Draw Play: The Originals (Seattle Steelheads Book 4)
challenged Tyler, who also happened to be his cousin.“I don’t do marriage. We’re a couple. She knows that.” Tyler tipped his chair back on two legs and chewed on a straw. His attempt to look nonchalant didn’t fool Mac. Marriage gave the guy claustrophobia.
“Oh, man, you’re in deep shit, Harris. You’d better put a ring on that girl’s finger before she kicks your dumb-shit ass to the curb.” Zach grinned at his friend, obviously enjoying the quarterback’s discomfort.
“She knows a good thing when she sees it.” Tyler’s chair slammed to the ground, and he oozed complacent arrogance. Mac doubted Lavender was nearly as complacent about their situation.
“I bet she knows a hopeless cause when she sees one too.” Zach howled with laughter, and the rest joined in.
“No way in fucking hell am I marrying. You guys can live with a ball and chain, but not this guy.”
“Hey, we’re talking about Mac here.” Brett steered the conversation back to her. “I’d love to take you, but I’m out of town that weekend.” Regret burrowed lines on his face, as if he really did want to take her.
A couple other single guys offered up their excuses. Mac gripped the edge of the table to stop herself from sinking under it while dying a slow death from embarrassment. None of them wanted to be seen with the woman who was plain as a bagel without cream cheese.
Mac smelled like fresh dirt and mowed grass, not expensive perfume. She cut her own hair when it got too long. She didn’t own a dress or makeup beyond an old tube of pink lipstick and grocery store mascara. Yeah, guys like these didn’t take out girls like her, even as a favor. Even worse, only one guy in this room interested her, and he’d never offer. Not the pretty boy who only did what benefitted Bruiser.
“Bruiser, Veronica thinks you’re God’s gift to the fucking NFL. It’d be a big advantage to Mac if you took her.” Brett had read Mac’s mind. Oh, lord, not Bruiser. No, no, no.
“Yeah, Bruiser, that’s perfect. Veronica salivates every time you get near her just thinking about the different ways she can use you to promote the team.” Derek winked at Mac, but she didn’t wink back. She was too busy resurrecting her pride, yet none of these assholes seemed to give a shit about her discomfort.
“Yeah, like the Men of the NFL calendar. What were you, Mr. July?”
“August,” Bruiser growled, as if irritated that he even remembered the month. “Just for the record, my relationship with Veronica is purely business.”
“Nobody’s saying it isn’t,” Zach pointed out.
“So, it’s a done deal. You’ll take Mac.” Tyler lifted his beer in a toast.
Bruiser hesitated for a brief moment, just long enough to telegraph to Mac that he didn’t really want to take her. “I’d love to take you, honey.” His mouth tipped up in that sexy smile of his. This was no big deal to him, while it was everything to Mac, on so many levels.
Mac slipped her hands under the table and clenched them together to cover up the shaking. Invisible fingers wrapped around her throat, rendering her unable to speak. Hell, breathing was a big enough chore.
Her and Bruiser? On a date? Even if it was a fake one. A pity date. She knew her mouth was opening and closing like a newscaster with a broken teleprompter. Tyler’s mouth kicked up in a knowing smile. When the jerk nudged his cousin, she kicked her vocal cords into operation. “I—I don’t think—”
“It’s settled.” Tyler smirked at her, as if she weren’t fooling him one damn bit, and reached for the pitcher of beer, draining it. “Who’s buying the next round?”
Mac sat back in her chair and resisted the urge to bite off what was left of her fingernails. Everything was far from settled, especially her wildly beating heart. She shot a glance at Bruiser, who wasn’t even paying any attention to her. Taking her to the barbecue was the equivalent of a mercy date. Bruiser could flirt with her, but she didn’t even register on his radar as a woman. Unless Kelsie and company could work a major miracle.
But did she want to register on his radar? Where the hell would that get her?
Most likely nowhere good.
* * * * *
Bruiser hated being played, and the guys had just played him. Big-time. He waited until Mac and the rest of his jerk-off teammates left the bar, then he turned on his former—as of a few minutes ago—best friend. “Why the fuck did you suggest I take Mac?”
“You didn’t have to say yes.”
“Yeah, you pricks backed me into a corner. I couldn’t turn her down without hurting her feelings.”
“Do you care? About her feelings, that is?”
“Yeah, I do. Surprised? I like Mac.” Bruiser was pissed and out of sorts, which probably had something to do with his recurrent fantasies about Mac riding him for all he was worth into one mind-altering orgasm after another. Shit, he’d been trying to squelch those particular visions for the past week by dating a different woman every night. And each night, instead of taking Ms. Anonymous home and banging her brains out, he dropped them off and left. Visions of Mac’s pretty brown eyes and toned, athletic body moving underneath his had driven away his desire for anyone else.
God, he needed to get a grip. Bruiser rubbed his eyes with his fists.
“Everyone likes Mac.” Brett ground his teeth together, obviously misinterpreting Bruiser’s attitude as not wanting to take Mac out.
Feeling oddly weary, Bruiser leaned his elbows on the table, rested his chin in his palms, and looked up. “Not as much as you do. Why don’t you ask her out?” Maybe that’d solve his current preoccupation. He didn’t mess with another man’s woman. Ever. If he could get these two damaged souls together, he could go back to his normal life of meaningless, recreational sex and superficial friendships.
“I don’t know. She probably wouldn’t go.” Brett took a