Dating the Defensive Back (The Nash Brothers Book 1)

This Is About to Get Complicated

We’re doing an appearance at a nightclub the next night with some of the other defensive players on the Aces, including Patrick Harris, Dave Redmayne, along with his wife Leah, and Evan Wilkinson and his wife Trudy, when a text from my brother comes through.

Beckett: Hey, just wanted to let you know I’m bringing the family out to Vegas next month for a summer vacation. Hope we can get together.

A summer vacation?

Beckett never takes vacations.

And having him here will mean Grayson and I might have to tone it down a little.

It’s been easy faking it for the media since we’re really not faking it at all. But when Beck comes out here…I can’t help but wonder if it’s the right time to tell him the truth.

Sure, he might be mad at first. But once he sees how good we are together, he’ll get it. He has to.

I sort of don’t want to bring it up with Grayson. Everything is going so well, and I’m worried it’s a wrench. But it’s a wrench we’ll have to deal with at some point, especially if we continue on the track we’re on.

I don’t let it dampen my good time tonight. Grayson and I can talk about it tomorrow. Instead, we’ve spent the night dancing, and he even took me to a dark corner booth where we made out a little. He reached under my dress and fingered me right there under the table with nobody around us any the wiser before we returned to the dance floor. Or maybe I’m drunk and delusional, but I’m at a point where I’m not sure I care.

I just want to be with him.

All the time.

Butterflies race through me every time our eyes meet, and I feel safe and protected when I’m in his arms.

It’s pure magic, and if my brother can’t see that, then maybe I don’t care.

Grayson will, though. He’s closer with my brother than I am, and the last thing he wants to do is upset him—or worse.

Grayson flashes his phone at me, and I see a text from my brother to him, too.

Beckett: I’m heading to Vegas with the family for summer vacation next month. Will you be able to show me the sights?

Interesting how he wants Grayson to show him the sights, and he just wants to see me.

It’s a clear signal that he still sees me as a little kid. He doesn’t see me as someone old enough or versed enough to show him the sights of Vegas.

And that’s fine. His best friend can show him.

But I’ll be there, too…probably telling Grayson where to take him since I’ve lived here seven years and Grayson’s barely lived here seven weeks.

“I got a similar text,” I yell in Grayson’s ear.

He drafts a text back and shows it to me.

Grayson: Of course. You’re all welcome to stay at my place. I have a pool, and we can kick back with beer like the good old days.

I widen my eyes at him. “You do realize this means that unless you’re ready to tell him the truth, I won’t be sleeping in your bed.”

He twists his lips as if he hadn’t really considered that.

Beckett: I’m more of a whiskey guy these days.

Grayson: Truth be told, I’m a gin guy.

Beckett: That sounds good, though. I’d rather have the girls at a house than a hotel anyway. We’ll be there June 13-17 on our way to Hawaii.

Grayson: Looking forward to seeing you.

“Do you want to tell him?” I ask before I lose my nerve. It’s definitely the vodka talking.

He shrugs, but he doesn’t answer, and then Patrick grabs him and pulls him up on stage with the deejay, and the moment is lost as he puts on his party hat and sets this crowd on fire.

That’s my man up there.

My man that my brother doesn’t think is my man.

Whew boy. This is about to get complicated.

We have more events lined up. We make more appearances. We have more sex. A lot more sex.

It’s almost daily now, sometimes multiple times a day, and somehow it gets better every time. He doesn’t have to go as slow as he used to since my body has made room for him, and he really knows how to work me until I’m wrung out and completely sated.

He invites me to the charity ball the Aces hold in mid-June each year, and I’m excited to attend a team event with him.

He also lets me know that my brother has secured tickets to the event since he’ll be in town, and he’s looking for a babysitter to watch the girls so he can take his wife to the ball.

Since I cut back my hours at the bakery and Grayson asked me to bake for his teammates, I make some fruit and nut bars before his organized team activities, or OTAs, at the end of the month. He pays me handsomely for them, and I have to admit, I’m building up my savings rather quickly without rent to pay.

I still have a lot of stuff at the house with Kelly, and I stop by often to check in with her. She has continued talking to Austin, but she’s taking things slow, and I’m not sure how serious either one of them is. For now, they seem to be having fun, and if she’s happy, I’m happy.

He’s gone three days a week the last week of May and the first week of June with OTAs, and the second week of June finds him at mandatory minicamp for three days. I make something for him to bring for his teammates each day, from cookies to protein muffins to banana bread.

Either he’s a great liar, or they love everything I’m sending in. He comes home with empty trays and begs me to send in more. He said it’s helping him bond with his teammates, and they’re looking forward to what he’s going to bring in next every day.

And I know he’s not lying when I get a call from his brother Lincoln one afternoon.

“Hello?” I say when I see the unknown Nevada number on my screen.

“Ava, hello, it’s Lincoln Nash.”

I’m not sure why hearing him call me sends a pulse of fear through me. He’s at OTAs with Grayson, and suddenly I’m nervous he got hurt or sick or…something.

Fear climbs up my spine as I say, “Hey, Lincoln. Everything okay?”

“Everything’s great. I’m calling because I just put together that the delicious treats my brother has been bringing to OTAs are from the same woman who made those fantastic kitchen sink cookies we featured on our podcast not terribly long ago. I was wondering if I could contract you to make some pastries for our annual charity event coming up.”

“Of course. I can put you in touch with Poppy, the bakery owner,” I say.

“No, Ava. I don’t want the bakery. I want you. Grayson told me those were your cookies. You have a real talent, and I want Ava Maxwell’s pastries. Not Cravings’.”

“Oh,” I gasp, a little shocked. I glance around the kitchen where I’m standing. A million ideas plow through my mind. Petit fours, mini souffles, truffles, and tortes. Oh! Mini cheesecakes!

It’s the opportunity of a lifetime. This could really get my name out there in the community. My name. Not Poppy’s. Not some other bakery. Me.

I could handle it here, but it would be easier to do it at the bakery where we already have the equipment I’d need.

I shake my head as I realize I haven’t actually answered his question, and silence is spanning between us and I need to say something.

“I’d love to, Lincoln,” I say, forcing myself to stay calm. “Thank you so much for thinking of me.”

“Great. I’ll have our charitable contributions director get in touch with you with quantities and that sort of thing, but I think this is going to be a really great fit.”

“So do I.” We hang up, and I twirl around Grayson’s kitchen.

Holy shit!

Things are really starting to fall into place, and I could not be more excited.

Everything’s coming up Ava. I refuse to believe that I can’t have it all.