She smiled at him through lowered lashes. It was so unlike Mac to be shy, but it really flipped his switch. The male part of him loved the skin she showed, from the low neckline of the slinky gold dress to the slit up the side showing a good length of shapely leg. Another deeper part of him was not entirely comfortable with this stranger.
“So, what do you think?” Her eyes sparkled, and she whirled around.
“You look—” He tried to think of the words but couldn’t. “I’m stunned.”
“A good stunned?”
“Oh, yeah.”
He got into the car and drove down the street. “You’re beautiful with or without the clothes and makeup. I don’t want you to feel like you have to change for me or anything else.”
“I do if I want to impress Veronica. We both know she’s superficial like…” Mac’s hand flew to her mouth.
“Like who? Like me?”
“No, that wasn’t what I was going to say. Insert any spoiled diva’s name.”
“Well, thank God you don’t think I’m a diva.” He should’ve let it drop, but he couldn’t.
She turned on him with mischief in her eyes. “You’ve been known to be a diva. You’re always making sure your hair is perfect when you take your helmet off. The guys think you must carry a mirror everywhere you go.”
“True, that,” he conceded to an argument he couldn’t win. “So…there’s one more thing.”
She tilted her head in the cutest damn way and studied him. “And that is?”
“I need to pick up someone else also.”
“Someone else?” He heard the unmistakable sound of her teeth grinding together. “Don’t tell me you double-booked yourself for tonight.”
He grinned at her. “That would present some interesting possibilities.”
She punched him in the arm, not a wussy girl punch, but one with some power behind it. Actually, it kinda hurt and most likely would leave a bruise.
“Damn, woman, good thing I’m not the quarterback or you’d be explaining to Coach what happened to my throwing arm.”
Mac snorted like the old Mac. No ladylike snort for this woman. “Who is this person we’re picking up?”
Bruiser did a quick rundown of Elliot and his history. “So if you’d treat him like you’d treat anyone, I’d appreciate it. You don’t have to avoid the subject, but don’t stare either.”
“Trust me. I can handle this.”
Mac was telling the truth. He sensed it, and it made him appreciate her all the more.
* * * * *
Mac sat in the car as Bruiser went to the front door of the modest ranch house in a run-down neighborhood of look-alike seventies-era houses. Children’s toys littered the dandelion-filled front lawn, and rhodies grew wild next to the house, obscuring the windows.
A few seconds later Bruiser walked out the front door, his arm around a small, scrawny kid in an ill-fitting suit. The kid wore a Steelheads baseball cap pulled down over his head and big black-rimmed glasses. Shoulders slumped, the boy kept his head down, and immediately, her heart melted for him. When he glanced up, she smiled. He didn’t smile back; instead he ducked his head again. Pity overwhelmed her, but she’d be damned if she’d show it. That would be the last thing a kid with his kind of injuries would need.
Bruiser opened the back door and the boy climbed in, but he didn’t look at Mac as he strapped himself in.
Bruiser slid into the driver’s seat. His expression undecipherable, he half turned to look in the back seat. “Mac, this is Elliot. Elliot, my friend Mac.”
“Hi, Elliot. I’m glad you could join us.” Mac reached back and offered her hand, but Elliot kept his hands in his lap, fingers clenched. She patted him on the arm instead.
After a tense silence, Elliot looked up at her. Mac was struck by his brilliant blue eyes framed by long lashes and magnified by the thick lenses, set in a face covered with blotchy red burn scars and skin grafts.
He was so small, so vulnerable, and she instantly fell in love with the little boy who’d seen too much tragedy in his short life, a child left behind by those he loved the most. Even though it wasn’t his parents’ choice to leave, nothing changed the fact that they were gone. Forever. Just like her own mother and Will.
“Are you really glad I joined you?” Elliot spoke quietly.
“Of course I am, and so is Bruiser.” Mac smiled, looking him straight in the eyes, past the scars to the part of him that really mattered.
“Yeah, buddy, we’re going to have a good time. You’ll see.” Bruiser started the car and steered it out of the depressing neighborhood.
Elliot turned his attention back to Mac. Distrust shone in his eyes and something more—some of the same shared tragedy she recognized in Bruiser and herself. Oh, God, she wanted to reach for him, wrap him in her arms, and make the hurt go away. If only it were that simple.
“So, Elliot, what do you like to do for fun?” Mac hoped her question was safe enough.
“I like to read.”
“Really? What do you read?” Mac glanced at Bruiser when she heard his chuckle.
“Everything, mostly classics.” Elliot almost smiled, and Mac patted herself on the back for finding a subject of interest to him.
“Wow, you like the classics? That’s impressive for someone your age.”
“My parents had me reading before I started school. I miss them.” Elliot swiped a tear that welled in his eye.
“Oh, Elliot. I’m so sorry, honey. I know how it feels to lose someone you love. I lost my mom when I was really young.”
Elliot nodded, looking incredibly old and wise for someone so young. “Bruiser gave me a Kindle, and I get to download any book I want on it.”
“Maybe you can recommend a few books to me.”
He perked up at the suggestion. “I could do that.” And just like that, the floodgates opened. Elliot talked their
