Nip it in the Bud (Bunch-A-Blooms 3)
Page 15
“Not yet.” He wraps an arm around my waist. “How about that tour now?”
“Afraid I’ll learn more of your secrets?”
“They’re yours to know when the time is right.” He kisses my temple, and I guide him to the kitchen, lost in thought as I absentmindedly give him the tour, skipping the bedroom as he suggested. His rich laughter makes me giggle. It’s like I’m flying with him. As we step out into the evening my excitement rises. Western Bowl is the perfect blend of old and new with vintage bones in the design and a pool hall with great drink prices and decent food. It also has pool and tables. “Since you’re not telling me where we’re going, are you going to be my driver?” he asks as we slip into the evening and he walks me to his car. He opens the passenger door, and I climb in.
His manners are old-school, but I appreciate it. I like feeling cherished and well-cared for.
“Sure. I’m good at directions.”
He puts on an XM hip-hop station, and I feed him directions until we’re pulling into the parking lot with the red neon sign beneath a large bowling pin and bowling ball.
“Western Bowl? I don’t think I’ve ever been here before.”
“You’ll love it.”
“You’re adorable when you’re excited.”
“You won’t be saying that when I wipe the floor with you. Have you read the back of my T-shirt?”
I turn away from him, and he laughs.
“You came to win, huh?”
“Oh, yeah. All’s fair in bowling.”
“Game on then, my bloodthirsty lady.”
He twines our fingers as we make our way through the parking lot. We step inside, and he laughs.
“Glow bowling?” he asks.
“Hell yes! I made our reservations. We got a lane all night. Wait.” I pause.
“What?”
“I want to remember you like this, so sweet and happy before I decimate you.”
His jaw drops and I laugh.
“I’m kidding. But bowling is kind of my thing. I used to do it all the time growing up.”
“Okay, Bowlinator. You ready to put your money where your mouth is and make a wager?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Loser cooks for the winner,” he says.
“You’re on,” I reply as the competitive virus infects me.
***
Two games later he’s bowing to me in an impression of Wayne and Garth from Wayne’s World. “We’re not worthy. We’re not worthy.”
I give a curtsy. “Thank you for this. It’s been ages since I bowled.”
“You could’ve fooled me,” he mumbled.
“Awww, don’t be sour. Let me get you a consolidation beer.”