7

Tim straightened his tie as he held open the door to his rental car for Madeline outside of her hotel, arching his brow at the small, black plastic box on top of the pillow in her arms. She looked adorably flustered, her hair pulled back into a soft ponytail, tendrils framing her face—which he was pleased to see was free of makeup except for a light peach lip gloss and maybe some mascara. Her cheeks were pink, but he had a feeling that was natural.

“I’m sorry, my mother called about some trouble my youngest brother got into. It looks like I’m going to be an aunt again!” She shook her head as she slid into the passenger seat. “I completely lost track of time. Won’t take me long to finish mending the pillow, though.”

“In the car?” He held the box for her as she put on her seat belt. She nodded and he returned the box to her, then closed the door and found himself grinning like an idiot as he went around to the driver’s side. By the time he pulled the car out onto the road, she had a needle threaded and was making precise stitches that almost disappeared into the material.

Her focus on the task, the comfortable silence between them, had him taking the opportunity of every red light to just look at her. She was a refreshing change from the young women who hung around the team—those girls did nothing for him. The laugh lines around her lips, the sparkle in eyes that had seen the world, made her absolutely beautiful. This was a woman who’d lived, who knew what she wanted and wouldn’t be shy about telling him what that was.

Part of him still wondered if she wasn’t better suited to his brother, but Tim wouldn’t let old insecurities ruin a good night. His boys had won the game in overtime. Callahan was proving to be the ideal captain after only a few months in the position, his talent and natural leadership skills providing the team with all the direction they needed. White had dropped the gloves—big surprise there—when an overeager forward from the Panthers crashed the net. The fight had ended with White spitting blood and holding two teeth in his hand, but he’d won and earned the respect of his teammates. Not that most hadn’t respected him before, but they’d seen him as more of a hothead than anything. It was hard to stand behind a player who had a hair-trigger and got penalties for losing his cool. A man who made the other team think twice about targeting your star players? He was invaluable.

“Done!” Madeline put away the needle and ran her hand over the pillowcase as they pulled up in front of the hotel. “Would you give White a shout so he can come meet us? Then we can go have that beer. Did you have a particular place you’d like to go or would the hotel bar do?”

“If we stay here, the boys will likely join us. So it depends on how much time you’d like to spend with my entire team.” He got out of the car, handed the valet his keys, and texted White as he joined Madeline on the sidewalk. “There’s a bar within walking distance with a live band that plays rock classics. I usually go there every time I’m in Miami, but it’s not the type of place the guys like to hang out.”

“Sounds nice.” She shot him a playful look when he raised his brows at her. “And no, I don’t mean boring. Do they serve any good imports or just weak local brews?”

This woman is something else. He laughed and put his hand on the small of her back as he opened the front door to the hotel for her. “They have some pretty incredible local brews. If by local, you mean American?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“What makes you think only foreign beers are good? I’ll assume you’re not saying that just to sound like you know what you’re talking about?”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t seem upset by his comment. Instead, challenge lit her eyes. “I’ve been all over the world, spent a month touring Europe in my early twenties, determined to expose my palate to more than the moonshine my daddy let me try when I turned nineteen.”

“Nineteen? You were a good girl then?” He could picture her as a teen, long skirts and modest shirts, so polite and proper while under her parents’ roof. Then running wild as soon as she got the first taste of freedom. She’d have broken his heart if he’d met her back then.

The sweet smile she gave him had him wondering if his heart was safe, even now. She laughed, the sound full of light and warmth, pulling him in as she faced him in the center of the lobby. “Are you implying I’m not a good girl anymore, Tim?”

“I wouldn’t be with you if you were a ‘girl’ anymore, Madeline.” He could tell she liked his pointing that out. Many women didn’t want to be reminded they were no longer young, but he had a feeling she was confident with who she was. Which was sexy as hell. “But about your refined palate, I’d like the chance to prove to you that some domestic brews are just as good, if not better, than anything you’ve had overseas.”