Heaven, Texas (Chicago Stars #2)(5)

“‘Course he does. Football’s Bobby Tom’s life. He doesn’t believe in divorce, and he knows he couldn’t ever be happy with a woman who didn’t understand the game.”

While Gracie tried to absorb this piece of information, Bobby Tom kissed Julie, then patted her wet bottom and sent her back to her perch on the edge of the hot tub. The guests had congregated near the platform to observe the action. Gracie's took advantage of the fact that Bruno was also watching the interchange to back up onto one of the steps behind her so she didn’t miss a thing.

Bobby Tom put out his cigar in a chunky onyx ashtray. “All right, honey. Let’s start with quarterbacks. Choosin’ between Terry Bradshaw, Len Dawson, and Bob Griese, which one had the highest percentage of completions? Notice I’m trying to keep this easy. I’m not asking you for the actual percentage, just who ranks highest.”

Julie flipped her sleek wet hair over her shoulder and gave him a confident smile. “Len Dawson.”

“Real good.” The hot tub lights reflected up, so that his face was visible, even under the brim of his Stetson. Although Gracie stood a little too far away to be certain, she thought she detected amusement glinting in those deep blue eyes. As a devout student of human nature, she grew even more interested in observing what he was up to.

“Now let’s see if you’ve got your problems from the last quiz straightened out. Slip your mind back to 1985 and name the NFC’s leading rusher.”

“Easy. Marcus Allen.”

“The AFC?”

“Curt—No! Gerald Riggs.”

Bobby Tom pressed his hand to his chest. “Whew, you about stopped my heart with that one. Okay, now, longest field goal in a Super Bowl game?”

“1970. Jan Stenerud. Super Bowl IV.”

He looked around at the crowd and grinned. “Am I the only one hearin’ wedding bells?”

Gracie was smiling herself at his chicanery as she leaned forward to whisper in Bruno’s ear. “Isn’t this a little demeaning?”

“Not if she wins. You got any idea how much Bobby Tom’s worth?”

Quite a lot, she imagined. She listened as he fired off two more questions, both of which Julie answered. In addition to being beautiful, the blonde was quite knowledgeable, but Gracie had the distinct feeling she wasn’t nearly smart enough to stay ahead of Bobby Tom Denton.

Once again, she whispered to Bruno. “Do those young women really believe he’s serious about this?”

“Of course he’s serious. Why else do you think a man who loves women as much as he does hasn’t ever gotten married?”

“Maybe he’s gay,” she suggested, purely as a point of discussion.

Bruno’s shaggy eyebrows shot up into his forehead and he began to sputter. “Gay! Bobby Tom Denton? Shit, he’s nailed more tail than a frontier trapper. Cheezus, don’t let him hear you say that. He’d probably—Well, I don’t even want to imagine what he’d do.”

Gracie had never believed that any man who was securely heterosexual should be threatened by homosexuality, but since she was hardly an expert on male behavior, she could quite possibly be missing something.

Julie answered a question about a person named Walter Payton and another about the Pittsburgh Steelers. Bobby Tom rose from his chair and began to pace along the back edge of the platform, as if he were in deep thought, which Gracie didn’t believe for a minute.

“All right, honey, now concentrate. You’re only one question away from that long walk down the center aisle, and I’m already thinkin’ about what good-looking babies we’re gonna have. I haven’t felt this much pressure since my first Super Bowl. Are you concentrating?”

Creases had formed in Julie’s perfect forehead. “I’m concentrating.”

“Okay, sweetheart, now don’t disappoint me.” He tilted the beer to his lips, drained it, and set the bottle down. “Everybody knows the goalposts have to be eighteen feet, six inches wide. The top face of the crossbar—”

“Ten feet above the ground!” Julie shrieked.

“Aw, honey, I respect you too much to insult your intelligence with a question that easy. Wait till I finish, or you’re gonna end up with a two-question penalty.”

She looked so stricken that Gracie’s heart went out to her.

Bobby Tom crossed his arms over his chest. “The top face of the crossbar is ten feet above the ground. The vertical posts have to extend at least thirty feet above the crossbar. Now here’s your question, sweetheart, and before you answer, remember that you’re holding my heart in your hands.” Gracie waited expectantly. “For the chance to be Mrs. Bobby Tom Denton, give me the exact dimensions of the ribbon attached to the top of each upright.”

Julie shot up from the edge of the hot tub. “I know this, Bobby Tom! I know it!”

Bobby Tom went very still. “You do?”

A soft giggle slipped through Gracie’s lips. It would serve him right if Julie answered the question.

“Four inches by sixty inches!”

Bobby Tom punched his chest. “Aw, baby! You just ripped out my heart and stomped the sucker flat.”

Julie’s face crumpled.

“It’s four inches by forty-eight. Forty-eight inches, sweetheart. We were only twelve inches away from eternal marital bliss. I can’t remember the last time I was so depressed.”