Page 45 of Forbidden Vows

“Pun.”

I stand back in shock, taking him in. Could Blaze be more like me than I think? Then he drags his hand through his dark waves, leaving his hair sexily disheveled, and I laugh at my silliness. He’s way too hot to be a nerd. I ask, “Why a bowling alley?”

He gives my question a thought, answering first with a shrug. “The rich kids who lived in the real houses next to us spent their Saturdays hanging out at the bowling alley.” Reflecting on a whole semester of psychology class in just a few words, he shares, “Couldn’t go bowling growing up. Didn’t feel worthy. Made it in the world and immediately built my bowling alley. Bada Boom Bada Bing, proving to myself I’m worthy of swimming with the big sharks.”

“Did it work?”

“Kinda.” He laughs.

“The rich kids at my school went to the Jersey Shore, and the few super wealthy went on cruises. I always wondered what that was like: a floating house you take with you. Sleep in the same place every night, eat at a familiar restaurant at the end of your day.”

“You’d like a cruise?” He ponders a moment. “That doessound like you. A homebody's dream way to travel the world.”

“Exactly!” I laugh. “Now let’s show all those snooty rich kids what’s up and bowl our little hearts out.”

After fitting me with a pair of adorable, brand-new pink bowling shoes and confirming, yes, there will be a snack bar one day, we move to our alley to play. He pops our names into the computer. BRO for him, Cutie for me. I don’t mind.

I watch him pose; his face etched with concentration. He’s very focused. Of course, he’ll be bowling a perfect strike.

I’m shocked as I watch him move like a gangly baby giraffe, all limbs and regret, as he releases the ball from his finger too high. The heavy ball sails through the air, landing on the alleyway with a bump and a bounce before rolling into the gutter. I hold my ball close to my chest, giggling uncontrollably.

He stands there, hands on his hips, mystified by his terrible shot. “What the hell happened?”

I double over my ball, collapsing into a fit of giggles. “You’re supposed to hit the pins!”

“Am I?” he jokes.

“Yes. They like it when you knock them over.”

“I told you I didn’t get to play as a kid. Never developed the skills.” He stares at the ten perfectly standing pins, confused.

“Want me to put the bumpers up for you?” I laugh.

He grins. “Ha. Ha.”

“Our class took a field trip to an arcade once. They had this stand for the little kids where you could roll the ball down. All you had to do was aim.” I sit up, glancing around the room. “Do you have one of those? I can go get it for you.”

“Let me give it another go.” There’s a soft whir, and his ball magically travels up the metal lane, returning to our alley. He comes over, retrieving his ball from the ball thingy. He rolls another gutter ball and then sits down, ignoring my giggles. “Your turn.”

I sashay over to the alley, cradling my pink ball. “I just didn’t think Blaze Bachman could be bad at something.”

“Let me get a hold of you when the sun goes down and show you what I’m good at.”

Ignoring his naughty chuckles, I give it a go, watching the blur of pink sail down the center of the aisle, then turn slightly to the right, hitting a lot of pins on my first turn.

He looks impressed. “Good job.”

“Thanks!”

I clean house on my second shot, knocking over the rest of the pins, getting a spare. It feels good to beat him at something.

I lean against the desk with the score computer, waiting for him to take his turn. “Do you want some tips from a pro?”

“Is there a pro here?” He stands, coming to join me, looking past me. “I don’t see one.” His gaze falls back to me. “I just see a little cutie with a luscious ass that’s distracting me in those leggings.”

I turn to face him directly, putting my supposedly luscious bottom out of his view, demanding, “What’s your excuse, now?”

He brings the ball up to his chest. “Spread your legs for me.”

---