Dating the Defensive Back (The Nash Brothers Book 1)
Chapter 5

Cookie’s Cookies

I spot him the second we walk in.

Even from across the room, he’s gorgeous. Way hotter than he looked on TV, and also hotter than my memory recalled.

I can’t believe my luck.

He’s here.

He’s actually here.

And so is his youngest brother, Asher, who was a year older than me in high school. A whole bunch of football players are smashed into one large booth in the back, but my eyes immediately landed on Grayson.

He hasn’t spotted me yet, and I’m trying not to stare as Cora whisper-yells, “Holy shit, we hit the jackpot!”

She’s not wrong.

Poppy didn’t make the trip to the Gridiron with us crazy kids, as she calls us, so it’s just Cora, a couple of her friends, Kelly, Dom, and me, and I’m already a little buzzed since we pre-partied before we grabbed an Uber here.

“Aren’t most of them married?” Dom asks.

“Does it matter?” Cora asks, and I think she’s joking, but I’m not sure. “That new guy and his brother are pretty hot.”

Kelly opens her mouth, presumably to let them know my brother is actually friends with “that new guy,” but I don’t want them to know that. Not yet, anyway. I shake my head and widen my eyes in that secret don’t say a word signal that only a best friend could decode.

I’m not saying a thing until I can get a gauge on how all this is going to go down.

But I’m secretly dying inside that he’s here.

Those butterflies Kelly mentioned yesterday?

They’re flapping wildly all around my stomach as my eyes edge back to Grayson.

God, he’s good-looking. Bright blue eyes, dark hair that’s sort of lazily pushed back and could use a cut, scruff on his jawline that makes him look both rugged and tough. He tips a glass to his lips. It’s a short glass, which tells me it isn’t water, but it’s a clear liquid. What is Grayson Nash’s adult beverage of choice? Is he a vodka guy? Tequila? Something else?

I don’t know, but I do know I need a little liquid courage if I’m going to attempt to talk to him. I think I had a total of two conversations with him my entire life, but I’m his friend’s little sister. Certainly he’d give me the time of day now that I’m an adult and we have a shared connection in this new space where he replaces himself.

I head up to the bar with Kelly, and I order a vodka cranberry while she orders a glass of wine. It’s probably a more sophisticated choice than vodka, but I need something that’s a little more fast-acting.

The bartender sets my drink in front of me, and I’m about to hand him my credit card when I hear a voice beside me. “You can put it on my tab.”

I glance over and see a guy who’s probably a football player since I think he was in the same booth as Grayson, but he definitely doesn’t have the last name Nash.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I say, trying to be nice as I push my card over to the bartender and shoot him a tight smile.

“I’m happy to. I’m Austin Graham.”

“Well, thank you, Austin.” I’m suddenly nervous as this football player tries to buy me a drink when he’s not the one I want buying me a drink at all.

He’s attractive, for sure. But I have my eye on a different player, and I don’t know what it’s like for these guys. They’re teammates, and Grayson is new to the team. I can’t imagine he’d want anything to do with me if one of his new teammates is interested.

“And you are?” he presses, not getting the hint that I’m not interested.

“Just getting over a fresh breakup. But my friend Kelly here is definitely interested.” I look at Kelly and wiggle my eyebrows, and she looks like she’s about to die of mortification.

She doesn’t know who he is, either. If it was someone from the Vegas Heat baseball team, like Cooper Noah or Danny Brewer, standing there, she’d know. But this is a football player, and neither of us knows quarterbacks from cornerbacks.

When my brother played in high school, he did something on defense. That’s all I know. To be honest, I wasn’t really paying attention to the game so much as I was looking at butts. And Grayson Nash’s butt? Top notch.

I glance over at him as Austin turns fully around to talk to my best friend who is on the other side of him, and I see his eyes connect with mine.

A wave of anxiety crests through my back as he pushes to a stand, his eyes still on me. He starts his trek across the room in my direction.

Oh. My. God.

He’s actually walking toward me.

The anxiety cresting through me stands still for a beat before it snaps fiery rockets along my spine.

My hands tremble as I lift my vodka to my lips and tip it back, hoping it’s strong enough to give me the liquid courage I need to face this moment an entire decade in the making.

He stops in front of me, and he tilts his head a little, sending a searing buzz through me that lands squarely between my legs as my eyes meet his.

He’s even more gorgeous than teenage Ava remembered. He didn’t have that scruff on his jaw the last time I saw him, and he wasn’t so…built. Broad. Breathtaking.

He commands the room’s attention just by being in it. Maybe he always did, but he’s got this energy about him, this positive vibe like you can’t help but like him—like he’s everybody’s best friend. Yet he’s standing in front of me.

My chest races with anticipation.

“I need a woman’s opinion about something,” he says, and his voice is deeper than I remember it being. Raspier. Hotter.

I’m nervous, somehow reduced to the squirmy teenager I was the last time I saw him instead of the capable, confident woman I’ve grown into.

I tilt my head back at him, mirroring his stance. “About what?”

A woman with rather large…assets walks over, elbows her way in, and interrupts us before he gets the chance to answer. “Oh my God, it’s really you! I’m such a huge fan!”

“Thank you,” he says with a polite nod as he looks around her back at me. He seems almost uncomfortable, as if he doesn’t want a gorgeous woman walking up to him in a bar.

I wait for her to finish, but she sort of just stares at him. Maybe she’s waiting for him to offer to buy her a drink or take her back to his hotel.

“If you’ll excuse us,” he says to her, trying to give her the hint to get lost, but she doesn’t pick up the hint.

“I’d love to buy The Grayson Nash a drink,” she says, grabbing onto his bicep.

I’m frankly surprised he’s not choosing her. When I said assets, I meant boobs. They’re pushed up, and she’s shoving them nearly in his face, but he keeps glancing around her at me. I think he makes eyes at me to get him out of this, but I’ve never done this kind of thing before.

The vodka fuels me to try something. I stand and slip my arm around his waist, and he wraps an arm around my shoulder, and ohmygod Grayson Nash has his arm around me.

He smells good. So good.

“Hi, so sorry, but we were sort of in the middle of something,” I say.

“Oh!” She looks embarrassed. “Right. I’m sorry.” She slinks off after she glares at me.

I rather stupidly slip out from where our bodies are touching, and I sit on my stool and turn back to Grayson. “You needed my opinion about something?”

“If you saw a really gorgeous woman across the room, would you walk up to her and start up a conversation, or is that too direct?” he asks.

I lift a shoulder, a little disappointed that he’s asking me that question rather than being the woman he’s talking about. But maybe it’s because he recognizes me and feels comfortable asking my opinion. If he wanted that other lady, he should’ve just taken his chance when he had it.

“I don’t think it’s too direct,” I say, trying to banish all traces of disappointment from my tone. “I guess I’d say to go for it.”

He sticks his hand out. “In that case, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Grayson Nash.”

I blush—hard—as the pickup line works on me.

As I start to say my name, I realize…he doesn’t recognize me. Or maybe he does, somewhere in the recesses of his mind, but I’m not the girl I was when I was fifteen.

But if he doesn’t know who I am, I don’t want to blow my chances at wherever this night might lead with the truth that I’m his high school best friend’s little sister all grown up. He wouldn’t be looking at me with sex in his eyes the way he is if he knew I was the same girl who used to sit on the living room floor pretending to work out whenever he came over just to impress him with my five-pound dumbbell skills while he totally ignored me.

So I make a snap decision and swap out my name for another. “I’m A—uh, Cookie.”

“Cookie? That’s your name?”

“Well, no. It’s a nickname. I’m a pastry chef.”

“A pastry chef, huh? What’s your favorite thing to bake?”

“Cookies, of course. But I also love decorating cakes. Someday I’m going to open my own bakery,” I say, sharing my dream with Grayson Nash without even thinking twice about it.

“Big dreams,” he says.

“Nope.” I shake my head. “Sinful.”

His brows crinkle together. “Sinful dreams?”

“Oh, I thought you were naming my bakery. I want to open it on the Strip, and it’s Sin City, and you know how sweets are a sinful treat…so I was planning to name it Sinful.” My other thought was Ava’s Haven, but that seems kind of…lame.

“What about Cookie’s Cookies?” he suggests, and I giggle.

“Cookie’s Cookies? But what if I want to sell cakes, too?”

“Cookie’s Cookies and Cakes.” He holds his hands out as if that’s the solution, and to be honest…it’s kind of cute. Or maybe he is kind of cute, and I am kind of delusional.

“Considering I’m stuck working for someone else, I guess I have more time to dream about what the name of my future bakery is going to be.” I shrug. “What about you? You’re new to town, right?” I realize my mistake a moment too late, giving myself away as knowing who he is when I was trying to play it cool.

He narrows his eyes at me. “You know who I am?”

“You’re all over the news.” I shrug. “And when we walked in here, my friends went bananas that there were football players here. And, you know, Big Boobs over there said your name.”

He chuckles at my assessment of the woman trying to hit on him. “Your friends did?” He leans in a little closer. So close. Too close. I can smell him, and…yeah. That clean, woodsy scent does things to me.

Whoa.

I feel a little dizzy as I breathe him in and feel his heat so close to me.

I take a sip of my vodka cranberry to force a little cool liquid onto my tongue.

I haven’t flirted with anybody in…well, probably close to five years. I’m not sure how to do it anymore, especially not with the man standing in front of me. My ex of five minutes wasn’t really the flirty type, so I haven’t exercised these muscles in a while.

“Yeah,” I say. “My friends. Want to meet them?”

He chuckles. “Eventually, maybe. But right now, I’m most interested in meeting you.”

“Me?” I squeak as I die inside a little.

“You,” he confirms with a nod. His blue eyes search mine, and he runs a hand through the hair that’s a little longish on top as he looks away for a beat.

He could have any woman here in this bar. They’re all clamoring to talk to him, anyway—as already evidenced by the woman who walked up to us.

But he’s talking to me.

“Why me?” The desperate, dumb words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

He chuckles. “I don’t really have an answer for that. At least I don’t have one that will make me look like I’m not just a dumb jock who is only out for one thing.”

“Are you?” I raise my brows pointedly.

He looks caught off guard by my question, but he shrugs. “I’m a smart jock out for one thing.”

I laugh. “And what’s that thing?” I have a feeling I know what it is, but I’m…shall we say…new at this.

But I’ve also put a lot of thought into this moment, and by this moment, I mean what I’d do if Colin and I ever broke up.

I’m free as a bird, and I definitely want to exercise that freedom. With Grayson Nash. And by freedom, I mean sex. Tonight.

His lips tip up a little. “I like a woman who’s direct, so let me be direct with you. I’m new to town. I don’t know anybody here except my two brothers and some acquaintances. It’s my first night, I’m staying at a hotel since I don’t have a place yet, and I’d love to invite you back to my room where we can talk privately.”

“Talk?” I repeat.

He raises a brow. “Where we can get to know each other. Maybe, you know…sample some cookies.”

Oh. I chug the rest of my vodka.

“Is that how this works? You just…hit a woman with a pickup line in a bar, and she goes back to your hotel room so you can taste her cookie?”

He has the grace to look a little sheepish.

“Because I’m not saying no to that,” I add before he can protest or say something that’ll make him look like a total jerk.

Maybe it’s the courage from the vodka and the buzz. Maybe it’s because fifteen-year-old Ava is about to get everything she ever wanted. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t seem to recognize me, but I know him, and that makes me feel a little safer, like doing this with him isn’t really that bad of an idea since I’ve dreamed of the moment he gave me a single second of attention when I first saw him back when I was eight years old and my oldest brother had his friends over to play video games his freshman year of high school.

He looks downright shocked by my words. “You haven’t exactly said yes, though, either.”

“Okay. Then yes.”

“Really? You don’t even know me.”

“I feel like I do.” Because I do. But I’m still not telling him that. “And maybe you could treat me to dinner first so it feels more like a date than just a hookup.”

I spot another woman beelining for him. “And, you know…other women. It would be nice to have some privacy without all the competition.”

He tilts his head and twists his lips. “Okay. I could eat dinner. I should also mention that I don’t know if I’ll be able to make a connection beyond tonight. Like I said, I’m new to town, and—”

I hold up a hand, interrupting him. “I never said I want anything more than tonight, either. But don’t you want to hang out with your new teammates a little while longer?”

His jaw slackens a little. “Not when your cookies have me so goddamn intrigued.”

I laugh. “You’re taking cookies over teammates?”

He shakes his head a little as his eyes flick down to my lips. “No. I’m taking you over teammates. I have an entire year ahead with them, but I’m not blowing my chance at tonight with you.”

I narrow my eyes. “Was that another line?”

He lifts a shoulder. “Maybe a little. But truthfully, there’s something about you that caught my attention the second you walked in. And Graham’s, clearly. But you pawned him off on your friend. Why are you talking to me?”

“Because you’re Grayson Nash. You’re a legend, and I’m not blowing my chance at tonight with you, either.” I set my glass on the bar with a loud clatter, link my arm around his, and escort him toward the door without so much as a backward glance at the woman who was making her way toward him—or at my friends…or his.