Quitting the Quarterback (The Nash Brothers #4)

CHAPTER 6 Tanner Banks

The Splits

I feel out of my element, which is a strange feeling for me.

I don’t usually have to work all that hard to pick up a woman who throws a line at me.

“You’re a football player?” Those were her first words to me, and I thought it was because she recognized me. But then she said the whole bit about not being into football, and I don’t know…it left me feeling intrigued.

That’s a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time.

I occasionally get the sense that the only reason women talk to me is because of my career. I guess objectively, I’m not a bad-looking dude. My twin is attractive to the female population, and my four half-brothers seem to do all right for themselves. As much as Eddie Nash is an asshole, he did pass down some decent genes.

Plus I have the whole pro quarterback thing going for me, which means intense workouts and eating right along with mental toughness, leadership skills, focus, discipline, competitiveness, charisma, and, of course, a healthy dose of arrogance .

That’s me in a nutshell.

But this woman whose name I don’t even know yet doesn’t know any of that about me. All she knows is that I’m a football player along with whatever assumptions she carries with her based on that.

“You know who I am,” I say once we’re sitting in the quiet corner of the VIP area. “Tell me about you.”

She licks her lips, and I can’t help but study the little dart of her tongue as it sweeps across her bottom lip. It’s just a peek, but it almost feels like a preview of something to come. I don’t know why it gives me the strongest urge to kiss her…but it does.

“Well, I’m Cassandra, but everyone calls me Cassie.” She snags that lip between her teeth for a second as if she’s debating how much more to give me. “I love gymnastics, and I used to be able to do the splits.”

I raise a brow, and she giggles a little.

Women don’t tell men they can do the splits if they’re going for innocence. Clearly she isn’t.

“My favorite color is peach, I’ve never smoked a cigarette in my entire life, and I love, love, love avocados. Now you.” She nods at me as if she just clued me in to the mysteries of Cassandra, but she isn’t giving me much.

“My favorite color is green. I don’t smoke, but I can’t pretend I’ve never tried it. I don’t drink coffee or anything with caffeine in it, and I wouldn’t say I love avocados, but I don’t hate them. I prefer the beach to the desert, though my favorite season is winter.”

Her brows dip together. “Winter? Why?”

I shrug. “Football. You know, your favorite sport.”

She laughs. “Right. I prefer fall, actually. I love sweater weather, jeans, boots, bonfires, and, of course, pumpkin spice lattes. ”

“Ah, you’re one of them .”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Exactly what is that supposed to mean?”

“A coffee drinker,” I say innocently.

She grins, clearly proud of that fact. “Absolutely.”

“I can get on board with fall. Except for the lattes. I’d gravitate toward cider, maybe.”

“So you’ve never had coffee?” she asks.

I lift a shoulder. “I’ve tried it. It’s fine. But caffeine throws off my sleep cycle, and except when I’m in Vegas celebrating, sleep is a top priority.”

She leans in a little. “Are you saying you won’t be sleeping tonight?”

“Depends.” My eyes meet her gaze, and she’s looking at me with something I’ve seen before—something that tells me exactly how the rest of this conversation is going to go.

“On what?” she asks—rather predictably—as she takes a sip of her margarita.

“On whether you’re coming back to my hotel with me.”

I half expect the margarita to come spraying at me, but instead, she swallows thickly, and her eyes heat on mine. “I think neither of us is going to get much sleep at all tonight, then.” She raises her brows in a challenge, and goddamn, I really like this girl. Apparently my cock does, too, and he is very interested in getting to know her even more.

I’m curious to know more about her—things deeper than her favorite color and her preferred fall beverage.

But that’s not what one-night stands are built for, and there’s a clear undercurrent of understanding between us. There has to be when you pick someone up at a nightclub in Vegas. It’s not like either of us is in this for the long haul. I’m not local, and I don’t know whether she is. I just know she’s here celebrating a divorce .

I’d offer to let her friends join us, but part of me wants to be selfish with her. I don’t want to share her. I like having her full attention on me, and I like focusing on just her—which is what I told Grayson as I walked by him on the way back here. Don’t let anyone bother me. I think I said it nicer than that, but he knew what I meant.

Clearly she’s been hurt if she’s just on the other side of a divorce, and I have the sudden urge to make her forget about that shitty ex of hers and be the only man on her mind—even if it’s just for one night.

Every woman deserves that sort of attention, and I want to be the one to give it to her. She’s here for a weekend she’ll never forget. Isn’t that why everyone goes to Vegas? So I’ll give her that, and we’ll part in the morning with a new memory.

I lean in a little closer. “Is it too soon to ask if you want to head back to my hotel with me?”

She twists her lips a little as she narrows her eyes. She chugs what’s left in her margarita, and then she shakes her head. “To be honest, I thought you’d never ask.”

I chuckle. “Do you need to tell your friends?”

She grabs her phone out of the little purse she’s carrying. She taps a few words and tucks her phone back in. “Done.”

Well, that’s good enough for me. I grab her hand, and we head toward the exit together.