something close to his ear. He shook his head and dug in his back pocket for his wallet, then handed her two fives.
The waitress had hardly walked away before Mae asked, “What did she want this time?”
Hugh raised his beer to his lips and took a long pull before he set it back down. “To know if John was going to show up tonight.”
“Is he?”
“No, but even if he were here, she isn’t his type.”
Mae took a sip of her drink. “What’s his type?”
Hugh smiled. “Your friend.”
When he smiled and his eyes lit up that way, Mae could see how some women might find him very handsome. “Georgeanne?”
“Yep.” He twirled the neck of the green bottle between his thumb and fingers. “He likes women who are built like her. He always has. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be in the mess he’s in. She’s torn him up pretty bad.”
Mae nearly choked on her drink. She licked the coffee-flavored liqueur from her top lip and sputtered, “Torn him up? Georgeanne is a wonderful person and he has made her life hell.”
“I don’t know about that. I only hear John’s side, and he doesn’t really discuss his personal business with anyone. But I do know that when he found out about Lexie, he kind of freaked out. He got real tense and edgy for a while. She was all he talked about. He canceled a trip to Cancun which he’d planned for months, and he pulled out of the World Cup, too. Instead he invited Lexie and Georgeanne to his house in Oregon.”
“Only because he wanted to trick Georgeanne into trusting him while he screwed her over-in more ways than one.”
He shrugged. “I don’t really know what happened in Oregon, but it sounds like you do.”
“I know that he hurt-”
“Mae?” a male voice interrupted. She turned to her left and looked up at Ted, who stood next to the table. “I’m sorry I’m late, but I had a little trouble getting away.”
Ted was short and skinny, and Mae noticed for the first time that he wore his pants a little too high on his waist. He looked like a real wimp next to the piece of beefcake across the table. “Hi, Ted,” Mae greeted, and pointed toward Hugh. “This is Hugh Miner.”
Ted smiled and held out his hand for the well-known goalie.
Hugh didn’t smile, and he didn’t shake Ted’s hand. Instead he stood and stared down at the smaller man. “I’m only going to say this once to you,” he said in a calm voice. “Get the hell out of here or I’ll beat the shit out of you.”
Ted’s smile and hand fell at the same time. “What?”
“If you ever come near Mae again, I’ll beat you to a bloody stump.”
“Hugh!” Mae gasped.
“Then when your wife comes to the hospital to identify your body,” he continued, “I’ll tell her why I had to kick your ass.”
“Ted!” Mae flew to her feet and shoved her way between the two men. “He’s lying. He won’t hurt you.”
Ted looked from Hugh to Mae, then without a word, turned on his heel and practically ran down the street. Mae swung around and threw Hugh’s jacket on the table. Balling up her fist, she punched him in the chest. “You big butthead!” People sitting at other tables outside the bar turned to look at her, but she didn’t care.
“Ouch.” He raised his hand and rubbed the front of his shirt. “For such a little thing, you hit pretty hard.”
“What in the hell is your problem? That was my date,” Mae seethed.
“Yeah, and you should thank me. What a weasel.”
She knew he was a little bit of a weasel, but he was a nice-looking weasel. It had taken her three months to find him, and she hadn’t tried him out yet. She grabbed her purse off the table and looked down the street. Maybe if she hurried, she could catch up with him. She turned to leave and felt strong fingers wrap around her arm.
“Let him go.”
“No.” Mae tried to jerk her arm free but couldn’t. “Damn it,” she cursed as she caught one last glimpse of Ted’s retreating back. “He probably won’t ever call me again.”
“Probably not.”
She frowned into Hugh’s smiling face. “Why did you do that?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t like him.”
“What?” Mae laughed without humor. “Who cares whether you liked him or not? I don’t need your approval.”
“He isn’t the man for you.”
“How do you know?”
He smiled at her. “Because I think I’m the man for you.”
This time her laughter was laced with amusement. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I’m serious.”
She didn’t believe him. “You’re exactly the type of guy I
“What type is that?”
She looked pointedly at his hand still gripping her arm. “Macho, muscle-head, egomaniac. Men who think they can push around people who are smaller and weaker than them.”
He let go of her arm and retrieved his jacket from the table. “I’m not an egomaniac, and I don’t push people around.”
“Really? What about Ted?”
“Ted doesn’t count.” He wrapped the jacket around her shoulders again. “I could tell he had that small-man syndrome. He probably beats his wife.”
Mae frowned at his outrageous assumption. “What about me?”
“What about you?”
“You’re pushing me around.”
“Honey, you’re about as weak as a wrecking ball.”
He turned the collar of his jacket up around her jaw and put his hands on her shoulders. “And I think you like me more than you’re willing to admit.”
Mae looked down and closed her eyes. This was not happening. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know you’re beautiful and I think about you a lot. I’m very attracted to you, Mae.”
Her eyes popped open. “Me?” Men like Hugh weren’t attracted to women like her. He was a well-known athlete. She was a flat-chested, skinny girl who’d never had a date until after she’d graduated from high school. “This isn’t funny.”
“I don’t think so either. I liked you the first time I saw you standing in the park. Why do you think I’ve been calling you?”
“I just thought you liked to harass women.”
He laughed. “No. Just you. You’re special.”
She allowed herself a moment to believe him. A moment to feel flattered by the attentions of a big jock she had no intention of dating. The moment didn’t last long before she remembered how he’d teased her the first time they’d met. “You’re a real jerk,” she said.
“I hope you give me a chance to change your mind.”
She grabbed his wrist. “This isn’t funny anymore.”
“I never thought it was funny. I usually like girls who like me back. I’ve never fallen for someone who hated me.”
He looked so serious she almost believed him. “I don’t hate you,” she confessed.
“Well, that’s a start, I guess.” He moved his hands to the sides of her neck and tilted her chin back with his thumbs. “Are you still cold?”
“A little.” The warmth of his palms on her throat spread a quivering heat to her stomach. She was shocked and somewhat dismayed by her reaction.
“Do you want to take our drinks and go inside?”
Her shock settled into confusion. “I want to go home.”
Disappointment tugged one corner of his mouth downward, and he moved his hands to her upper arms. “I’ll
