Page 32 of Foster

“Okay, fine… yes, I’d love to come,” I finally say and push aside the tiny bit of guilt that I’m crossing a line.

A hand comes down on my shoulder, slides to the side of my neck. I know it’s Leo but I’m stunned to see Foster’s eyes flash hot, then turn ice-cold as he looks at my friend standing behind me. He doesn’t know that Leo’s touch is innocent and only born of friendship. We’re familiar with each other that way but for some reason, I feel like it’s too intimate under Foster’s discerning gaze.

“Want to grab some lunch?” Leo asks me genially, his smiling eyes taking in Foster and Bowie Jane before coming back to me. “I’ve got some new material to go over with you.”

“Actually,” I say, turning to face him, which dislodges his hand. “I’m going to hang out with these two.” I throw a thumb over my shoulder. “Leo… this is Foster and Bowie Jane McInnis.”

Leo reaches out to shake Foster’s hand as I tell him, “This is my best friend and music partner, Leo Stratham.”

“Nice to meet you,” Leo says and then glances down at Bowie Jane. He’s not the best with kids, so he merely lifts his chin at her. His attention comes back to me. “No worries. We can go over it tomorrow at family dinner. What’s your mom making?”

I laugh, giving him a playful slap to his stomach. “I have no clue but your belly will be happy. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“See ya,” he says, and then does a classic Leo move and puts both hands to my face, pulls me into him and presses a hard kiss to the top of my head.

Brotherly. Friendly. He’s done it hundreds of times.

But it still feels too intimate with Foster and Bowie Jane standing there.

Leo nods at Foster and heads back to the small stage to collect his guitar.

“So, is he a casual boyfriend?” Bowie Jane asks, and I almost choke I inhale so quickly.

I whirl around, aghast. “No, he’s not a boyfriend.”

“Then why did he kiss you?” she asks.

“That was just a friend kiss. Not a romantic kiss.”

“Romantic kisses are on the mouth, right?” Bowie Jane asks for clarification.

At this point, my cheeks are on fire and I look to Foster for help. He’s grinning like a Cheshire cat, enjoying the exchange. I give my attention back to Bowie Jane, put on a bright smile, and say, “How about we go bowling?”

CHAPTER 13

Foster

Bowie Jane steps up to the lane, her pink bowling ball poised before her. My daughter is tall for her age, standing at four feet ten inches. The DNA was stacked in her favor because Sandra is five ten.

My kid is also strong, athletic and coordinated. We bowled a lot this summer and she got pretty good. I settle back in my chair, prop a foot clad in a horrific-looking bowling shoe on my knee, and watch as she stares intently over the top of the ball and right down the lane to where the pins are lined up. She takes a breath, lets it out slowly and starts forward.

One step, two steps, her arm drops down and swings back. On the third step, she brings it forward, releasing the heavy sphere a little too early so it cracks against the wood flooring, but she has enough momentum it sails fluidly, perfectly centered in the lane. The ball rolls straight for the middle pin and when it hits, she ends up knocking down all of them but one.

“Great job,” I call out to her.

Bowie Jane smiles at me as she moves to the return and when her pink ball pops out, she takes it in hand again. I glance over at Mazzy, sitting on the edge of her chair, elbows on her knees and watching Bowie Jane like a hawk.

Studying her opponent, one might say, and I have to bite back a laugh. To say that Mazzy is not a good bowler would be an understatement. She says she’s played a few times in her life, but I’m thinking it’s just not her natural gift the way the guitar is.

Bowie Jane executes a beautiful release on her ball and just narrowly misses the last pin left standing to pick up the spare. Still, it’s a good score for this frame and puts her several points ahead of Mazzy.

“I don’t get it,” Mazzy says as she shakes her head. She rises from her seat and looks to me in frustration. “How is this little niblet so good at this and I’m so bad? I’m an adult. Logically, I should have better strength, confidence and coordination.”

I drape my arm over the back of the empty seat next to me and smirk at her. “My kid has natural talent. You clearly do not.”

“That’s just rude.” Mazzy sniffs and moves to grab her bowling ball. I bite back another laugh.

Bowie Jane walks over to me and we fist bump. “Great job, kiddo.”

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