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“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.”
