Page 26 of Date with a Devil
“Woof.” Dane fanned at his nostrils. It was the combination of bowling ball oil, shoe disinfectant, stale beer, fried food and whatever the hell else comprised that smell. “Man. That smell never changes. Brings back memories, doesn’t it?”
“Does it remind you of heartbreak?” Austen teased as she slid the jacket off her shoulders. She wore a modest, ochre-colored blouse that made her golden skin glow. The tops of her perky breasts swelled beneath the silky fabric, a sight that put a lump in Dane’s throat, whether he wanted it there or not.
“Nope,” he said, “I’ve never had my heart broken.”
“Get ready, then, ’cause you’re going to be pretty heartbroken after I spank your butt at this.”
“Oh? You’re a good bowler?” Dane asked as he wedged his feet into a pair of rental shoes.
“Pretty good, if I may say so myself. And you?”
“I’m good at everything I do.”
“Prove it. You’re up first, hotshot.”
Dane grabbed a ball, settled into his stance, set his sights on the bowling pins, and launched the ball down the lane as hard as he could. The ball loudly warbled as it rushed down the wooden lane … before it quickly veered right, directly into the gutter.
“Ha ha! Dane!” Austen doubled-over in her seat and kicked her legs with glee. “Good at everything you do, huh? You wanna revise that statement?”
Dane coyly smiled at her while he waited for his ball to return. “I’m just calibrating, that’s all.”
“Hear that, guys?” Austen said, speaking into the camera. “He’s not bad at this. He’s merelycalibrating.”
Even if the gutter ball left him feeling a little hot under the collar, he liked it when a girl had chirps—it meant she wasn’t completely soft. And he liked the pressure it put on him to perform, too.
Determined to make the journalist eat her words, Dane threw the ball again. The bowling ball hurtled down the lane and met the pins with a raucous, wooden crash. All ten pins exploded into the air, completing the spare.
Austen threw her head back and wailed. “Uggh! You are gonna be good at this, aren’t you?”
“Just needed a little calibration, like I said. You’re up.”
***
Dane tried to be a good sport throughout their interview. Sure, Austen’s phony TV personality was grating—he wished she’d drop the act and just be herself—but he understood that she was just a journalist with a job to do.
So he went along with all her dumb questions, giving her equally dumb answers.
“Dane DeHardt, what’s your favorite first date activity to take a girl you might be interested in?” she asked him.
“Swimming,” he answered.
“I’m afraid to even ask why,” she said with a nervous titter. “But let me guess—so you can see what she looks like in a bikini, right?”
“That, plus you get to see what shereallylooks like under all that makeup.”
Austen made a guttural noise of disappointment and she slapped at the hockey player’s chest with a backhand.
“Ugh! You’re such a—” she looked at the camera, remembering to stay in character. “Um, you’re such abro.”
“Can’t say what you really wanna say, can you?” he teased. “Don’t worry, I know the feeling.”
Austen froze with terror before moving on to some other lame subject.
“If you were a car, what type would you be?”
Groan.
Those questions.
