Free Slow Hands by Leslie Kelly Page A

sitting behind her for the last half hour, but was quite adept at ignoring them. She’d had lots of practice.
    Jake, however, had not.
    After the slurred voice behind her got loud enough for Jake to hear it over the crowd, he leaped to his feet, turned around and thrust an angry finger into the drunk man’s face. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to keep your eyes to your own damn self and your fat mouth closed?” he snapped.
    The foulmouthed fan, a heavyset, sweaty guy with red cheeks and beer-scented breath, rose, too, swaying on his feet. “Hey man, she’s hot.”
    “She’s also not deaf,” Maddy murmured, turning in her seat to watch. She’d be damned if she would rise to her feet to prevent the jackass from leering down her shirt some more. It wasn’t low-cut. And she didn’t have a single thing to be ashamed of.
    “You’re hot,” the guy repeated as he gaped from above.
    “So you said.”
    Despite the crudeness she’d heard from the stranger before Jake had caught on and launched at him, she remained more annoyed than offended. Leave it to a breast-obsessed little boy wearing men’s triple-X sized clothing to ruin her lovely afternoon.
    It wasn’t as though she’d never experienced it before. A woman with her build had to either get used to men treating her like a walking pair of breasts or spend her entire life in a constant state of annoyance.
    He gave Maddy a bleary smile, still oblivious to the depth of Jake’s anger. “Bet if you flash ’em, the camera’ll focus in on ya and put ya up on the big screen.”
    “Oh, and I live for just such a moment.”
    “You must not like your teeth very much, buddy,” Jake snapped. “Keep talking and you’re going to be saying goodbye to quite a few of them.”
    Maddy had become adept at retaliating against offensive men, even if, quite often, her put-downs went right over their imbecilic heads. “Please, Jake, let it go,” she added. “I’m quite sure that in the world of this gentleman’s favorite show, The Girls Next Door , he’s behaving with absolutely perfect gentility.”
    “Hey! That is my favorite show!”
    Uh-huh. Right over his poor wee imbecilic head.
    She almost laughed—until she realized Jake was not merely angry, he was downright furious. Rage flashed behind his eyes and his tightly clenched body seemed ready to lash out. He appeared capable of real violence, all because some stupid drunk had opened his mouth.
    The stupid drunk was apparently too far gone to realize he was about two inches from death-by-enraged-gigolo. “They’re real, ain’t they?”
    “Sit down,” Maddy snapped, finally starting to lose her patience. She grabbed Jake’s arm, stopping him midgrowl as he began to climb over the back of his seat. “You, too. Before you get us all thrown out.”
    “Maddy…”
    She kept her hand on his arm, her nails digging in tight, determined to handle this situation herself. Without violence. Though, she had to admit, a teeny, tiny part of her liked how protective Jake was, even if she usually had absolutely no use for such blatant displays of testosterone.
    “You. Sit. I mean it,” she ordered the intoxicated stranger, pointing to his seat.
    The man sat.
    “Now, I’m quite certain that somewhere in your beer-sodden brain, you believe I’m flattered by your eloquently worded… compliments .” Maddy didn’t have to raise her voice to make sure she was being heard. All around them, conversations had quieted, and she didn’t think a single spectator in their section was watching what was going on down in the field. The showdown here was apparently much more interesting.
    “However, while I’m sure you are a man who possesses many admirable porcine qualities, as you can see, I am here in the company of another gentleman. And neither of us appreciates your attentions. Will you please, therefore, refrain from commenting further and allow us to get back to the game?”
    The man’s mouth fell open. “What’d