Page 11 of Cowboy

She sat and he picked up his ball. He could do this and maybe, just maybe he could keep from embarrassing himself with his score.

They finished the first game. He’d scored 132 to Ava’s 197. He felt good about his score and was ready for another game.

“We can go if you want to do something else.”

“I’m good. I was going to ask if you want to play another game.” He turned and looked around. It took a moment, but he spotted the café, and the menu on the wall above it. “Looks like they’ve got a pretty good menu. We can have dinner here if you’d like. Or if you’d prefer, we can play another game, or not, and go somewhere else for dinner. I am open for either option.”

She watched him a moment before speaking, he got the impression she was trying to figure out if he was telling the truth or not.

“Let’s play another game. Give me a few minutes to look at what they’ve got here then I’ll decide if we’ll eat here or wait until we’re through playing to go get food.”

Cowboy couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. He’d gotten past the need to watch her ass as she took her turn, mostly. And they talked a lot as they’d played. She was fun and easy to be around. And she could talk to you. Most of the women he’d spent time around in the last ten plus years only wanted to talk about one thing. What he was going to do to them or what they wanted to do to him. That was his own fault, but he’d lost interest in a quick roll in the hay, then move on to someone new.

“The menu looks good, let’s go ahead and eat here,” Ava said a few frames later.

“Good, decide what you want, and we can flag down a waitress. Maybe that will give me a chance to redeem myself with a better score.”

“I’ll decide what I want, but I’m pretty sure we can hit a button to call the waitress.” She moved to the control panel for the score computer. “Yep, here’s the button. When we’re ready we can hit that, and they’ll come take our order.”

“Wow. I’m glad you’re paying attention. I’m still a little blown away by the changes they’ve made here since the last time I went bowling.”

“Was that here?”

“It was, but more years ago than I want to admit to.”

“I don’t want to admit how long ago it was for me either. Makes me older than I want to admit to.”

8

“You already told me how old you are, and I still find it hard to believe,” Cowboy said.

Ava’s face heated. She was too old to be single again, she knew it, but there was no way she was staying with Hank after what she’d walked in on. She pushed that out of her mind and went to step past Cowboy to take her turn, but he caught her with an arm around her waist. She looked up at him, marveling at how someone she barely knew could make heat pool low in her belly.

“You’re the best-looking person in this place, thirty-five, twenty-five or eighteen,” Cowboy said, keeping his voice low enough so only she could hear him.

Once he’d said that he released her and let her go to take her turn. She stood for a moment facing the lane as she waited for her face to cool and the rush of pleasure that washed through her to fade so she could focus on making her shot.

After throwing the ball, she closed her eyes for a few seconds instead of watching the ball as she usually did. The joy that had come over her at Cowboy’s words still raced through her, she didn’t even care how well her throw had gone. She opened her eyes, turned, and headed back, assuming she hadn’t hit anything because she hadn’t heard the ball crash into the pins, but as her gaze landed on Cowboy, she heard it. The ball crashed into the pins. But how? She’d been standing there far longer than it should have taken for the ball to make its way down the lane. She turned to look and had to stop and stare. It was a strike.

She’d been so flustered by what he’d told her, she could barely focus. How on earth had she managed to throw a strike? She blinked to make sure she wasn’t seeing things, then turned back to Cowboy.

“That is a strike, right? I’m not seeing things?”

“You’re only seeing what’s there. You hit a strike.”

He stood and she went to the bench and let her knees collapse beneath her. She wasn’t sure which was harder to believe. That he thought she was the prettiest girl in the place or that she’d managed to hit that strike. Not that it was her first strike of the night, it wasn’t. But how had she done it when she could barely focus?

After four games, dinner and more laughing than Ava could remember doing in a long time, they called it a night. She was a little nervous about getting back on the motorcycle but not as bad as before the ride over here.

“Do you need help getting it on or you want me to let you try?” Cowboy asked, handing her a helmet.

“Let me try. If I can’t figure it out, I’ll ask.”

“All right.” He reached for his own and had it on and fastened before she finally gave up. She just couldn’t manage to get the two ends of the clip lined up to fit together.

“I give up.” Ava tilted her head back, trying to give him as much room as he might need to get the clip together.

“No problem.” His voice was muffled through the heavy helmet. He took the two ends and fitted them together in seconds. She didn’t know what he did but the next thing she knew, his voice was crystal clear and as if he was right there in the helmet with her.

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