Draw Play - Jami Davenport Page 0,3

in luck. I’m at loose ends tonight. How about we get a burger at that place down the road?”

“You buying?” Mac slipped into her usual buddy mode, knowing that’s all she was to Bruiser and being pathetic enough to play her part.

* * * * *

A few minutes later, Bruiser slid into a booth across from Mac. He pulled a ball cap over his head to avoid being recognized, not that it helped. People still stared. He ignored their stares and took a long pull off his beer.

“So, little lady, how goes the battle?”

“Same old, same old,” Mac muttered.

Something seemed to be stuck in her craw. She never put on pretenses; what you saw was what you got. Sometimes he envied her ability to be who she was and not give a damn what others thought, while he spent way too much time worrying about others’ expectations and how he measured up. Chalk up that particular issue to a father who made it clear Bruiser never measured up and a mother and sister who believed appearances weren’t everything—they were the only thing.

He admired Mac. She didn’t dress or behave to please anyone but herself—a rare trait in a woman. But Mac was no ordinary woman.

As if reading his mind, Mac stared across the table at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans.”

“Pretty awesome, huh?” He glanced at her baggy sweatshirt with horse snot on it. Mac never cared about that crap. She was who she was. She carried off this earthy sexiness that put other women to shame with their fake faces and fake boobs.

“You’re an awesome pain in the butt.”

Bruiser threw back his head and laughed. “Mac, you’re a hoot.”

“I don’t see what’s so funny.”

“You should’ve been born a guy.”

“You’re not the first person who’s said that.” She shrugged and looked away, almost as if he’d hurt her feelings. He shook off that outrageous thought. Mac was the toughest woman he knew.

Bruiser leaned back in the booth and grinned. He liked Mac, really liked her. She was such an exact opposite of the other women in his life, and he found her straightforward honesty refreshing. Besides, he knew a kindred spirit when it tackled him to the ground.

Oh, yeah, Bruiser recognized it—the pain that hid behind the false smile and sparkling eyes. Yeah, he recognized it because he had the same dull pain himself, the one that never went away and at times became a sharp stab to the gut. No one saw it but his best buddy on the team, Brett Gunnels. Not his parents. Not his closest friends. Only kindred spirits saw the mutual burden of guilt carried by another.

Apparently, Mac battled similar demons. Bruiser had heard things from the guys, but he didn’t know the details. He could probably search for them, but he kept his nose out of other peoples’ business, expecting them to do the same.

“How’re things going at work? Vince giving you any more shit?”

“I can handle that tool.” She focused her full attention to the TV showing the Mariners game. Bruiser made a point not to pry and let it drop. When she glanced back at him, their gazes met. A strange little curling sensation tickled his stomach lining, almost like the first stage of desire. Yet even as he tried to drag his gaze away, he couldn’t, like an elk caught in the crosshairs of a hunter’s rifle, knowing he was going down but not able to save himself.

What the hell? Desire? For Mac? Fuck, he didn’t even know if she dated guys or girls. He must be losing it. Yet some primal instinct insisted a passionate woman lurked beneath all those baggy clothes and that tough-girl facade. And he knew this how? He wasn’t sure, but his mind flashed to a vivid vision of Mac, naked and straddling him, taking him deep, then pounding up and down on him until he damn near reached insanity.

Him and Mac? Hooking up like two sex-starved teenagers? Crap. Bruiser scrubbed his hands over his face.

“Are you okay?”

He glanced up with a guilty start. “I’m awesome. Remember?”

She smiled, and it changed her, made her look softer, more feminine. Funny how he’d never noticed what a knockout smile she had, but she didn’t smile much. His dick noticed, too, and pressed against the fly of his jeans almost painfully. He shifted his ass but couldn’t find a position that gave him any relief. Well, there was one position, but that wasn’t going to