Page 32 of Strike Zone

LINC

Running is the best way to clear your head. When I disappear into Central Park, I become just another jogger out there trying to stay fit. With my ballcap on and earbuds in, the rest of the world falls away, one stride at a time.

Temperatures are barely above freezing today, and every breath forms a perfect puff of visible air, disappearing before my eyes as quickly as it forms. I’ve been lax on my exercise lately, but then, I’ve been getting plenty of private workout sessions with Diana. Ever since the night at Viper, we’ve been drunk dialing each other regularly, and I hate to admit it, but she’s growing on me. She’s made it pretty clear that she has nothing but contempt for my personality. However, my giant cock seems to be winning her over to my other standout traits.

The park is busy this morning, more so than usual, which I like. It’s even easier to disappear in here when there are twenty other guys in a ballcap pounding the running trail. With Diana on my mind, I push myself harder, picking up the pace, my jog turning to a run as I force the air in and out of my lungs, my chest aching with the cold.

I haven’t hooked up with anyone else in the time that Diana and I have been casually becoming steady booty-call buddies. We don’t acknowledge it or discuss any other potential partners we have, and as much as I want to be nonchalant about the whole thing, I’m not. With every passing night we spend in my bed—never hers—the less I’m interested in anyone else. Even Candy has noticed. We’ve never been anything more than a mutually convenient speed dial, but I haven’t called her since before I went to Vegas. Since before Diana.

My mind is racing, torturing myself with the ‘what-ifs’ of Diana’s personal life. What if she’s seeing other people? What if she doesn’t feel the same inexplicable draw I do? What if some other guy has had his hands on her? I have no right to an opinion, but the rage that courses through my veins at the mere thought of it has me flat-out sprinting by the time I reach the end of my run.

“Fuck.”

Maybe I should just call Candy or go to Viper tonight without calling Diana at the end of the night. It’s not like I don’t have other offers. Not to blow my own trumpet, but I have women falling over themselves for one night with me. And yet, I can’t get the only woman I want to even let me set foot in her apartment.

As I head back to my place, I pull out my phone and make the call I should have before now. I’m letting this mess with my head, but I’m done.

“My apartment. Eight o’clock.”

* * *

My little dog, Tink, is excited when she hears a knock at the door, finally getting out from under my feet in the kitchen. I’m going all out tonight with my signature carb-loading fettuccini pomodoro.

She’s a sight for sore eyes when I open the door, and as always, she launches herself at me with very little preamble. “I’m supposed to be at Brooke’s by nine, so this’ll need to be a quickie.” She reaches for my shirt as her lips find mine, but as much as I’d like to lose myself in her, I have to draw a line and hope she wants to cross it with me.

“Hey, I made dinner.”

“You can reheat it after I’m gone. I’m on the clock, Linc. Take off your pants.”

I hold her at arm’s length. “I made dinner for us. I thought maybe we could eat before we fuck.”

“Why?” She tries to stare me down, but I know her well enough to see a fleeting moment of vulnerability in the firm knit of her brow. “We don’t do that.”

“Just because we haven’t doesn’t mean we can’t. Look at me, I’m wasting away from all the sex and none of the dinners, lunches, or midnight snacking that usually comes along with it.”

“I can better assess your need for calories when you’re naked. From memory, I think you’re fine. Better than fine.” Diana has this way of looking at me like I’m the meal and she’s ravenous.

“I made the pasta from scratch. Have one mouthful.”

“You really called me to come have dinner with you?”

“Yes. Is that so weird? I know every inch of your body intimately, so I figured it might be time to hang out.”

“I have to be at Brooke’s in an hour.”

“Then I guess you better eat fast if you want to get your rocks off.”

“If I don’t eat, I don’t get sex? Really?”

“No, because you look fucking hot, and I have no self-control, but I’m asking you to sit down and eat a meal with me. You might even find some small redeeming quality of my personality.”

“Why do I feel like the bad guy right now? You’re the one changing the rules.”

I hold a chair out for her to take a seat. “I thought the beauty of us is that we don’t have any rules.”

“It does smell pretty good. I guess it can’t hurt.”

“There’s the enthusiasm I was looking for.” She cracks a smile as I grab a few glasses and pour us some champagne. While I plate up the dinner, I jump right in on the small talk. Something we’re not accustomed to. “So, how’s training going? Have you got a new date for the fight?”

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