10

Madeline nodded slowly. “You make sure he keeps icing his jaw, Max. And call if he gets sick or anything. I’m not sure I trust that he’d have told the doctor the truth about headaches or anything else. He goes straight to the hospital if there are any symptoms of a concussion.”

“Yes, ma’am. No question about that.” Perron flashed Madeline a broad smile, bringing out his full Texan charm. “I reckon he’s just smartin’ from lettin’ Deek get off a few punches, but I don’t trust him either. I was stupid like him at his age.”

“You’re what, five years older than me?” White grumbled as Perron brought the ice pack back to his cheek. “Gimme that, I can do it.”

“Then do it so Miss Madeline won’t have to fuss over you no more.”

“Good night, boys.” Tim gently steered Madeline toward the door, sure she’d turn around and demand to stay even after they reached the elevator. They passed through the lobby and stepped out onto the street where the cool night air toyed with the tendrils framing her face and a slight, wistful smile played at her lips. He’d stopped worrying about White as soon as he’d seen the kid was well enough to continue with his matchmaking efforts, but maybe Madeline didn’t feel the same.

She noticed him watching her and let out a soft laugh. “In case you’re wondering, I’m fine leaving him to his teammate. They’re good boys; they’ll take care of each other. I’m missing my own brothers, and Ian’s getting all the coddling I can’t do for them.”

“Do you get to see them often?” Tim slid his hand down her wrist, lacing their fingers together as they crossed the street. On a Wednesday night the Crescent bar shouldn’t be crowded, but there were quite a few people milling around the terrace and the music was louder than the last time he’d been here. They might not be able to hear each other even side by side at a small table.

This date wasn’t going at all as he’d planned.

She squeezed his hand and slowed close to the open door of the bar. “A few times a year, but it’s better that way. They’re sowing their wild oats and aren’t too keen on their big sister cramping their style.”

No resentment in her words. Actually, she sounded a bit relieved.

Laughing, she led the way into the bar, raising her voice as she wove through the crowd with practiced ease. “You can only say ‘Well, bless your heart’ to your own blood so many times before you start wondering if you’re gonna catch their stupid. I love them, and I know they’ll be all right when they grow up a bit, but I have my own life to live. It took getting away from the drama before I realized how exhausting keeping up with it was!”

Tim nodded, not so much because he understood the drama—Mom didn’t tolerate that kind of nonsense when their large family got together—but he’d had to take a few steps back from hopeless situations. During Dean’s dysfunctional marriage there had been times Tim’s inability to help his brother left him feeling drained and useless. When he could finally do some good, like letting his niece Jami stay with him while Dean was swamped with work, his relationship with his brother had improved.

“You obviously aren’t as big on sharing family secrets as I am, so why don’t we discuss the matter at hand.” Madeline hopped up on a barstool like an eager girl, flashing him another of her challenging smiles before addressing the bartender. “This man seems to think your beer will make me rethink my preference for foreign lager. Please start me with your best local brew.”

The bartender, a man their age with a shiny bald head and pale eyebrows, smiled at her, completely charmed. After determining whether she preferred a light beer or a dark malt, he fetched two heavy glass mugs and a bottle of Kentucky Brunch. “Lady, I think you’ll like this one.”

For the next few hours they tried all Tim’s favorite beers and several he’d never had before but sampled on recommendation from the bartender. The foreign brews Madeline asked for were rich and full-bodied, some better than anything he’d ever tried before, but the real win was Madeline admitting at the end, in a slightly slurred tone, that he had good taste.

Warmth filled him with her approval, along with the alcohol in his blood, and he laughed out loud as they strolled down the street. He wasn’t trying to be cocky or anything, he was just…so damn happy. He couldn’t remember the last time a date hadn’t felt like a job interview he was trying to pass. With Madeline, it hadn’t even felt like a date. They were simply together, enjoying one another, with nowhere else they wanted to be.

He wanted more time like this, more time with her. The sky lightening reminded him that they’d be back on the plane in a few hours. She’d leave with them, but after that…He had no idea where she lived. Or even how long she stayed in any one place.

These were things he should have asked her already. Instead, he had to start thinking about getting her to her hotel. And going back to his. They both needed to sleep. One day off before two games at home and Coach Paul would probably want to schedule a team practice.