Page 2 of Trust Me Always

His heavy feet pound against the floor, and I throw my arms out, palms pressing to either side of the frame, blocking his path.

Yes, I talked a big game about letting my boys eat Alister forlunch, but at the end of the day, he’s not worth the trouble they’d get into with their coach.

He reaches me in three Goliath-sized steps, so I raise a blond brow, and he raises one right back, his massive hands closing over my ribs in the same second. He lifts me with zero effort, shifting and preparing to deposit me to the side, but I’m not going to make it that easy.

I curl my limbs around him until I’m a full-on frontal backpack.

He tenses for a split second, then his chuckle fills my ear. “If you think that’s gonna stop me from getting down those stairs, you’re wrong.”

“He’s probably already tucked his tail and ran off.”

“Staring right at him.”

My head yanks around, and sure enough, Alister is standing right there at the bottom of the stairs, looking right at me. Or more at me latched and locked on the tree of a man that is Brady Lancaster.

My lips purse and I bug my eyes as if to saywhat the hell are you doing?

Alister smirks, crosses his arms, and just…stands there.

A low rumble vibrates against my chest, and I curl my arms tighter. “Brady?—”

“Nope.” He cuts me off, his hands moving to the underside of my thighs to support me as he starts taking the stairs down two at a time. “Warned his ass.”

“Well, I think it’s established he’s not the brightest.”

“I take offense at that,” Alister drawls.

“You were meant to,” I snap. “Why are you still there?!”

“Waiting for him to put you down.”

Brady grips me tighter. “I’m gonna drop-kick his ass,” he mumbles for only me to hear, and I know we must be but two steps away now. He may very well do as he wishes.

I wrap my arms tighter, shimmying to get my mouth to his ear. “If you turn around, I’ll do your laundry for a week.”

“Nope.”

“I’ll cook you breakfast.”

“You don’t wake up till noon. I’m up by five.”

Not true.

Well, notentirely true.

“Ugh! Fine, I’ll give you a massage after the game.”

Brady jerks to a stop midstep, tugging back to meet my eye. His narrow. “Not the next morning. On game night.”

“Yep.”

“I’m talkin’ right after.”

“I’ll come to the locker room if they let me.”

“Locker room?” Alister asks, stepping closer.

“No.” Brady scowls, his voice low. “Your dorm. I want quiet and that smell-good shit.”

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