Page 77 of The Cheerleader

Bryan nods at Fletcher, but otherwise doesn’t move as he returns his teammate’s unfriendly look in kind.

Josh gives me a nudge and a wicked grin. “The crowd’s slowing down. I think it’s time for a break,” he says. “You go first.”

I nod, giving him a grateful look. I almost hug him, but a beer customer takes his attention.

Turning back to Bryan, I see him watching Fletcher’s retreating back.

“I’m going on break for a minute,” I say.

He nods and then, there it is, a full-fledged smile appears, making his already intriguingly handsome face look so sexy my knees almost buckle under the influence.

“I’ll come with you. You’re not safe in this unruly crowd.”

When he takes my hand, heat and desire ripple through me like I just took a shot of Jack Daniels. It makes me warm and a little buzzed.

“We have a police detail to take care of security,” I repeat. I can’t stop my compulsion to tease him.

Bryan shrugs. “Sometimes you want to avoid involving the police. Sometimes you need a personal touch.”

I know what I’d like that to mean. We pass a lot of unruly guys all worked up talking about a dare, and one of them lets out a wolf whistle.

Bryan grips my hand tighter and pulls me closer as he turns. Then the guy reaches out and grabs my arm.

“I found one of them. I bet she’ll⁠—”

“Hands off.” Bryan moves as he talks—or I should say growls at the drunk guy. His quickness takes me off guard as he takes hold of the offender’s shirt front and backs him away from me.

“Hey! What are you doing? This is none of your business.”

“She is none of your business. You touched her and that makes you my business.”

“Wait—I didn’t know. I⁠—”

“Hey,” one of the drunk guy’s drunk friends speaks up. “Aren’t you Bryan Granger?”

“Yeah. You are him,” the drunk guy says, his face changing from afraid to impressed, almost starstruck.

Bryan drops the guy’s shirt and backs up. “Keep your hands to yourself.” He finds me behind him and wraps an arm around my shoulder like a protective shield. I feel warm and gooey and so safe that a big sigh escapes.

“You think you’re a big shot, don’t you?”

Bryan turns away and ushers me toward the door. Some of my excitement has fizzled, and I’m not so sure I should go with him now. The guy follows us, breaking away from his friends.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, Granger.”

Bryan ignores him, and I lean close and whisper, “What’s wrong with him? Why would he follow us?”

We get to the door. “Some people like to pick fights,” he says.

“Why would he do that? He’d never win. Does he want to get beat up?”

He half smiles at me as I notice the guy push his way past a knot of people to get to us.

“He knows I won’t beat him up because I’d get in a fuck-load of trouble if I did. Pardon my French.”

The drunk guy pushes Bryan into the wall.

“You think you’re a big deal, don’t you? Think you own the cheerleaders and no one else can touch them⁠—”