Page 159 of The Dixon Rule

Isaac throws an arm around Diana and smacks a kiss on her cheek.

I try to ignore the sizzle of jealousy that heats my blood. The cheer team attends every football game, so the players and cheerleaders spend a lot of time together, I get that. Diana’s bound to be close with some players.

But Grant triggers my possessive side. He’s a good-looking dude. Tanned skin, chiseled jaw, at least six four, and ripped. His only flaw? He’s a ginger. Although admittedly, his hair is more auburn with blond highlights as opposed to creepy orange.

I greet Isaac with a nod. “Hey, bro. Good game.”

“Thanks.” He doesn’t miss the way I reach for Diana’s hand. “Dixon, this your boyfriend?”

“Yup.”

He continues to size me up. “Basketball?”

“Hockey.”

“Nice. You hockey bros are tough as nails.”

“Damn right.”

Grant’s interested gaze shifts toward Blake. “Who’s your friend?” he asks Diana.

“This is Blake. Blake, Isaac.”

Almost instantly, he lays on the charm. “What did you think of the game, gorgeous?”

Blake looks amused. “Why do you assume I went to your game?”

“You didn’t?”

“No, I did.” She flicks up an eyebrow. “That second TD catch was impressive.”

“I aim to please.” Grant proceeds to crank it up to another level, going on about the game while throwing in several double entendres to hint that his physical prowess extends beyond the field.

He’s midsentence when Blake cuts him off.

“Wait, are you flirting?”

Isaac looks startled.

I snort into my drink.

“Oh, you were. Got it. I thought we were all just listening to you tell us how great you were, but then you made that comment about your strong hands and nimble fingers, and I was like, oh shit. He’s flirting.” She glances at Diana. “I’m sorry. That was rude. Is he a close friend of yours?”

I keel over in laughter because this man can get any girl he wants and a freshman just demolished his ego in five seconds.

Isaac narrows his eyes. “What did you say your name was again?”

Diana can’t control her own laughter. “Oh, now he’s pretending he doesn’t know your name,” she tells Blake. Giggling, she strokes a soothing hand over Grant’s broad shoulder. “It’s okay, sweetie. Just abort. Go somewhere else and lick your wounds.”

Eyes narrowed, he saunters off to save face. And yet, for the next hour, I keep catching him staring at Blake. Diana notices too.

“I think you’ve intrigued our superstar,” she says. “Tread carefully, though, because his reputation is warranted. I think he’s slept with every cheerleader on the team, even the ones with boyfriends.”

“Including you?” I growl.

“No.” Then she sighs. “We just made out.”

Blake snickers into her beer. I know I shouldn’t encourage underage drinking, but so far, she’s only had one, and I’m keeping a close eye.

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