Page 97 of By His Rule

“I grew up listening to Kieran talk about it every chance he got. It becomes second nature after a while.”

“You follow him and the Chiefs closely.”

“Of course. He’s my little brother. No different from you and yours.”

“Something we have in common,” she says absently.

The game continues with our offense lining up to make a play, leaving Luca, Kane, and the rest of the Saints’ offense on the sideline.

Leon and our other receiver Braxton Whitlock take their positions, ready for the snap.

“Come on,” Lorelei screams in encouragement as Whitlock makes the catch before passing it off to Weston Rogers, our running back, who scores a touchdown, making the entire stadium erupt. “Yesssss.”

I watch her with amusement as the Chiefs celebrate their touchdown, my eyes searching out my little brother for a moment before turning back to her.

“You might need to reconsider not being a football fan,” I point out.

“I get sucked into the excitement. I can’t help it.”

The smile on her face and the twinkle in her eye when she turns to look my way do things to me. Things I’m unable to acknowledge, let alone even try to explain to myself.

The only thing I know is that I made the right decision to bring her here this afternoon. And I already can’t wait to do it again.

It’s dark by the time we leave the stadium. If I were here with Dad, I’ve no doubt that we’d head toward the Chiefs’ locker room to congratulate Kieran on an epic win. But I shut the idea down the second it pops up. There’s no fucking way I’m sharing Lorelei with a bunch of sweaty guys who are running on nothing but pure adrenaline right now. I know all too well what they’re all like after a win, and that isn’t something I want her anywhere near.

Instead, I lead her toward my car with my hand pressed against the small of her back.

“That was fun,” she confesses once we’re in the car.

“Better than high school games?” I ask since she confessed to never going to an NFL game before.

She thinks for a moment. “Different. Bigger obviously, louder. But there’s something nice about those smaller high school games with boys who have everything to play for.”

As much as I love the buzz of watching the pros, I can’t help but agree.

The car falls silent as Lorelei pulls her cell out and replies to some messages as I drive.

We haven’t discussed what to do after the game. It’s Sunday night. We both have a long week ahead of us, but still, I can’t quite convince myself to take her home. Not yet.

“Who are you talking to?” I ask after she bursts out laughing.

I assume it’s Tate. Lorelei is probably giving her best friend the lowdown on her day. Internally, I groan, because I know it will end with a phone call from my big brother demanding to know why I chose to take my assistant to Kieran’s game.

“Just an old friend,” she says absently, more focused on the new message that’s popped up than talking to me.

“It’s not him, is it?”

“Him?” he asks, finally turning her eyes on me.

“The asshole who was trying to force himself on you the other night.”

“He did not—” She cuts herself off and finally lowers her cell, turning her full attention on me. I feel the heat of her glare all the way to the tips of my toes. “You had no right to get involved on Friday night.”

“He was harassing you. I had every right to protect you,” I counter, my grip on the wheel tightening as I remember the way he leered at her, unable to read her reaction to him.

“I don’t need protecting, Kian. Not from Matt, and certainly not by you.”

“If you say so.”

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