Heaven, Texas (Chicago Stars #2)(72)

His expression grew belligerent. “Now what’s that supposed to mean?”

Her rising tension was making her cranky. “The indisputable fact is, you don’t have the best taste when it comes to female companionship.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Have you ever dated a woman with an IQ larger than her bra size?”

His eyes drifted down to her breasts. “A lot larger.”

She could feel her nipples tightening. “I don’t count. We’re not officially dating.”

“You’re forgetting about my relationship with Gloria Steinem.”

“You did not date Gloria Steinem!”

“You don’t know that for a fact. Just because we’re engaged doesn’t give you the right to tell me what sort of ladies I’m attracted to.”

He was stonewalling. He brushed her bare calf with his leg, and her skin broke out in goose bumps. Since she knew she wouldn’t get any farther with him, she abandoned that particular line of attack for another.

“You certainly seem to have a head for business. Maybe you’d be happier doing that than acting. I had no idea how many successful business ventures you were involved in. Jack Aikens told me that you were born with horse sense.”

“I’ve always been able to make money.”

She’d never heard less enthusiasm, and as she slipped another french fry under the bleachers, she tried to figure out why. Bobby Tom was intelligent, handsome, charming, and he could make a success of anything he put his mind to. Except the one thing he wanted most—to play football again. It struck her that in the time she’d known him, she’d never once heard him complain about having his career ended so brutally. He wasn’t a complainer by nature, but she was certain he’d feel better if he could vent his feelings.

“You keep a lot bottled up inside you. Would it help if you talked about what happened?”

“Don’t psychoanalyze me, Gracie.”

“I’m not trying to, but having your life turned upside down would be difficult for anyone.”

“If you expect me to start whining because I can’t play ball anymore, you can forget it. I’ve already got more than most people walking this globe even dream about, and self-pity isn’t high on my list of desirable virtues.”

“I’ve never known anyone less prone to self-pity than you, but you’ve built your life around football. It’s natural for you to feel a sense of loss now that it’s gone. You certainly have a right to be bitter about what happened to your career.”

“Tell that to somebody who doesn’t have a job, or tell that to a homeless person. I’ll just bet they’d trade places with me in a second.”

“If you follow that logic, no one who has food and shelter should ever feel unhappy about anything. But life’s more than food and shelter.”

He swiped a paper napkin across his lips, touching her breast with his elbow as he did and setting off a chain reaction of sensations inside her. “Gracie, don’t take offense, but you’re about boring me to death with this conversation.”

She shot him a sideways glance, trying to see if the caress had been deliberate or accidental, but he wasn’t giving anything away.

He straightened his leg to reach inside his jeans pocket, and the denim tightened over his hips. A pulse thrummed in her throat. “You’ve aggravated me so much I nearly forgot what I wanted to do tonight.” He withdrew something and closed his fist around it. “To accurately reconstruct everything you’ve missed in your relationship with the opposite sex, we’d have to go all the way back to playing doctor behind the garage, but I figured we’d skip that part and jump right ahead to high school when things get more interesting. Sherri Hopper never gave me back my high school ring after we broke up, so we’re going to have to make do with this.” He opened his hand.

Lying in his palm was the most massive man’s ring she had ever seen. Its gaudy collection of yellow and white diamonds arranged to form three stars twinkled in the fading light. The ring was threaded with a heavy gold chain that he slipped over her head.

The ring settled with a thud between her breasts. She picked it up, crossing her eyes slightly to look down at it. “Bobby Tom, this is your Super Bowl ring!”

“Buddy Baines gave it back to me a couple of days ago.”

“I can’t wear your Super Bowl ring!”

“I don’t see why not. One of us has to.”

“But—”

“People in town are going to get suspicious if you don’t have a ring. Everybody’ll get a real kick out of this. Although I wouldn’t plan on being in too much of a hurry when you go to town. Everybody’s going to want to try it on.”

How many bruising hits had he taken to earn this? How many broken bones and sore muscles had he endured? At the age of thirty, she finally had a man’s ring, and what a ring it was.

As she reminded herself she only had it temporarily, she remembered the pangs she’d experienced as a teenager when she’d seen the girls at her high school with a boy’s ring dangling from a chain around their necks. How much she had wanted one for herself.

She fought to hide her emotion. This was only pretend, and she shouldn’t let it mean so much to her. “Thank you, Bobby Tom.”