Bruiser sucked in a sharp breath like someone had punched him in the gut. Unwelcome memories of another time slammed into him. How the hell did this kid who’d only known him a few weeks see him more clearly than family and friends who’d known him for years?
Thank God Elliot’s nurse walked in and interrupted the conversation. Bruiser excused himself and got the hell out of there.
The truth hurt like a hammer to the head, and he damn well didn’t want to face it.
Chapter 6—Tackled for a Loss
A sexy angel answered the door of the little bungalow, and Bruiser’s tongue rooted itself to the roof of his mouth while his brain forgot his name. Holy shit, Mac never mentioned a sister, and a really freaking hot sister at that.
Shoving his shock out of the way, he lowered his voice and slipped into full seduction mode. “Hey, gorgeous.” Skipping her face, his gaze ran down the woman’s elegant neck and nestled in the ample cleavage of a tight, sequined pink dress, right where he wished his hands could settle on two healthy mounds of incredible tits. Bruiser swallowed and tried to force a few clever words out of his mouth. None came. Not a one. This never happened to him. So much for seduction mode. Try dumb-shit mode instead.
“Hey,” she said right back in a sexy, breathy voice.
Bruiser just stared. Damn, it wasn’t like he hadn’t been around tons of hot women, but there was something about this one. She seemed so guileless, so innocent, almost like she didn’t have a fucking clue what a knockout she was. In his world, that was damn near incredible. An angel with the heart of a seductress. His type of woman.
The babe turned around and grabbed a frothy pink shawl-type thing, giving Bruiser an incredible view of a nicely rounded ass. He cleared his throat and swallowed. His fingers itched to stroke that ass then give it a firm smack.
“Okay, I’m ready, but I feel seriously overdressed for the middle of the afternoon.” She turned back around.
“You’re ready?” He blinked and tried to process this hunk of information.
She smiled, a big, bad, sassy Mac smile.
Bruiser did a double take. His jaw dropped open so far it almost came unhinged. “Mac? Is that you?”
“Hard to believe?” Her megawatt smile lit this side of the earth and gave a new reason for global warming. In fact, this particular corner of his world was experiencing a heat wave.
Bruiser nodded. “Like fucking hard to believe. Seriously, that’s you?” Even though his dick liked what it saw, part of Bruiser was weirdly disappointed.
Mac had been the only woman he knew who was not hung up on her appearance. Now she was like all the rest. He couldn’t explain how he could be so turned on and disillusioned at the same time, but he was. His cock wanted to get her naked, and his heart wanted the real, no-pretenses Mac, which was fucking dysfunctional on so many levels.
In a split second, her expression changed as if a cloud blocked out the sun. “Yes, really. It’s me. Who did you think it would be?”
“I thought you had a sister or something.”
“Nope, I’m the only female in my immediate family.” Mac picked up a little purse and took small, mincing steps toward him on some pretty-damn-sexy high heels.
He had to grin. Yup, this vision of loveliness was Mac after all. “Ever been in heels before?”
“Not if I could help it.”
“Hang on to me, baby. I’ll take you for a ride.” Bruiser held out his arm, and she grabbed hold as she attempted to walk. This was going to be a good night; he could feel it in his bones and his dick.
Okay, dumb shit, that’s no way to think about Mac. Hell, for all you know she could be gay. Most of the guys on the team speculated she was, and Bruiser never really gave it much thought one way or another. He sure as hell was giving it a lot of thought right now, hoping like hell Mac didn’t play for the home team. What the hell, he’d take Brett’s word for it.
Thinking of Brett gave him a stab of guilt. Bruiser really was a selfish bastard. Brett had a thing for Mac. A good buddy would further that relationship along, not think about himself. Besides, the last thing Mac needs is a guy like me. A nice, kind stable guy like Brett fit her like a comfortable pair of slippers, while Bruiser fit as well as those heels she wore—great for appearances but not the least bit practical in the long run.
He walked her out to his red and white 1958 Corvette, his baby. He only pulled her out of the garage for special occasions.
Mac gripped his arm tight as she stared at the car with greedy eyes. “This car is fucking incredible. You never told me you had a car like this.”
Bruiser shrugged, enjoying her pleasure in the car.
“I wanna see the engine.” Oh, yeah, pure Mac.
“Later. I’ll be fed to the steelhead in Lake Washington if you show up with grease on that dress. Your girlfriends are a formidable bunch.”
“We can’t let that happen—to the fish.”
He chuckled. “Kelsie scares the crap out of me. She can be all kinds of serious scary.”
“She scares me too.” He felt her gaze on his face. “You know about fish?”
He shrugged one shoulder. Only Brett knew that he liked to fish. “You’d be surprised what I know about.”
She didn’t look convinced as Bruiser helped her in the car. She pulled lipstick from her purse and carefully applied it, dabbing at a smear on one corner of her mouth. Bruiser stared at her full red lips and forgot to drive. His pants felt two sizes too small and his cock two sizes too big. He swerved just in time to miss a street sign.
“Been driving long?”
He let out a long breath and stared straight ahead, embarrassed as hell. “You think?”
“I think you’re behaving strangely. I don’t look that different.”
He snorted, unable to come up with any other response.
* * * * *
Mac forced her eyes straight ahead when all she wanted to do was stare at Bruiser in that tux. His broad shoulders filled it out just right. There couldn’t be another man on earth who did justice to a tux like Bruiser did. But then, Bruiser did justice to just about anything, including a well-worn pair of jeans.
He glanced at her, catching her ogling him. “Amazed by my raw sexuality?”
Mac bit back an unladylike response and distracted him with the first thing that came to mind. “Your family isn’t quite what I expected.”
By the way Bruiser’s face hardened, she’d picked the wrong subject and stepped into a big pile of shit and, so typical of her, she trudged right on through it. Yeah, don’t heed the warning signs, just dig yourself a grave-sized hole. “I mean, they’re nice enough.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself. Everyone says that.” Bruiser’s smile idled on his face, motor running but no power behind it. His eyes had turned a cold stone gray.
“How come this is the first time I’ve met them? In fact, I thought your parents didn’t live anywhere around here.”
“My father doesn’t. He’s in LA.” Bruiser’s jaw tightened, and he stared straight ahead.
“They’re divorced?” She just didn’t know when to shut up. Never been one of her special skills.
“Like a dozen times between the two of them.”
“Oh, wow.” Mac shook her head in surprise.
“Yeah, wow. You can see why I have no respect for marriage. It’s a crock.”
“I understand why you’d see it that way. Do you only have a sister?”
“I had a brother too,” he said in an emotionless voice, his closed expression not inviting further questions. A muscle jerked in his strong jaw. She’d inadvertently hit another sore subject, actually beyond sore—an open, gaping wound.
A brother? She’d never heard that before. Yet he’d said had, as if his brother no longer existed. Maybe they were estranged. Or something happened to him. Something Bruiser very obviously didn’t want to discuss. Tons of questions raced through her mind, but for once, she curbed her nosiness. Everyone had private pain. She sh
ould know that better than anyone.
Mac cranked up the Mariners game, but she couldn’t have stated the score if her life depended on it. Bruiser didn’t speak again, seeming to be lost in his own thoughts, and thanks to her big mouth, they didn’t appear to be pleasant ones.
Time ground to a turtle’s pace as they made the short trip to the Simms family’s Lake Washington home. Bruiser maneuvered his ’Vette around dozens of parked cars along the long driveway and pulled up to the grand front entry, tossed his keys to a valet, and strode around the car to the passenger door. Mac waited patiently while he swept the door open, not because she was trying to be a lady but because she didn’t dare walk without clinging to his arm. He held out his hand, and she took it. The heat from his large, warm palm rocketed through her body like a missile finding its mark and detonating, engulfing everything in its path, including her heart and her common sense as she shuddered in reaction.
“Cold?” He angled his head at her, looking damned irresistible from the cleft in his chin to the way a lock of golden hair fell across his forehead. His expression softened and his mouth tipped up at the corners in one of his signature smiles.
“Just caught a cool breeze for a second,” she lied.
He looked skeptical but said nothing. After all, it was at least eighty degrees. Instead, he tucked her hand in his forearm and led her to the huge front porch, which looked like it should be the entrance to a five-star hotel, not a single-family dwelling. Mac took a moment to appreciate the landscaping and rare plants flanking the entry. The place was a regular arboretum. The Simms had to employ a full-time gardener.
Mac glanced up at Bruiser and put on a brave face. He grinned and winked at her, the familiar, charming Bruiser taking over. “You’re gonna knock ’em dead, Mac. Just smile and let me do the talking. Veronica will know exactly who you are by the night’s end.”
“I hope that’s a good thing.”
“Of course it is. Trust me.”
She wanted to trust him, wanted to believe he could wave his magic wand and transform her into Veronica’s idea of a scholarship-worthy employee, but she wasn’t convinced even Bruiser was that good.
Mac clung to him as they entered the house, taking in the sights and smells of the party. They paused in the doorway, and she closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself to play the part she looked, a part she oddly somewhat liked—except for the heels. A stranger had invaded her body, a stranger who liked pink, ordered a double macchiato with caramel, and haunted downtown Seattle in search of her next pair of Jimmy Choos. Not that any of those things were true about her, but hey, she almost felt as if they could be. In some really weird way, she wanted to be that girl once in a while and do girly things. Was that too much to ask?
Mac placed one foot in front of the other with careful precision, attempting to walk like a girl and not a gorilla, but it wasn’t easy. Drill Sergeant Kelsie’s words played through her brain: Stand up straight, shoulders back, head up, and smile, smile, smile like you’re on the red carpet at a world premiere.
A servant in a black suit with an English accent ushered them to the back of the house, where a tiered deck ran the entire length of the mansion. An emerald-green lawn sloped down to a pebbly, low-bank beach where the lazy waters of Lake Washington lapped at the shore. The late-afternoon sun warmed the breeze coming in from the water, and a yacht large enough to house its own football stadium was tied at the end of a long dock. Over to one side, a slate path led through a garden awash with flowers and shrubs, complete with a bubbling waterfall. And roses, lots of roses in a rainbow of colors, lined the meandering path.
Bruiser nudged her. “Hey, what’s going on in that head of yours?”
“I’ve never seen such gorgeous gardens.”
“Well, Simms is worth billions. He can afford it. They probably have an entire crew of gardeners.”
“Yeah, I’m sure they do.”
Mac glanced over at the She-Wolves, who stood sharpening their claws and sipping wine with their men, the poor bastards. They gave her the thumbs-up, causing Derek, Tyler, and Zach to turn and look. Zach saluted her and Tyler shot her a cocky grin, while Derek gave her an approving smile. Mac relaxed a little. Obviously, she’d passed muster.
Veronica glided up to them as smoothly as a figure skater and hugged Bruiser with more warmth than Mac ever thought she could possess. Then she turned to Mac. Her brow furrowed, her frown deepened, bringing out wrinkles around the corners of her perfect lips. “I think we’ve met before, but I can’t place you.” She looked Mac up and down, as if she were looking over a piece of horseflesh at an auction.
“I’m Mackenzie Hernandez.” Mac held out her hand hoping a handshake would be appropriate.
Veronica shook her hand and continued to study her. “Mackenzie Hernandez?”
“I’m a groundskeeper at Steelheads’ headquarters.”
“Oh, that’s where I’ve seen you. You didn’t look quite the same.” She peered at Mac again, then dismissed her and turned her attention on Bruiser. He tried to steer the conversation back to Mac several times, but Veronica wasn’t having any of it. She had great plans for a promo spot with Bruiser, and Mac was just an inconvenience she chose to ignore. The more Veronica drank, the more she hung on Bruiser’s arm.
“Veronica, Mackenzie was admiring your landscaping.” Bruiser subtly extracted himself from the woman’s grip and tucked Mac’s hand in his. His big hand felt warm and comforting surrounding her smaller hand and gave her confidence.
Mac jumped at the lead-in Bruiser gave her. “I love your wisteria arbor. That color isn’t one I’ve seen before.”
Veronica looked at her as if she were nuts. “That’s my mother’s job. She’s in charge of the gardens. I have no interest in them.”
Bruiser gave Mac one of those looks that she interpreted as don’t worry about her. “Well, Mac has two years toward her horticulture degree at the UW.”
For the first time Veronica perked up. “What house were you in?”
“House?”
“Sorority.”
“Oh, I wasn’t in one.” Strike three. Mac didn’t even go down swinging.
“I see.” Veronica looked over her head and waved at someone. “I must be off to my guests. Bruce, do think about what we’ve discussed and get back to me within a few days.”
“Yeah, sure.”
With that she flitted off.
“I tried.” He gave her a shrug. His blue-gray eyes were apologetic.
“I know. Thanks for the effort.” She leaned into him slightly as he stared down at her. Her heart pitter-patted with gratitude. Bruiser Mackey wasn’t such a bad guy after all.
“She’s a self-centered bitch.” Bruiser flicked his gaze to Veronica and back to Mac.
“Try entitled, self-centered bitch.”
He smiled. “That too. We aren’t done with her yet.” His crooked smile gave him a boyish look. The man was so outrageously handsome. No guy should be that good-looking. She was going to enjoy this night while it lasted. Cinderella at the ball with Prince Charming and all that.
Only there was no glass slipper, and her Prince Charming wasn’t looking for a happily ever after. Or anything beyond a one-night stand, and not with Mac. She’d fallen for the most impossible guy in the world.
That’s what made him safe.
* * * * *
Tyler finished his joke with his usual asshole panache, sending the crowd of people into raucous laughter. Bruiser faked it, even though he had no flipping clue what the punch line had been. The attention-whore quarterback had been entertaining the troops for about a half hour, thoroughly enjoying himself. Usually Bruiser vied for the center of attention along with Harris, but not tonight. He had a, uh, distraction.
Mac stood with Kelsie, Rachel, and Lavender, looking like a woman plotting her escape from tyrants. He would know; he’d hardly taken his eyes off her the entire evening. Something about this version of Mac did it for his dick. Or had he been in denial for a w
hile now? After all, he’d been having these erotic daydreams about her for the past couple weeks way before this makeover. He couldn’t quite put his finger on when he started seeing her as a woman, not just a buddy. But he had and now he couldn’t let the images go.
Shit.
He didn’t date women he worked with. The added complication made the inevitable breakup way too messy. Bruiser liked to keep his breakups quick, tidy, and amicable. Not only did this weird attraction to Mac not work for him on so many levels, it wouldn’t work for her. Brett was interested in her. Brett, the only true friend he really had.
Dammit.
Even so…
What harm could one little dance do?
A band started playing as a deep-red sun set to the west. Colored lights lit up as darkness settled, the alcohol flowed freely, and the party showed no signs of stopping.
Despite his best intentions, Bruiser found himself drawn to Mac’s side. At five foot eleven, Bruiser wasn’t tall, but Mac was only five three or four. She made him feel like a big guy. He liked that a lot more than all those models he dated. A guy’s ego could take a hit when he had to look up at a woman.
Mac glanced up at him through lowered lashes as he stepped up beside her, in an oddly feminine display of shyness. The relief in her brown eyes sent satisfaction surging through him. She’d missed him at her side, or those three friends of hers were just that scary. Either way, he’d take it.
He smiled down at her, and she smiled back. His stomach did a triple axel with a twist, leaving him fighting to breathe. Women did not affect him this way unless it had to do with sex. He couldn’t quantify his feelings for Mac; they were different and not going in a direction he intended to travel. It would be smart to fake some sudden illness and get the hell out of here, but he wasn’t that smart.
Next thing he knew, his mouth took over for his brain, while his heart and his dick applauded. “Excuse me, ladies, but I’d like to take a whirl on the dance floor with the most beautiful woman in the room.” Before her friends reacted and Mac could shoot him down, he grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the dance floor.
Draw Play: The Originals (Seattle Steelheads Book 4) Page 6