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 Steelheads’ 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 good night, 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, any way 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—Running Touchdown
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 Bruiser, Mac hadn’t seen him at Steelheads’ 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 canceled. 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 eight-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
