Page 44 of Strike Zone

He looks to Anders. “I know you won’t refuse a good whiskey.”

I chance a glance in Diana’s direction. She looks different, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. When she meets my gaze, that same electric chemistry sparks to life between us, and she stands to greet me. “Hi, Linc. How are you?” Her voice is quiet. Reserved. Unlike her. She holds out her hand to shake, which feels awkward as fuck, but I guess she’s trying, so I reciprocate. Even this smallest of touches is enough to make both of us jump. Vibrations course through my body, and I can’t take my eyes off her.

“I’m good. It’s nice to see you, Diana.”

Her dad chuckles as he hands me my drink. “God, I haven’t heard anyone call her that since she was in kindergarten.”

“Well, sir, it’s a beautiful name befitting of a lady.”

Diana drops her gaze, fidgeting with her foot, raking it back and forth in the plush pile of the carpet. “No one’s referred to me as a lady in a long time either.”

“You are, so don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise. Being fierce doesn’t mean you’re not feminine. They’re not mutually exclusive. If anyone really studied your movement in the ring, they’d see how elegant you are. I’d say that’s the essence of being a lady.” I take a gulp of whiskey, realizing I’m not playing it cool at all. Everyone is staring at us, jaws on the floor. I’ve gone past small talk and maybe some harmless flirting to pouring my heart out for everyone to hear.

Thankfully, Anders reads the room and steps in to save my ass as I drown in the ocean of my own making. “There’s a pool table in the study. Fancy a game?”

“Sure.” He knows as well as I do that we don’t have time for a game, but we can rack it and get the hell out of this room for a hot minute. The second we hit the hallway, he pulls me through the door to the study, the smell of old books cloaking me in a comforting blanket of wisdom.

“What the hell was that?”

“I don’t fucking know. It’s not like I planned it. I saw her, and my brain stopped communicating with my mouth.”

“Then you need to rewire that shit. Dee isn’t the kind of woman who responds to the lovey-dovey crap.”

“What if you’re wrong? Maybe that’s exactly what she needs. Everyone treats her like a dude because she’s a fighter, but does anyone stop to think that she has a softer side?”

“You’ve met her. What you see is what you get with Dee.”

“You’re wrong. So fucking wrong it’s laughable.”

“What’s laughable is that you think you know some big dark secret about my sister-in-law. Brooke knows her better than anyone. You’re reading way too much into it. Sometimes people should be taken at face value. Dee is a hardcore fighter. If you want a woman who needs a man to come in and sweep her off her feet, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“Dinner’s ready.”

“I didn’t hear anyone shouting at us.”

I can’t stomach another minute of his short-sighted view of Diana. “I guess you can add hard of hearing to your list of shortfalls.”

“What the fuck? I told you I’d help you this weekend. I’m just offering you some friendly advice.”

“Yeah, well, this is something I know you’re wrong about.” I’m showing my hand—giving too much away, too early. I stride out the room, my thinly-veiled attempts to pass off my faux pas as righteous indignation.

Storming down the hallway, I run into Brooke on her way to tell us dinner’s ready. “Hey, food’s ready. Where’s Anders?”

“Still in the study.”

She eyes me warily. “Is everything okay?”

“Peachy.”

“Then why do you seem so ticked off?”

I try to blow off the tension coiling in my muscles. “I just think everyone needs to remember that your sister is more than her persona in the ring. He disagrees.”

“I thought what you said was sort of sweet. If I were her, I’d jump your bones.”

“You would?” I wiggle my eyebrows with a wicked grin.

“Not when you do the creepy brow thing, but when you let yourself be genuine, you’re a catch, Linc. She’d be lucky to snag you. I tell her all the time that she should give you a chance.”

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