Page 77 of You Found Me

On the right, Brick and three of Ward’s former offensive line drank beer and joked around.

On the left, teens his brother’s age clustered along gender lines like they were at a high-school dance.

The parents who used to sit on the sidelines at his games clustered in groups near the back wall by the food and presents, chatting like the old friends they were.

Here and there, a new face caught his eye, but they were too young and too bright-eyed to be any real threat. He forced himself to relax. There was no reason to be on high alert tonight.

“Storm!” One of his old high school buddies lifted a beer in salute. “Glad you’re back.”

“Hey, Storm, who’s your girl?” another asked.

Ward readied himself for the real danger of bringing his protectee out in public.

He’d seen Della work the line after her concert. She’d been a force of nature. A whirlwind that generated excitement by sheer presence.

Everyone wanted her attention, and she wanted theirs.

It was a match made in hell for her bodyguards.

“Lucy,” Brick called out. “Come on over. We got some stories for you about Storm here. Has he told you about the game where he got knocked back ten feet by a tank named Ridley?”

Everyone burst out laughing.

“Oh, that I want to hear.” Della kept her hand tight in his as she pulled him toward his former teammates. She grinned at Brick. “Was he bigger than you?”

“Hell no.” Brick flicked a shit-eating grin at Ward. “Ridley was a flea.”

“He got lucky,” Ward said with a good-natured growl. “And that story never gets old for you, does it?”

Josh, one of his best wide receivers, waved a hand. “Never. Get this, Ridley was five-five and weighed maybe a buck twentysoaking wet. He was a pity play. They didn’t expect him to do much but stand there, but he gets this determined look in his eye?—”

“And he ducks around Brick—” Mike, his center, butted in.

“And hits Ward just at the knees.” Brick mimed where the hit happened, which was off by a good six inches from what Ward remembered. “They both flew back. Storm got the ball off, but it wobbled straight into the little shit’s chest, bounced off, hit Trent here in the shoulder, ricocheted and bonked two more of the defense dudes before Shane snatched it up and ran.”

“It was right out of a cartoon,” Shane laughed.

“Did you win the game?” Della asked between giggles.

The guys did the victory dance they’d perfected in high school, presenting their biceps as they shouted in unison. “Boltz!”

Ward ran a hand down his face at the cringe-worthy display, but the knots in his shoulders relaxed.

Nobody appeared to recognize the superstar in their midst. They’d responded to her the same way they would to any pretty girl he brought home—with enthusiasm and a desire to make him squirm.

So far, so good.

Now for the real test.

“It’s time for Lucy to meet my parents,” Ward said as he pulled Della away.

“Ooooo,” Josh teased. “No wonder you look sick, man.”

“We’ll catch you later, Lucy,” Brick said. “We have plenty more stories to tell.”

Hopefully, they’d be long gone before the guys worked their way back into Della’s orbit. “You ready for this?” Ward asked.

“So ready.” Della tucked her arm in his. “Is the bow still on the guitar?”