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I stare out the window for a while as I think about this whole situation with Ava before I finally decide to call my dad.
“I was wondering when you’d finally break,” he answers.
Yeah, that’s dear old Dad. Never a hello or friendly greeting, that’s for damn sure.
“Consider me broken.”
“Asher said you’ve been in town a while now.”
“I have,” I admit. “Been busy getting my shit together.”
“Getting your shit together? Or finding the first girl who catches your eye?” he presses.
“I take it you’ve seen the pictures. You recognize her?”
“No. The name’s familiar, but with four boys and a life of my own, it’s hard to keep up.”
“She’s Beckett Maxwell’s little sister,” I say. I’m about to tell him we’re just faking it for the media when I realize…why the fuck would I tell my dad that? So he could lord it over me? Thanks, but no thanks.
“Okay,” he says, as if he doesn’t even know the name of the man who has been my best friend since I was fourteen.
I feel like my mother would have a completely different reaction to my news.
And I might even tell her the truth.
“Well…should we do dinner or something?” I ask.
“Sure. You, me, and Asher? Tonight?” he suggests, and why do I get the sudden inclination I’m going to get stuck with the bill?
“Fine,” I say with a sigh. “I’ll pick you two up around seven.”
Ava texts me back around lunchtime.
Cookie: Yes, I can make it. I’ll come straight from work, so just send me the address.
I text it over to her, and then I resume my brooding as I stare out the window.
Eventually it’s time to head over and meet this publicist, and I get the feeling that if she’s married to Luke Dalton, she knows what she’s doing. He’s a legend with the Vegas Aces, and I’ve never met anybody who didn’t respect the hell out of him. I remember playing against the Aces when I was in Los Angeles, and twice I spent the whole goddamn game trying to keep up with the guy only to have him duck away and pull moves I never saw coming.
Plus, his brother owns the team I play on now, so there’s that.
Ellie works from her home office, so I ring the doorbell promptly at three thirty. It’s not a woman who answers the door, though—it’s Luke.
“Grayson Nash,” he says, reaching his hand out to shake mine. “Good to have you on our team for a change. I always had the hardest time outrunning you.”
I chuckle as I shake his hand then slap his back. “I was just thinking the same goddamn thing about you.”
He laughs and invites me in.
“Are you still working with the Aces?” I ask.
“I am. I’ve been a consultant to the wide receiver coach for the last few years. It’s the best of all worlds. I can keep my foot in the game without the grueling schedule.” He leads me through the house toward a hallway as we talk, and then we appear in a white office with purple décor. “This is my wife, Ellie. She’s the best in the business, and she’ll take good care of you.”
She blushes a little at her husband’s compliment, and she stands and walks around the desk to shake my hand. “Nice to meet you, Grayson.”
“And you,” I say with a polite nod.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Luke says, and he ducks out as Ellie nods toward a chair on the opposite side of her desk while she slips back into her chair.
