin that glows in the moonlight. Unlike most redheads, she doesn’t have a single freckle on her.

Something I’m slightly disappointed about, because I would enjoy taking the time to connect the dots with my tongue. She sighs in her sleep, scooting closer to me. There’s a single strand of pearls wrapped around her wrist.

It’s my gift to her. The pearls are real, and so were the orgasms I gave her. And she’d given me ones right back.

I sit up, careful not to disturb her, then get up and make my way to my home office. Booting up my laptop, I switch on a light and then sit.

The email from the Pats practically glows neon yellow. Then green. I want to go. I want to say yes. Not only that, but I want to be honest with Ashley and share what I want with her.

According to Dean, the reason he broke up with her was because she refused to move. She refused to accept his lifestyle, and she’d wanted him to give it all up.

Although I don’t trust Dean as far as I can punt him, I know Ashley loves living here. She loves being near her family. Loves having Sunday dinners with them. She loves being able to pop over to her brother’s house for supper, and host book club for snotty women who finally come around to her way of thinking about romance novels.

I scrub my hand across my face.

There has to be truth in there somewhere. Ashley has never given the specifics about her relationship with Dean, but I know she was hurt. I know she loved Dean.

Does she love me?

Am I in love with her?

I exhale.

Those are the million-dollar questions keeping me up at night when I should be in bed with Ashley.

Gunner pads over, laying his big head on my knee.

“Hey, boy. What’s the matter?”

Gunner whines.

“I told you... no sleeping in the bed when Ashley’s here. There’s not enough room for everyone.”

Gunner blows air through his nose, as if to say women.

“Let’s go to bed, buddy.” I turn off my computer and the light, then move to my bedroom, Gunner hot on my heels.

When I climb in, I encounter a warm, wriggly bundle of dog. “Bluebelle,” I whisper-shout, but she pays me no mind.

“I don’t care, Ryan,” Ashley murmurs sleepily. “Tell Gunner to get in bed with us, too.”

Gunner doesn’t have to be told twice. He jumps on the bed, circles a spot three times, and then promptly falls on one side. Within seconds, the dogs are snoring, Ashley’s tugging on my arm, and I’m joining her, laying in the smallest amount of bed available.

“A hell of a life,” I mutter with a grin.

Next week, I’ll talk to Ashley about Boston, but first I have to make a little trip to the jeweler and make reservations at Mallory Grille—her favorite restaurant in Raleigh.

No matter what, she’ll believe me over anyone else, because she made a promise to me.