Bruiser opened the back door for him, while Mac stood off to the side. “Come on, buddy. You’ll do fine.”
“I’m scared.” Elliot didn’t look scared, he looked terrified and ready to bolt at any time.
“We’re here with you every step of the way. You’ll have fun because you’re with me, and I’m in charge of the fun crowd.”
Elliot reached for Bruiser’s hand, and Bruiser wrapped the boy’s small hand in his big one. His encouraging smile held nothing but kindness and concern.
Mac stood next to them, staring from one to the other. Bruiser obliterated her remaining misconceptions of him as thoroughly as a china teacup run over by a bulldozer.
Elliot looked up at Mac. “Will you hold my hand too?”
“I will.”
Together the three of them walked into the hotel, hand in hand as if they were a family, which was both weird and wonderful.
* * * * *
An hour later, Bruiser stood in the corner of the huge ballroom decorated with all sorts of shiny crap. Several of his teammates debated the merits of play-action versus West Coast offenses. Bruiser only half-listened. His gaze kept straying to Mac and Elliot, halfway across the room, holding court with three defensive rookies. He’d never seen the kid smile so much. Mac and the guys carried on an animated conversation with him, obviously including several jokes. Hopefully PG-rated, but Bruiser doubted it. Mac could tell off-color jokes with the best of them.
The rookies paid no mind to Elliot’s appearance, but they sure as hell paid attention to Mac’s appearance, flirting with her, touching her, pretty much moving in on his territory.
Well, not really his territory, but he didn’t like them hassling Mac.
He turned to Zach, not caring that he was interrupting Zach and Harris’s current debate. “Hey, get your boys in line. They’re pestering Mac.”
Zach frowned, looking puzzled. He glanced around the room and spotted the rookies. “She looks like she’s having a great time to me.”
“Yeah, unlike you.” Harris never missed one damn fucking thing on or off the field. The guy had eyes like a bald eagle bearing down on a mouse in a clearing. “You’ve been watching her all night long. Like what you see, Bruiser?”
“It’s nothing like that. Not a damn thing like that.”
Every one of the assholes started laughing at him. Bruiser hated being laughed at as badly as he hated fumbling the ball after a first down. “Fuck you, Harris.”
“If that’s an invitation, sorry, buddy, you’re not my type. I prefer Lavender.”
Bruiser rolled his eyes while the other guys chuckled, enjoying a good laugh at his expense. Ignoring the idiots’ catcalls, he made a beeline for Mac only to have Veronica block his path.
“Going somewhere, Bruce?” Her conniving smile told him more than he needed to know. She’d also noticed his preoccupation with Mac.
“Just to check on Mac. Those dipshits are bothering her.”
Veronica glanced at Mac, then refocused her sharp gaze on Bruiser. “You came with her, didn’t you?”
“Uh, yeah, just friends.”
“Then why are you so jealous you’re ready to knock some rookies’ heads together?” Veronica was as astute as Harris, which didn’t give Bruiser much of a chance.
“I’m protective. Like a big brother.” He grinned his most innocent grin.
Veronica rolled her perfectly made-up eyes. “And I’m naïve like an Amish girl.”
Bruiser chuckled at the thought of Veronica dressed like an Amish woman until the look of death—his—crossed her face. He quickly shut his mouth. He wasn’t helping Mac’s cause by needling Veronica, so he stepped around her accusations like the minefield they were and directed the conversation to the reason he’d brought Mac here in the first place.
“You should spend some time with Mac. She’s well-deserving of that scholarship.”
“More than Vince?”
“Definitely more than Vince. You value my opinion, right?” Bruiser looked over Veronica’s shoulder. His mouth tightened into a grim line when a rookie defensive back put his arm across Mac’s shoulders.
“Not when you’re sleeping with her.” Veronica’s no-bullshit glare tested his acting skills, but his innocent grin didn’t seem to earn any points with her.
“Mac and me? She’s like a sister.”
“Yeah, and I’m like a nun.”
“You’re full of one-liners tonight. Seem a little tense. Maybe you need to call one of your boy toys and get laid.”
“Maybe you need to be laying off—not on—my employees.”
“I’m not. I swear.” He smiled at her with fake sincerity, shaking his head vigorously.
Veronica squinted at him, obviously not buying his bullshit. “I saved seats at my table for you, Elliot, and your sister.”
“Come on, Ronnie. Mac deserves that scholarship. No one works harder than she does, and she only has two years left to finish her degree.”
Veronica waved at some tuxedoed businessman across the room and left Bruiser wondering how big of a hole he’d dug for himself.
And Mac.
But first he had some rookie heads to knock together.
* * * * *
Mac seated herself across from Bruiser and Elliot. Veronica slid into the chair next to her.
Rather than making Mac the prey of the evening, Veronica actually played nice, which Mac figured might have more to do with the way Bruiser glared at her than any personal interest in Mac.
Bruiser chatted up Veronica and the other guests, always careful to include Elliot, entertaining them with stories of his exploits.
Elliot stared at Bruiser like a kid worshipping his big brother and hung on his every word. She’d never expected the pretty boy to have such an affinity for kids with disabilities, especially when the camera wasn’t on him. Yet as the night wore on, Bruiser protected Elliot while encouraging him to socialize, and nothing about his actions appeared the least bit self-serving.
But what the hell did she know about Bruiser other than he was damn good in bed, had a dead brother he refused to talk about, and loved attention? A public person on
