Page 143 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot

“You can’t stand the idea of her dating anyone, can you? Admit it—you’re the ultimate overprotective brother.”

“I’m not overprotective,” I grumble. “I just don’t want her with some moron.”

“Right.” Her eyes roll. “So, basically everyone you’ve ever met.”

“Exactly.”

She laughs again, shaking her head. “Poor Nova. Good thing she doesn’t let you vet her boyfriends, or she’d be single forever.”

I shake my head to argue. “I don’t want her to be single forever. I want her to be happy, the same way we are.”

“You know, if these guys knew you were talking about them this way, they would die. Luca would die…”

She’s not wrong.

Luca would shit his pants.

“I just hope,” Austin reaches up to stroke the bottom of my chin, “your plan isn’t to gatekeep every guy on the team until Nova gives up and focuses on her knitting career?”

“She doesn’t knit,” I snap, and Austin dissolves into laughter again.

“Relax, I’m kidding,” she says, grinning as she wipes a tear from her eye. “But seriously, if Luca’s just a hypothetical and the rest are idiots, what kind of guy do we want her to date?”

I hesitate, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t know. Someone… decent. Dependable. Kind. Someone who treats her right.”

Austin softens, her teasing grin fading into something morethoughtful. “You know, for all your big brother bear energy, that’s very sweet.”

I shrug, avoiding her gaze and fixating on the TV. “She deserves the best. That’s all.”

Austin smiles, tickling my neck. “Don’t worry. Nova’s got a good head on her shoulders. She can handle herself. Probably better than you give her credit for.”

I sigh, knowing she’s right but still unable to shake the instinct to protect. “Yeah, well, I’m still keeping an eye on her.”

I lean down, kissing the tip of her nose.

There’s a knock at the door and Gio scrambles toward the door, barking like he’s auditioning for a guard dog gig. “Guess dinner’s here,” she says, untangling herself from the couch.

I follow, pulling Gio back by his collar before he can launch himself at the delivery guy and to both of our surprise, he lets me.

“Relax, buddy. It’s just food.”

Opening the door, I’m greeted by a guy holding a takeout bag and wearing the world’s most unimpressed expression as he holds it toward me, blue ball cap pulled low over his eyes.

“Thanks, man.” It smells so fucking delicious and my stomach agrees. “Tip is in the app.”

“Sure,” the delivery guy mutters, barely sparing me a glance as he turns and goes to stride back down the hall.

Stops in his tracks.

Looks over his shoulder.

“Are you…” His head gives a shake. “Montagalo?”

I grin, hand still curled around little Gio’s collar as he does his best to break free and tear the man to shreds, all false bravado and posturing.

Meanwhile, the delivery guy drops his act completely, replacing it with a wide grin that looks out of place under the shadow of his cap. He takes a half step back, looking me up and down like he’s trying to match the face in front of him with the one he’s seen on game highlights or the roster page.

He can’t believe it.

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