Page 170 of Always You

Shit.

Pretending I didn’t just make the stupidest comment ever, I change my shoes, ignoring the smug grin on his face before getting up to set up the lane.

When I’m done, I turn around, our gazes instantly locking.

“You’re up, famous boy.”

He stands with a troubled look on his face, closing the distance between us once more. He crowds my space again, but this time, it’s not in an intimidating way, as the features in his face soften when he’s right in front of me.

“No,” he says from under the rim of his hat, “I’ll make sure you won’t have to deal with thatwhenyou take me back.”

I clear my throat, no clue how to react to that.

But he doesn’t wait as he moves past me, grabbing a bowling ball out of the ball rack, then he gives me a smug grin before throwing it down the lane.

Strike.

He quietly dances, moonwalking down the lane, and I let out a laugh. He wiggles his eyebrows as he walks back while I move to the ball rack to choose a ball for myself.

“You want to make this more interesting?”

“What? You gonna give me a date so you can bully him away?” I give him a sweet smile, fluttering my lashes at him.

“You wanna call your boyfriend?” he challenges, and my face turns sour.

“No,” I reply, taking a step forward to throw the ball down the lane in a perfect line.

Strike.

“Yes!” I jump up, clapping like a seal, then dance back to the bench, as Hunter starts a slow clap.

“Well done, Charls. Have you been practicing without me?”

“Maybe.”

I try to walk past him, but he snatches my wrist, quickly tugging me onto his lap.

“Tell me about your boyfriend.”

My first reaction should be to get off, telling him he needs to stop blurring the lines. But the scent of his cologne intoxicates me, keeping me in place as he starts to brush my back with the tips of his fingers, and a shiver runs down my spine.

“What do you wanna know?” I frown, as my wrist is still wrapped in his warm palm, burning me with the scorching feeling it leaves.

“Everything.”

I sigh, enjoying his hands on my body, cataloging every inch he touches. “His name is Ben. He’s twenty-six years old, and a baseball coach in Kallhaven. We met at the Nomad. He has black hair and blue eyes.”

“Not that. Fuck that shit. I want to know why youlovehim.”

Surprised, I look at him, keeping quiet because I don’t know what to say.

“I-I-I don’t know,” I finally confess when his hand reaches up, taking a hold of my chin.

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, as if he’s swallowing his desires away, and we keep our eyes locked for God knows how long until my buzzing phone snaps us out of it.

Clearing my throat, I grab my phone out of my back pocket, closing my eyes for a second when I read the name on the screen before I answer it, covering Hunter’s mouth with my hand.

Great timing.

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