Page 46 of Heimlock

I shake away the thoughts. “Sorry, got lost there for a second. What did you say?”

He smiles. “What about you? What are your hobbies?”

It’s difficult not to hesitate. Admitting my hobbies tends to scare off men. “You might not believe me if I tell you.”

“Try me.”

“I beat up men for fun.”

He throws back his head and laughs. It engulfs me with a fuzzy feeling. Eyes sparkling with delight, he says, “Please, do tell.”

Well, that’s encouraging. “I’ve been a fighter at the local battle gym. I also help women learn how to defend themselves—”

“Brawling Battle Gym?” Shock colors Trinte’s expression.

I tilt my head. “Yeah, you know of it?”

He shakes his head in disbelief, chuckling. “I knew you looked familiar. You’re the Firecracker, aren’t you?”

It’s my time to loose a loud laugh. “So you’ve heard of my prowess?”

“Heard of it?” he says, incredulous. “You’re a legend. Coach Richor speaks highly of you. I go to the same gym.”

“How have we never fought together?” I ask, confused.

He shrugs. “I don’t do battles — I use it for the workout. I’ve considered entering battles recently, to let loose some steam.” His delicious mouth curls. “Maybe I’ve discovered my first opponent.”

Grinning, I retort, “You’d be signing up for an ass kicking.”

“I believe you,” he says, completely serious. “I’ve been meaning to go to battles. Now I have an excellent reason to attend.”

The thought of him watching from the sidelines while I whoop someone’s ass has me preening.

All of the hope and elation comes to a crashing halt. Because of a very specific, very clear rule. One that will surely ruin the mood.

Cringing, I say, “I have a rule, unfortunately.”

Trinte looks intrigued. “A rule?”

Staring at my beer, I say quietly, “I don’t date anyone from the gym. The men are already sexist — sleeping with anyone there is just asking for disrespect.”

Trinte’s quiet while he processes my words. I dare to look up. He’s gazing out over the crowd, jaw clenched. My heart sinks.

“You love it there?” I guess.

His eyes cut to mine. “It’s probably my only healthy outlet right now.”

“Mine, too.” The ease between us evaporates. It’s not like I can renege on this rule with myself — I’ve seen firsthand what happens to female fighters who dally with male fighters. It’s the only battle gym in the entire city, so it’s also not like either of us can go elsewhere.

“Damn,” I murmur, looking down. “I was starting to like you, too.”

“What if …” A muscle feathers his jaw as he thinks through something.

My heart skips. Will he leave the gym? Does he like me that much?

“What if you make an exception? Try and go on a real first date?” The hope in his expression shatters mine.

“I can’t,” Why does this feel so painful? “What if we break-up? What if it gets messy?”