Dating the Defensive Back (The Nash Brothers Book 1)

A Girl’s Gotta Eat

The two weeks pass by quickly. Despite having cut my hours, I’m spending more time at the bakery, and my personal calendar has filled with the projects Grayson’s teammates keep sending my way.

I’m burning the candle at both ends.

I’ve started taking Sundays off so I can watch Grayson play, whether I’m in person at the stadium because they’re playing in Vegas and he sent me yet another jersey to wear, or I’m at home watching from the comfort of my couch with my slippers on.

And when I watch, I feel this strange sense of ownership over him. That’s my guy.

He is. Except…he’s not.

When Friday rolls around, Beck texts me that their plane landed. My mom brought her boyfriend, and they’re both going to be staying with me, and it all just feels so weird.

But if she’s happy, if she’s out of the fog that’s lasted since my dad died, then I’m happy for her.

Beck rented a car, and my doorbell rings about an hour after I received his text.

My brother stands in front of the group, looking clean-cut as always, and I glance beyond him while I hug him first.

My mom looks…different. Cleaned up or something. She’s wearing a dress, and her hair is dark when it was always platinum. She’s wearing makeup, and the deep bags that were under her eyes for so long seem to have lifted. She looks like she has joy inside her again, and this woman reminds me of the woman I knew when I was six or seven. She looks like the kind of mom I would have loved to have had when I was a teenager and needed my mom.

My eyes flick to the man she brought with her. He’s tall and handsome, and he’s wearing a suit. They look like a power couple in town on business, and somehow…it suits her.

“Mom,” I say, and she squeezes me tightly. She holds on a few extra beats, and she smells exactly like I remember her smelling. “It’s so good to see you. You look great.”

“I can’t believe this is the first time I’ve been out to Vegas to visit you since you moved here,” she says softly.

“Eight years now,” I say. “Better late than never, right?” It’s something my dad used to say to us all the time.

I still remember it in his voice when I think hard enough.

She presses her lips together and tilts her head, a secret acknowledgment of his words, and then she looks at the man standing beside her. “This is Thomas,” she says. “Thomas, my beautiful and talented daughter, Ava.”

“Pleasure,” Thomas says as he shakes my hand.

Weirdly, he doesn’t remind me of my dad in any way, but I still like that he’s here. I like that he’s perhaps the vehicle that helped my mom feel like she could enjoy life again.

“Come on in,” I tell them. I show them to the guest room—which happens to be Kelly’s old room—and leave to let them get settled in while I meet Beck in the kitchen.

“You okay with dinner tonight?” he asks.

“A girl’s gotta eat,” I say, and he shakes his head.

“Are you okay with Grayson being there, I mean.”

“Oh, uh…yeah. Of course.” Of course I can handle a meal with Grayson. I love him.

And that’s the whole problem. I’ve been so skittish to jump back in that I’ve been content with seeing him on Sundays at his home games, talking to him during the week, and staying far, far away so I don’t fall into that body-betraying syndrome where I’m so attracted to him that I can’t help but get naked and jump on top of him.

Not that I haven’t thought about it. Especially late at night when I’m home all alone with just my vibrator.

“Great. We have reservations tonight at Prime Cellar. Eight o’clock. Can you get Mom and Thomas there?”

I nod. “I sure can,” I say, and my tone is a little too bright.

It’s fine. I can eat a meal with my ex, whom I still love, and his best friend, who is also my brother, plus my mom and her new boyfriend. No problem. It won’t be awkward at all.

And since I’m the driver, I won’t even get to drink.

Cue all the self-pity.

As it turns out, Thomas says he’ll spring for a car so we can all partake in a glass of wine. Instead of wine, however, I plan to partake in some vodka.

Stat.

Grayson isn’t there yet when we arrive, and lucky me…Beck leaves the seat between us open, which means the very second the man walks close enough, I can smell his familiar woodsy scent.

Just like the first time, it still does things to me.

“Mrs. Maxwell,” he says, greeting my mother. “It’s been far too many years. How have you been?”

“Much better than I once was,” she says with a smile as she hugs Grayson.

Ugh. Why does it have to feel like he’s already part of the family?

Why do I feel like I want him to reach over and slide his hand along my thigh?

Why do I wish I never gave him up?

He hurt me, yes. But we all make mistakes. Even me.

And I think it’s a mistake that we haven’t fixed this yet.

I haven’t shared a meal with him in months. It’s been easy to pretend it’s nothing when I’m at work and he’s at work, and we haven’t been in this close proximity except when he runs over to greet me on game day. Somehow he’s sent me two tickets every single week for the same front row seats, and he always has a backup jersey to pass over to me just in case I don’t show up in the one he leaves on my counter.

It’s these little things that mean so much, but it’s the big things that really matter.

Dinner turns out to be less awkward than I had anticipated. Thomas seems to be a really great guy, and between having him and Grayson at the same table, it’s like some sort of intense battle of charisma for who can carry the conversation the most.

I think maybe Grayson is winning, but then Thomas starts in with another story that has us all laughing. Thomas is long retired, but he worked in education his whole career. He’s a former high school principal and has eight grandchildren of his own—all of which my mom, who just has two, has met.

His whole family resides in New York, and his kids attended the rival high school to my own. I vaguely recall playing volleyball against a girl who I think might be his daughter. As I recall, she was aggressive and mean as a teenager…but I’m sure she’s nice now.

Once that revelation came out, I couldn’t help but think what a small world it is. Who would’ve ever guessed that my mom would end up with a guy like this when she seemed so vehemently against any sort of relationship after we lost my dad?

It’s kind of a lovely thing to see, and it’s also kind of pulsing this different feeling in me. It’s a reminder that life is short and unexpected things can happen. Do we really want to waste time when we’re not guaranteed tomorrow? I think I finally have my answer to that, and I want to talk to Grayson alone.

I want to tell him how I’m feeling. I want him to know that I never stopped loving him.

I don’t get a chance to, though.

“Sorry to cut out early, but we have early practice in the morning. I need to get home and get my solid eight.”

Beck stands to give him one of those bro backslaps. “What a great dinner, man.”

“It really was,” Grayson says, and he glances over at me. He seems to say something with his eyes, but I’m not entirely sure what he’s trying to say. He presses his lips together into a sort of apologetic smile. “Good seeing you, Ava.”

I stand, and he gives me a hug. The way his arms wrap around me is more than just a friendly hug goodbye.

His lips find my jawline—not quite my cheek, not quite my neck—and he gives me a short, quick kiss before he backs away. It’s too short. Too quick. I want more. I want it all. With him.

But it’s not in the cards tonight. I’ve waited this long. I can wait a little longer.

“We’ll be at your game Sunday, and are we still on for lunch Monday?” Beck asks.

Grayson nods, and his eyes find mine again. “I’d love for you all to come. There’s this great little place on the Strip that’s brand new. Come check it out with me.”

“I’ll be there,” I murmur, transfixed by the way his eyes are silently begging me to come.

I’ll duck out of work for lunch…or I’ll quit or something. Anything to be there Monday, to have the chance to sit beside Grayson, maybe to have the chance to pull him aside and tell him the things that have been playing on my mind all through dinner—all through the last few weeks.

I have a text from him when I wake up in the morning, and it tells me he got up even earlier than I did.

Grayson: Dinner last night felt like old times, didn’t it?

I’m not quite sure how to reply. On the one hand, I want to let him know how I’m feeling, but on the other, I don’t want to distract him ahead of tomorrow’s game. And I don’t really want to say anything over text.

Me: It really did. I had a lot of fun sitting next to you.

His reply doesn’t come for about twelve hours, but when it does, it’s in the form of a phone call.

“Hey,” I answer.

“Hi. How was your day?”

“It was good. I made a ton of cookies and worked on two cakes. How was practice?”

“Good. We’re ready for the Jaguars tomorrow.”

“Are you at a hotel tonight?” I ask. He once mentioned that the entire team stays at a hotel the night before a game, even if it’s a home game, so coaches can make sure players aren’t distracted.

“Yes I am. Got a room all to myself this time.”

“Nice.”

A beat of quiet passes between us, and then we both start to say something at the same time.

“Grayson…”

“Ava…”

I clear my throat. “I feel like I have a lot I want to say to you, but I want to do it in person.”

“I want to do it in person, too,” he says lewdly, and I chuckle at his joke. “In all seriousness, we can talk tomorrow night after the game. Does that work?”

It does, but I have an idea.

I have no idea how much trouble he’ll get into, but it’s worth a shot anyway. We need to have this conversation in person.

“Yes,” I say instead of any of that. “So tell me about your hotel.”

He launches into a story I’m half-listening to while I pack a quick bag, and then I wish him luck at his game tomorrow before I tell my mom I’m heading out for the night.

And then I drive.