Backfield in Motion (21 page)

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. “So 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 rundown neighborhood of
lookalike seventies-era houses. Children’s toys littered the
dandelion-filled front lawn, and rhodies grew wild next to the
house, obscuring the windows. Mac noticed stuff like that, but then
she was into landscaping.

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 Jacks 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 ears off about several different classics, Tom Sawyer being
one of his favorites, until they pulled up to valet parking at the
hotel hosting the charity auction. He clamped his mouth shut and
hunched over, hugging himself.

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
look 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’ cat calls, 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 yawned, obviously bored with the
subject matter. She 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, surprised when 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
had 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 the surface,
the real Bruiser was as elusive and private as a hermit. She didn’t
know the Bruiser behind his public mask any more than she knew
where her brother’s body was buried.

When the program started, Bruiser walked up
front and took the podium. He talked knowledgeably about the
Cascade Burn Foundation and the important work they were doing. He
related an emotional tale of a teenager whose life went from
storybook to horror story in a matter of seconds—the long
surgeries, the pain, and the shame of being disfigured—followed by
a slideshow of kids in various stages of recovery from serious
burns.

By the time the pretty boy was done, even
tough-guy Zach Murphy—a known tightwad—wiped his eyes and pulled
out his wallet as the bidding began for the charity auction.

Bruiser actively bid on several expensive
items. He was the highest bidder on a few, but he sure as hell
drove up the bids on others. Veronica opened her purse, too,
participating in a spirited bidding war with Bruiser and Tyler for
Mariners’ luxury suite tickets. Bruiser won, but he spent some big
bucks to do it—ten times what the tickets were worth.

Afterward, an exhausted Elliot fell asleep
in the backseat. Mac waited in the car while Bruiser carefully
carried him into his foster family’s house. She rubbed a hand over
her heart, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth at
this glimpse of Bruiser’s tender side. When he came back out, she
saw a different man. Yeah, she still saw his raw male beauty,
handsome face, and muscles on muscles, but she also saw a generous,
caring man who looked beyond a child’s imperfections and worked to
heal his heart. Despite being labeled superficial and shallow, the
real Bruiser beyond the slick underwear ads and hard-hitting
football player had shattered the mold Mac and everyone else put
him in tonight.

The big question was why did he hide this
crucial part of who he was? Mac wanted to know, needed to know
that
Bruiser. But to know him like that required their
relationship to move to a different level—a level Bruiser had
already stated was off-limits.

Bruiser cast a melancholy smile in her
direction as he got in the SUV. He pulled out of the driveway and
steered toward the freeway. Mac studied his strong profile with
that cleft in his chin, those chiseled features so perfect and
flawless he could’ve been carved by a master’s hand. But to her the
real person, with his flaws and weaknesses, was more beautiful and
perfect than his outward appearance.

Bruiser shot a quick glance at her, catching
her gawking at him. His mouth kicked up in his half smile. “Awed by
my absolute awesomeness again, are you?”

Mac smiled back, picking up the teasing
banter. “You’re a legend in your own mind.”

“Elliot likes you.” He sobered a little. Mac
got the distinct feeling it was important to him that she got along
with Elliot.