Page 180 of The Dixon Rule

That’s FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS each!

I smile at the phone. Yeah, obviously I plan to give her the entire amount. I’m sure she’ll fight me on that, but I’ll fight harder. I’ll let her buy me a nice dinner or something, though.

ME:

How did Confi-Dance do?

DIANA:

Don’t be mad.

DIANA:

3rd place.

Assholes.

I can’t deny that Viktor and Martinique were damn good, though. And while our tango was explosive, our waltz was par, and the cha cha was basically a disaster. I’m still stunned that Diana and I cracked the top five. It’s a satisfying culmination to an entire summer’s worth of rehearsals. Fifth place is a solid achievement, and I’m proud of us. I’m proud of Diana, who throws herself wholeheartedly into her projects. She told me last night that her next goal is to learn Spanish, and there’s zero doubt in my mind that she’ll be fluent by the end of the year. She’s that kind of person. Pure dedication.

I can’t believe I ever thought she was just a flighty cheerleader. I was so wrong about this woman.

Coach marches in to go over some last-minute strategy, his sharp gaze seeking out Beckett. “Dunne, I’m putting you on Lindley’s line tonight.”

Nice. I love it when Beck’s on the ice with me. He’s such a fuckin’ goon. I always know I’m going to get the puck because Beckett will have all the opposing forwards tangled up against the boards. He’s probably the best defenseman on the team.

He and I fist-bump, grinning at each other. We haven’t played on the same line since Eastwood College. When we transferred to Briar, he was put on the first line with Ryder, Case, Will, and David Demaine. But now that Demaine and a bunch of other seniors graduated, Coach and his staff keep rearranging the lines, trying to find a configuration that works. Tonight, I’m playing with Austin Pope, last year’s freshman superstar who’s now a sophomore sensation, and a couple other sophomores who are still a little wet behind the ears. Beck will be a welcome addition.

“Hey, Coach,” Nazem calls out. “Lindley placed fifth in the dance thing.”

Jensen fixes me with a withering look. “If you’re not first, you’re last.”

“Dude. Fifth place is awesome for my first dance competition. Come on, tell me I did a good job. You can do it, Coach—just one good job.”

He glowers at me. But as he’s turning away, I hear him mutter, “Good job” under his breath.

I laugh in delight. I always knew he was a big softie at heart.

He shocks me even further when he stops me at the locker room door, smacking my shoulder with a meaty hand. He waits for everyone else to stream out before saying, “It’s nice to see you give the same kind of dedication to all your pursuits, Lindley. I gotta say, though, your cha cha is sloppy as fuck.”

My jaw falls open. “What do you know about the cha cha?”

“My wife and I took dance lessons before our wedding,” he reveals. “Had to learn five Latin dances.”

“American or International?”

“International. It was the worst year of my life,” he growls.

I can’t stop a laugh.

“But it resulted in me marrying my woman and dancing a mean cha cha, so…” He shrugs. “You’re better than that, Lindley. Practice harder.”

He stomps off, and I stare after him. Chad Jensen is full of surprises, and, honestly, the gift that keeps on giving. I can’t wait to tell the boys about—

Halfway down the hall, Coach turns to smirk at me. “If you try to tell anyone about this, I’ll deny it. You will look like a fool.”

Goddamn it.

How does he know?

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