Page 41 of Playing Rucking Hard

“Out of practice? Dylan, from what I’ve read—and yes, I’ve Googled you—practiceis the one thing you’re never short on.”

I wince, but her teasing tone keeps the mood light. “Okay, fair. But that’s not dating. That’s... something else entirely.”

Emma smirks, tapping her mug. “So, what you’re saying is, you don’t know the first thing about actual relationships.”

“Not really,” I admit, rubbing the back of my neck.Why did I want to have this conversation?“I mean, what even counts as a date these days? I’m guessing it’s more than showing up with takeaway and hoping for the best.”

She bursts out laughing, but it’s with me, not at me. I’ve just added another reason to the list of why Emma and no other woman; banter and laughter. “Oh, Dyl,” she says between giggles. “If that’s what you call dating, I’m surprised you weren’t a virgin when we met. You’re hopeless.”

“Not a virgin, and not hopeless,” I counter, grinning now. “Just... untested.”

“Untested? That’s what you’re going with?” She wipes at her eyes, still chuckling. “Alright, Mr. Untested. Here’s a crash course: dates usually involve a little effort. Like, planning ahead. Conversation. Maybe even listening to the other person.”

“Listening. Got it.” I nod solemnly. “Anything else I should know, professor?”

“Yes,” she says, pointing a finger at me. “No talking about exes—or, in your case, your...one-use girls.”

I groan again, dragging a hand down my face. “You’re not gonna let that go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” she says, her eyes sparkling. I’m struck by how beautiful she looks when she’s relaxed. Emma doesn’t need makeup or fancy clothes. She would be radiant wearing nothing but a smile.

“You’re something else, you know that?” I say, my voice softer.

She tilts her head, her smile fading just slightly. “And you’re a walking contradiction.”

“Yeah?” I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table. “How’s that?”

“Because for a guy who doesn’t know the first thing about dating, you’re doing a pretty good job of it right now.”

Her words catch me off guard, and for a second, I don’t know what to say. Then I grin. “So, does that mean I get a passing grade?”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s no mistaking the warmth in her expression. “Let’s just say you’re off probation. For now.”

I lean back in my chair, studying her. “Alright, Emma. Cards on the table. I want one real date. No dark glasses or hoodies. No obscure coffee shop. You. Me. Dressed up and acting like a couple on a date.” I’ve even got the perfect place in mind.

Her eyes widen, and she sets her coffee cup down a little too hard, and black liquid slops down the sides. “Dylan, we’ve been over this. We can’t. The rules.”

“Screw the rules.” I shrug. If the club saw us together, they’d see what I see. We belong together—or at least deserve a chance to see how far this can go. The whole forbidden dating bullshit only makes things worse. “Rules don’t matter. What matters is us.”

Her lips press into a thin line. Have I lost her? Or does she need time to get with the program, and by the program, I mean us as a couple. “Us? Dylan, there is no ‘us.’ We barely know each other. And even if we did …”

“Even if we did, what?” I cut her off, leaning forward. “We’d still be standing in our own way because of some outdated policy? Because you’re afraid of what? Getting fired?”

“Yes!” she snaps, her voice louder than she intended. A few heads turn our way, and she lowers her voice, her tone sharp. “Yes. I’m afraid of losing my job. This job is everything right now. It’s my income, my insurance, my... my lifeline. I can’t risk it. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

Her words hit hard, but I don’t back down. “So, that’s it? You’re going to keep pretending like what’s between us doesn’t exist?”

“There is nothing between us,” she says, but the tremble in her voice betrays her.

“Liar,” I say softly, a hint of a smile tugging at my lips.

Her jaw tightens, and she glares at me. “Don’t push me, Dylan.”

“I’m not pushing. I’m asking,” I say, keeping my tone calm but insistent. “One real date, Emma. That’s all I’m asking for. No rules, no team policies, no excuses. Just you and me. Prove to me that what happens during sex isn’t just sex.” I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.Kill me now and hide the evidence—this woman is under my skin.

Her expression flickers, doubt and something hopeful flashing across her face. “And if I say no?”

“Then I’ll keep asking,” I say simply. “Because I know you feel it too. Whatever this is, it’s real. And I’m not walking away without a fight or until you look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t feel anything for me.”

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