his sexy voice, and entertained the group with some outrageous tale about hang gliding off California cliffs.
Mac sighed and plopped into a chair next to Brett, the Steelheads’ quiet backup quarterback and a bit of an enigma. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she looked away. Brett saw everything but never said much. She felt his eyes on her and knew he was reading her like an open book. Squirming slightly, she finally met his gaze and prayed nothing on her face gave away her weakness.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she quipped.
Brett didn’t back down, didn’t even blink. “What’s got your tail in a knot?”
Mac glanced around the table. Derek and Bruiser discussed the holes in the Mariners’ pitching staff. Tyler and Zach engaged in a good-natured pissing contest over whether the offense or defense would win more games for the team in the upcoming season. No one paid Mac and Brett any attention.
“I have a problem.” Mac scowled and drew rings on the table with her beer glass.
“Yeah?” Brett leaned forward.
“Yeah. I need to be more visible to management, especially Veronica, if I want a chance at the Steelheads’ employee scholarship.”
“Makes sense. But how?”
“I need to be seen as more than the person who mows the grass.”
“Hey, you keep all the plants healthy, too, even the finicky ones.” Brett shot her a rare grin, his pale blue eyes twinkling. Mac smiled back at him. There were times when she almost suspected Brett had a crush on her, which seemed outrageous. Regardless, the reclusive backup quarterback never acted on his feelings.
“I need to be seen in a more professional light by Veronica.”
“Good luck with that. She hates everybody but Bruiser. He’s her poster boy for a football player.” Brett snorted, as if he found this little fact highly amusing.
“I know.”
“So, what’s your plan?”
“I need to go to that damn barbecue, for starters.”
“Well then, go.” Brett always had a simple, direct answer for everything.
Mac’s face heated. How did a girl explain that she didn’t know how to be a girl? In her typical Mac way, she just spit it out. “I don’t know what to wear and all that crap.”
“Lavender can help with that.” Tyler inserted himself into the conversation. “She lives to shop. At least, that’s what my credit card says.”
Mac jumped, unaware she’d caught the attention of the other guys at the table. Just fucking wonderful, as if this whole thing weren’t humiliating enough. She turned to Tyler, unable to keep annoyance out of her voice. “We were having a private conversation.”
“Yeah, Mac, whatever.” Tyler rolled his eyes. “It’s not like your voice doesn’t carry.”
“Great. So, I’m not just an inept dresser, I’m a big mouth.”
“You could tone it down a little,” Zach added with an apologetic shrug.
Mac crossed her arms over her chest and gazed around the table. “This is as toned down as it gets.”
“Like I said, I’ll have Lavender call you.”
“Rachel is great at shopping on budget,” Derek offered.
“Kelsie can help too. If she cleaned me up, she can do it for anyone.” Zach ducked his head, as if realizing what he’d just said. “Not that you need cleaning up. You look great as you are.”
Mac stared at her ragged fingernails. Maybe she did need a little help.
“Give me your number. We’ll have the women get in touch with you.” Tyler could be as bossy as Mac’s cranky, geriatric cat.
With a heavy sigh, Mac wrote her number on a napkin and passed it to Tyler. Working to gather her courage for one final request, she chewed on her lower lip and stared at a framed painting of dogs playing poker hanging crookedly on the opposite wall. The bulldog was cheating.
Mac looked back at the guys and cleared her throat. “I need one more thing. An escort to this barbecue.”
For a moment, silence reigned around the table. She caught the quick glances from one guy to another and wanted to crawl under the table.
“I’m taking my wife, or I’d be glad to do it,” Zach said.
“Me too.”
“I might as well have a wife. I’m taking Lavender.”
“When are you going to marry her?” Derek 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