Page 113 of Lowering His Guard

Those words have all the fight leaving me. I’ve always wanted a man to protect me. I don’t need protecting, but it’s nice to be protected all the same.

“Fine. But I’m buying the first round of beers.”

“We’ll see,” he mutters before leaning over the fence and pressing his mouth to mine for a brief kiss.

“Fifteen minutes,” he repeats as he jogs away.

I settle on a bench to watch people as I wait. The stadium is clearing out but there’s still plenty to observe. Such as the town lawyer making out with Corbin Cox, the tight end for the Seals. Last I heard, the two were enemies. I guess I’ve missed some of the rumors while I’ve been caught up in falling in love with Brock.

Speaking of giant fullbacks. Brock jogs out of the tunnel and motions to me.

I walk over to him. “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

He snorts before lifting me over the fence.

“You could at least pretend it’s hard to lift me,” I huff when he sets me down.

He cocks an eyebrow. “The way you pretend you don’t enjoy it?”

“Whatever,” I mutter.

He snags my hand and laces his fingers through mine as we walk through the tunnel out of the stadium to the parking lot. He steers me toward his SUV.

“Mer-Mini is over there.” I point.

“I’ll drive you over.”

I glance down at my legs. “Huh. These things do seem to be working.” I shake one. “Yep. Working.”

He ignores me and opens the passenger door. He throws his gear in before grasping my hips and lifting me into the seat.

“Someday—”

He places a finger over my mouth. “Thought you were done lying about not enjoying me carrying you.”

I scowl at him and he chuckles as he shuts the door.

“This is ridiculous,” I tell him as we drive the fifty yards to my car.

“Don’t care,” he grumbles.

“Of course not.”

“I’ll follow you.”

I nod before jumping out of the seat and making my way to my car. Mer-Mini’s scales glisten in the sunshine. I hop inside and then – because irritating Brock is always a good time – I take my time adjusting my mirrors, opening the top, and finding a good song on the radio. When I’m finally ready, I don my sunglasses, wave to Brock, and drive off.

I debate speeding all the way to the island to see how the giant reacts but decide to behave for a change. Huh. Is this adulting? Boring.

I drive around the parking lot of Five Fathoms until I find two spots next to each other. I barely manage to open my door before Brock’s there offering me his hand.

“You’re awful fast for a giant.”

“Professional athlete.”

“Not all professional athletes are fast. Archery and shooting are Olympic sports. I bet those athletes aren’t fast. Oh, and curling! It’s a ‘sport’.”

“Okay, pint-sized.”