Dating the Defensive Back (The Nash Brothers Book 1)

The Tootsie Roll Connection

She’s full of surprises.

She thinks we can share a bed because we’re two grown adults who can handle themselves?

Maybe she hasn’t looked in a mirror today, but fuck.

What is it about jeans and a T-shirt on a woman that’s just…hot?

She’s casual, and something about that is even sexier than seeing her all dressed up for some other event. I’m more of a casual dude myself, unlike my eldest brother, who enjoys suits, and my youngest brother, whose preference leans toward velour and stupid shirts.

Her ass looks mighty grabbable in those tight as fuck jeans, and I’m impressed she thinks I can keep my hands to myself sharing a bed with her when I’m not even sure I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself sharing a suite at a baseball stadium.

Which is fine. I shouldn’t keep my hands to myself if we’re faking it the right way.

Except it’s starting to feel less and less fake and more and more real.

We arrive at the stadium and head toward the suite, and the party is already in full swing in there by the time we walk in. Buffet tables are filled with food, the bar is open, and my teammates are already having a good time.

I don’t walk in as tentatively as I should, given the fact that I’m the new guy.

I have this uncanny ability to make friends, and even though my brother is the coach of this team, I still think I can have friends here.

Luke and Ellie are standing near the door, and it feels good to see familiar faces immediately. Ellie hugs Ava, and she whispers something to her. Ava’s cheeks turn pink, and I can’t help but wonder what words were exchanged there.

“Heard your niece is coming any second,” Luke says.

“Yeah, Jolene was due a few days ago. I haven’t talked to Lincoln in a few days, but I imagine he won’t be here today,” I say.

“We’ll all kick his ass out of here if he shows up,” Luke says with a laugh, glancing at his wife. “If his own wife doesn’t take care of that herself.”

I chuckle. Jolene is definitely the perfect match for my rather stubborn brother.

I glance around the suite and spot Patrick—someone I’ve already bonded with because we play the same position and we’ve hung out at a bar a few times. Tristan and his wife are here, too, and so are Travis and his wife. I see Ben Olson and Jack Dalton along with their wives, and Austin is here, too—solo, talking with Declan, the punter. Our quarterback, Miles Hudson, is here, fresh off the IR, and our backup QB, Brandon Fletcher, is here, too, along with a few other guys I haven’t met yet, some older who appear to be coaches and others who might be players.

We head toward the bar first, and my hand grabs her small one—for the act, of course. Hers is chilly, and she flexes her fingers as they fold around mine. I tighten my grip around hers, and she glances up at me.

“What did Ellie say?” I ask.

She just smiles, lifts a shoulder, and orders herself a vodka cranberry. I order a Hendricks, naturally, and we head toward the box seats to enjoy our drinks and keep our eyes on the field as the home opener gets underway. I try to push away the unfamiliar feelings pulsing through my chest as I have the sudden need to hold her hand again.

What the fuck is that?

I’ve never cared about holding a woman’s hand, and somehow it’s all I can think about right now.

I finish my drink and grab a Tootsie Roll from my pocket just to keep my hands busy.

I open the wrapper, and I hear her mutter something as I pop the candy into my mouth.

“Huh?” I ask.

“You still eat those,” she says quietly. Her eyes are shining a little.

“Still?” I’ve been eating them my whole life, and I have no idea what she’s talking about, but she seems emotional about whatever link we share over the chewy chocolate candy.

She glances away from me and down to the field. She clears her throat. “My dad’s funeral. You were there, and you had a pocketful of them. You gave me one, and I came back around and you gave me another one. My brothers always made fun of you for eating them, and I’m sure Beck gave you hell for giving his baby sister candy. But I always loved them.”

“So have I,” I say quietly, not realizing we shared that connection.

To be honest, I rarely share my Tootsie Rolls with anyone. But I guess that day I saw a little kid who was hurting, and it was my way of making the day a little more bearable.

“And maybe because of you, they’ve always been my favorite candy,” she says softly.

I slip another one out of my pocket and hand it to her. I let my hand linger in hers when I press it to her palm, and she glances up. When our eyes meet, I see a little pain there, but I also see a little hope in them.

It might be the same sort of hope reflected back at her.

It’s a heavy moment, and I do the only thing I can think of.

I lean over and lower my lips to hers.

She sighs softly into me, and I pull back before I take it to another level—a level that wouldn’t be appropriate here in this suite with my teammates, my coaches, and my team owner.

Though I’m definitely not opposed to it, and the more time I spend with her on this date, the more I want…more.

Our eyes meet, and hers look confused.

She’s clearly wondering whether I just did that for show or if there was more to it.

And there was definitely more to it, but I’m not sure this is the time or place to admit that.

This is all so confusing. I want to be with her, but I can’t. I like her—a lot—but I promised her brother I’d take care of her.

How is kissing her at a Heat game taking care of her? How is it protecting her?

Every time we start to get close, I feel myself pumping the brakes.

But isn’t that always what I do? How do I make things different with her when she deserves so much more than what I can give her?

“Nice, you two,” a voice whispers from behind us, interrupting the rather intimate moment. I glance back and see Ellie, who clearly just saw me kiss her and obviously believes it’s all part of the act.

It wasn’t. And I’m torn between telling Ava the truth about that or not.

Maybe it’s better not to. I should play it safe. Protect her like I promised I would.

Ava unwraps the Tootsie Roll and pops it into her mouth, and she closes her eyes for a beat as she chews.

I shift in my seat as my cock throbs.

This is ridiculous.

I sigh, turn my attention to the field, and focus on the proverbial baseball as a way to get my raging boner to calm the fuck down.

But when I’m sitting next to Ava Maxwell and she’s moaning her delight over a fucking Tootsie Roll, there’s little chance that’s ever going to happen.

Note to self: buy more Tootsie Rolls. Stat.