Backfield in Motion (15 page)

Several minutes later, they walked into a
greasy spoon with an equally dreary bar. Mac and Bruiser both
headed straight for the bathrooms to wash their hands. When Bruiser
came out, Craig was seated at a table in the bar, along with Mac.
Bruiser ordered a whiskey. Since he wasn’t driving, he might as
well see if drinking would relieve some of the sexual frustrations
currently hammering his body.

Trudy turned out to be a stereotypical
waitress, right down the bleached blonde hair, gum chewing, and
tight clothes. She latched onto Bruiser like a woman who’d won the
Mega Millions. Bruiser didn’t much like being anyone’s lottery
prize, but the irritation flashing in Mac’s eyes goaded him on. She
didn’t want him here, and that hurt for reasons he couldn’t
explain.

When Trudy left to fill their drink order,
Craig nudged Bruiser. “She’s interested in you. Play along and see
if you can get any info out of her.”

“Dad, please, don’t get Bruiser involved in
this.” Mac pursed her lips together, her narrowed gaze sliding from
her father to Bruiser.

“He doesn’t mind, do you, son?” Craig stared
at him with such desperation, Bruiser couldn’t say no, even though
Craig’s suggestion had Mac almost gnashing her teeth.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Bruiser smiled
innocently at Mac. Maybe next time she’d think twice before she
attempted to ditch him. Even better, they might finish up and get
back to her house in time for a continuation of their car sex.

With renewed enthusiasm, Bruiser strolled
over to the bar, dialed up the charm, and chatted up Trudy. The
woman all but climbed into his pants. Her cloying perfume choked
him and her cat-like claws dug into his arm, but Bruiser stuck with
it, bullshitting her until he could get past the garbage to the
good stuff, whatever the fuck that might be.

Trudy lowered her voice and glanced over her
shoulder. “You naughty boy, coming on to me in front of them. You
can’t be dating Mac?” She said it as if it were an inconceivable
possibility.

Bruiser clenched his jaw, unreasonably
pissed at the scorn this fake bitch directed at Mac, but he forced
himself to play along. “Uh, no, just hanging with them. She works
at the Jacks’ practice facility. I lost a bet and had to take her
to dinner, so here we are.”

Trudy nodded, shooting a glance at Mac’s
table then back to Bruiser. “I understand. I figured it had to be
something like that. She’s not your type.”

Irritation rolled through Bruiser. Mac
out-scored this woman any day of the week. Yet obviously, Trudy
assumed she was more Bruiser’s type. God, maybe she was, based on
past girlfriends and hook-ups. The realization made him sick to his
stomach.

“What are you doing later tonight?” Trudy
pressed her hips against his, and Bruiser juked to the side with a
smooth move that put a barstool between them.

“I have a commitment. Wish I didn’t, but I
do.” What a lying sack of shit he was, but he reminded himself it
was all for a greater cause.

“Maybe some other time.” She ran a
fire-engine red fingernail across the stubble on his chin. Instead
of turning him on, he suppressed a shudder. He swore he could feel
Mac’s eyes burning a heart-sized hole in his back.

“Yeah, give me your number.” Mac and Craig
owed him. Big time.

Trudy scratched her number on the back of a
paper coaster and handed it to him. “Don’t lose this.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He folded it neatly
and tucked it in his jeans pocket, then struck a casual pose
leaning against the bar while keeping a strategic barstool between
them. “So how do you know Mac and Craig?”

“Oh, my former best friend used to be
married to her brother.” Trudy stepped back a little, biting at her
lower lip. On Mac the act would’ve been sexy, on Trudy it read like
a guilty verdict. This woman did know something.

“Really? The one who disappeared?”

“Yes. Will.” Her short, clipped tone didn’t
invite more questions, but Bruiser didn’t give a shit.

“So you’re not friends with her
anymore?”

“No, she’s a selfish bitch.” Trudy wouldn’t
meet his gaze. Instead she ripped a paper coaster into little
pieces.

“Do you think she did something to Will?”
Bruiser sipped his beer and feigned casual disinterest, as if it
were of no consequence to him.

Trudy’s eyes narrowed and her expression
turned guarded. She glanced at Mac and Craig then back to Bruiser.
Her fake smile dropped off her face to be replaced with a
suspicious frown. Before he could react, she reached a hand in his
pocket and snatched the coaster with her phone number. “I might be
a blonde, but I’m not dumb. Try some other sucker.” She turned away
from him and stalked off to bus tables. Bruiser closed his eyes for
a moment, disappointed he’d come so close only to fail.

“What happened?” Craig asked when Bruiser
returned to the table.

“I pushed too hard, too fast. She’s already
suspicious of you two. I should’ve come in alone.”

“You tried. You don’t need to do any more.”
Mac jumped in quickly, shoving a hand through her thick mane of
blonde hair. If Bruiser didn’t know better, he’d swear she was
jealous, and he kind of liked that.

“She knows something. Somehow she’s
involved. There’s no way someone like her would keep a secret
unless it was to her benefit.” Craig’s eyes burned with an
unbalanced intensity that made Bruiser uncomfortable. The guy
needed emotional help.

“Dad, it was a long shot at best. Trudy
isn’t talking.” She turned to Bruiser. “So what are the Jacks’
chances at a Super Bowl this year?” Mac stared pointedly at him,
her knee bumping his.

Bruiser blinked a few times, trying to focus
on this abrupt change in topic. “I think we can do it. Last year
was a bit of a rebuilding year, lots of new, young players
and—”

“What do you think she knows?” Craig
interrupted, as he kept his eyes on Trudy, like he’d suddenly see
the truth by staring at her.

“What? Who knows? Veronica?” Bruiser didn’t
understand the question. Mac shot him a look that he couldn’t
interpret.

“Trudy, of course. She has to know
something. I bet she helped dispose of the body, or maybe she lured
Will somewhere under a false pretense, and they killed him
there.”

Bruiser didn’t quite know how to answer
that. He was used to dysfunctional families, but he felt sorry for
Mac all the same. As annoying as his mother and sister were, they
had lives. Craig didn’t appear to have or want one. He expected the
same from his daughter, and he was holding her hostage with guilt
as his weapon.

Throughout the remainder of a crappy
evening, Mac steered the conversation to one topic after another,
only to have Craig steer it back to Will. Craig didn’t have any
interest in hearing about Mac’s attempt to get a scholarship or
become a sports turf manager. When they finally got back to her
house, Craig followed her inside, still rambling about what Trudy
must know. Mac cast an apologetic look in Bruiser’s direction. He
took the hint, said goodnight, and drove back to his townhouse.

Sexually frustrated, Bruiser chose a cold
shower for company. Sure, there were other women he could call, but
he didn’t want other women right now. He wanted Mac, wanted her
vertical, horizontal, upside down—hell, anyway he could get
her.

He stood under the showerhead as the frigid
water sluiced down his body, shriveling his dick, but not his
desire. This thing with Mac was just about sex.

It had to be.

Bruiser’s damaged heart and brittle soul
couldn’t handle anything more.

Chapter 11

Mac couldn’t decide if her father had done
her a favor or a disservice by barging past Bruiser into her house
a few nights ago, essentially ruining Mac’s plans for a little
playtime with the league heartthrob. Scowling, Bruiser had just
shrugged one shoulder, turned to his car, and driven away.

Instead off an all-night romp, Mac’s evening
consisted of the deadly dull boredom of listening to her father
obsess over Bruiser going back to the diner by himself to weasel
info out of Trudy.

Speaking of the Bruiser, Mac hadn’t seen him
at Jacks’ HQ for a couple days. Probably on some modeling stint or
endorsement. Bruiser endorsed everything from condoms to underwear
to heartburn medicine. As long as someone slapped cash into his
palm, he’d endorse their product. The man was an endorsement slut,
along with his other vices, which made him
so
not the man
for Mac. He was too preoccupied with his appearance, and she was
not. Well, maybe that wasn’t totally true. She’d grown fond of her
new look, liked how guys gave her a second glance, how people
listened to her, and how it made her feel more confident.

Despite her every argument to the contrary,
Bruiser stayed at the top of her fantasy list, day and night.

That evening as Mac left work, her cell
chirped. She snatched it up and speed-read the screen. A slow smile
slid across her face and her panties went from dry to wet in under
five seconds.

That had to be a personal best.

O’Malley’s? Unless your Dad has plans for
you.

Bruiser with those laughing storm-cloud eyes
kicked every other priority in her life to the procrastination
basement, and she got hot all over.

Mac tapped out:
On my way.

Me, too.

Then she remembered. Her father wanted to
spend the evening going over the clues one more time. She didn’t
even hesitate; she texted her father and cancelled. It was time for
her to do something for herself, and she wouldn’t say no to Bruiser
or to his luscious, made-for-sex body.

Maybe there was more to it than just the
thought of a night of sex. The profound sadness lurking behind
Bruiser’s well-rehearsed smile intrigued her. And despite her
denial, that glimpse of vulnerability sucked her in more than his
six-pack abs and gorgeous face.

Bruiser’s SUV was already sitting in the
parking lot when she pulled in and parked her old F-150 next to it.
Mac dug through her purse for her feeble collection of makeup and
applied a little lipstick and blush. Then she brushed out her hair
and frowned. Confined to a ponytail all day, her hair had funny
waves in it, flat in some places and sticking up in others. Well,
it was the best she could do on short notice.

She hopped out of her truck and restrained
herself from running inside. Instead she sauntered, as if she
hadn’t a care in the world, just as Kelsie had taught her.

Bruiser glanced up, those twinkling eyes
sliding down her body and back up like a lover’s caress. Mac
shivered and as she started to slide into the opposite side of the
booth Bruiser shook his head and patted the spot next to him. Mac
hesitated briefly then sat down on his side. He slid closer, their
thighs touching, and rested his arm across the back of the booth,
rubbing her shoulder with his strong fingers.

“Miss me?” He grinned at full wattage, as if
really happy to see her.

“Like an ice storm on a Seattle
freeway.”

“Good. I missed you, too.” Insults didn’t
deter Bruiser. He glanced around. “No Craig tonight?”

“No, he’s going back over some leads.” Mac
refused to give into the guilt.

Bruiser frowned. “Is that all he ever
does?”

“Pretty much twenty-four-seven, and I do
mean that. He doesn’t sleep much. Finding out what happened to Will
is his life.”

“I think that’s sad.” Looking down, Bruiser
toyed with his coaster. After a few moments, he looked up. “You
know, I’ll do that for you if it’ll help.”

“Do what?”

“Come on to Trudy. See what I can find out.
I draw the line at getting naked with her though.” His grin
returned. “There’s only one female I’m interested in getting naked
with right now, and she’s sitting next to me.”

“You’re toying with me.” Mac
so
wanted that to be true.

“Oh, yeah, and I’d like to do so much more.”
One corner of his mouth kicked up in his trademark, lopsided grin,
as he cocked his head at her, while that stubborn lock of blond
hair fell across his forehead.

Their gazes caught and held. A tremor
rumbled from her toes to the tips of her newly highlighted hair,
with the epicenter right between her legs.

Bruiser wound several strands of her hair
around his index finger. He brought them up to his nose and
inhaled. “Your hair smells damn good.”

“And you look damn good.” Lately the man had
this more-than-a-five-o’clock shadow thing going on, and it was
sexy as hell. She’d never been much for facial hair, but Bruiser
could have hair on his shoulders and back, and she’d still find him
bone-jumpingly drool-worthy.

They ordered dinner and huddled together in
their little dark corner like two lovers, or at least would-be
lovers. Mac sipped cheap wine. She’d never acquired a taste for the
expensive stuff. Give her white zin or chilled red any day. Bruiser
sucked down a microbrew and soon they were debating the merits of
3-4 defenses versus 4-3, whether or not Zach had enough gas left in
his tank for another season, and the odds on Tyler molding the
young offense into a cohesive unit.

They talked so much that they didn’t even
notice the place had emptied out and the staff watched them with
undisguised annoyance. Bruiser dropped a big bill on the table and
grabbed Mac’s hand. “So my place or yours?”

“Mine is closer.”

“As long as your dad stays far away.”

“He will. He thinks I’m sick. He’s never
been good at playing the role of nursemaid.”

“So you lied to him?”

“Fibbed. For the greater good.”

Bruiser threw back his head and laughed as
they crossed the parking lot. “Mac, you’d better watch it. You’re
getting more and more like me every day.”

“That’s a scary thought.”