Page 43 of Nash

“And the one she gave me last week has Cheerios talking to my agent,” Paxton adds.

“Fucking Cheerios, I love it.” I laugh. That’s so fitting for Pax. I hope they put his face on a million boxes. I would buy fifteen of them.

“See,” Reese says, grinning at me. “I don't only focus on you.” She leans in and gives me a quick kiss. “At least not in terms of posting.”

“But in every other aspect?” I smirk at her.

“You are my one and only focus, Nash Stokehill.”

“That's what I like to hear,” I tease her right back, knowing she’s shuffling a hell of a lot more than just stroking my ego.

Not only is she running a very successful account for the Badgers, she also continues to work for her sister's makeup company, handling all those media pages as well. Add to it attending every single game, and meeting up with me in between, it's a marvel she has the energy totolerateme, let alone entertain my antics.

“My turn.” She hops up to grab her ball.

“I’ll grab more drinks,” I say, heading to the bar across from the lanes, ordering her a faux-hito—a mojito with no alcohol init, because she’s still on a no-drinking kick after New Year's Eve. I grab a soda water and lime, despite knowing we're going to take a Lyft back to the hotel. She doesn't mind if I drink, but I like to stay on the same page as her, not wanting us to be out of step even an inch.

“Hey there,” a feminine voice says right before a body brushes up against mine as she leans against the bar. “How are you doing tonight?” she asks before I can respond to her, and I turn to look at her, and then to the three friends standing behind her trying to get to the bar.

“I'll be out of your way in just a second,” I say, sliding some cash across the bar and taking the two drinks in my hands.

“Oh, you're not in our way,” the girl says before placing her hand on my forearm.

“We'd love it if you stayed. Do you have some friends that could entertain mine? I have a feeling we'd all get along.”

The question throws me off for a second.

Three months ago, this isexactlyan opportunity I would take. She clearly knows who I am from the way she’s grinning at me and talking to me like we already know each other.

Three months ago, I would’ve said of course, waved over my friends, and spent a very predictable but enjoyable evening in their company, only to never speak to them again after.

And now there isn’t even apercentageof me that’s interested.

There’s something refreshing and terrifying about that sensation…about knowing I have a drink to deliver, and I can’t wait to get back to the girl it belongs to.

I turn and point to our lane, where Reese is about to throw her ball. “You see that knockout in the hunter green dress?” I ask.

The girl's shoulders drop, but she keeps the smile on her lips and nods.

“This drink is for her,” I say. “But thanks for the invite. Good luck on the hunt tonight ladies,” I say, winking at them as I go back to our lane.

Reese's eyes are on me then, and she quickly looks away, running her hands self-consciously down her dress as she retakes her seat.

I set her drink down in front of her, putting mine next to it as I sit next to her. “What's wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing,” she says a little too quickly.

I cock an eyebrow at her, silently telling her I know better. Her mood has shifted, and her nerves are showing with the way she can't hold her smile in place.

“They looked fun,” she says, looking over my shoulder to the group of girls that are still at the bar.

“Ah,” I say nodding. “You saw that?”

“It's kind of hard tonotsee you when you're being charming and winking at a group of beautiful women,” she says.

I wet my lips, unable to hold back my grin. “Did you see the part before where I was pointing at you and saying that you’re a knockout andmine?”

Her eyes flare, blasting away the doubt that clung there before. “You didn’t?”

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