Going Long (Waiting on the Sidelines #2)(61)

“Really? All that time, and you come back with the slime ball?” I teased her. Her smile was refreshing, and I watched her shoulders relax while she swapped out her boots for her retro black-and-white bowling shoes.

“Hey, fancy-ass quarterback. You might be able to throw a pigskin, but I bet me and slime ball can school you out here,” she sassed at me as she lifted her ball and propped it on her hip like a six-shooter. Slow was going to be really f*cking hard tonight.

I considered her wager for a bit, and it gave me an idea. “Okay, let’s have some fun with this,” I said, lifting my ball now and mimicking her pose. “If you win, you get to pick what we do next. But if I win, we go skinny dipping.”

This marked the first time ever—in the history of my knowing Nolan Lennox—that I saw her jaw actually drop. I also knew she didn’t like to back down from a bet. I raised the bar with this one, and probably threw my whole plan to shit, but I didn’t care. She was chewing on her bottom lip and wiggling it side-to-side when she finally nodded once. “Okay, you’re on,” she said, a flash of passion in her eyes. I hadn’t seen this side of Nolan in months, and if I had to throw 10 strikes in a row to keep it alive, I was going to summon everything I had.

I set Nolan up to go first, because I wanted to know exactly what I needed to keep up with each round. She was good at bowling, so I knew it wouldn’t be easy. But, it wasn’t a game of pool, so I had a chance. And the fact that she knew I did, excited me even more.

She scored a nine her first frame, and I matched her pin-for-pin. She followed that up with two strikes and a couple of spares, and I was starting to fall a little behind. I had to do something to get my edge back, so I headed to the snack bar while she was throwing her sixth frame and grabbed a pitcher of beer and some nachos.

When I came back, she had her arms folded and was staring at me like I was in trouble. I just shrugged a bit and gestured what? “So, I’m guessing I’m not getting a real dinner tonight then, Johnson,” she said, reaching for a glass and pouring a beer.

I held out my glass, and she poured me one next. “Noles, are you telling me nachos aren’t a real dinner?” I said, grabbing one that was dripping with peppers and cheese, and tilting my head back while I ate it, smiling at her while I wiped my mouth on my sleeve.

She reached for a pepper then, and just ate it straight, looking right in my eyes while she did. “It’ll do,” she said with a wink, and then took a small sip of her beer. I was glad to see her go slowly. I’d had my fill of Nolan and drinking when she threw up on my best jeans the other night.

She still seemed in control on the lanes. I was hoping to get inside her head a little, make her miss a shot here and there, but she was too cool for that. I was down seven pins by the time the last frame came up, and I knew I’d need her to miss at least one toss to have a chance. She was standing at the ball return waving her hand in front of the air when she turned to me, a cocky grin on her face. “Looks like I’m picking what we do next, Wildcat,” she teased, turning around to reach for her ball as it slid up the belt.

Her back was to me and she wasn’t paying attention. I capitalized on this moment. It was my only chance, and it was the slightest opening to do something I’d been dying to do since I’d picked her up that night. I rushed up behind her as she lifted her ball, and leaned forward so my mouth barely grazed her ear. “You…are beautiful,” I whispered, lingering there just long enough for her to feel my breath and anticipate my touch that wouldn’t come, and her body reacted. I backed away slowly, satisfied by the tiny bumps raised on her neck and arms by my breath. More than wanting to rattle her enough to win our bowling match, I wanted to see if Nolan still felt me. And I knew instantly then that she did.

She refused to turn around, but she walked up to the wood floor slowly, holding her ball delicately in one hand. She tossed it down the lane, and knocked over only a pin or two. She turned slowly to walk back to the return and locked her eyes on mine. They were serious now, not angry and not nervous, but considering perhaps? She kept staring at me until her ball returned and rolled into her hand. She lifted it, and walked backward to the lane before she dropped it, not even looking, down in the gutter, and pushed it to the pins.

She just f*cking threw in the towel. On purpose!

She walked back to me, her eyes hooded ever so slightly, and her breath held. I picked up my ball, and held her gaze until I turned and lined myself up, and threw three strikes in a row. When the last pin fell, I turned at the end of the lane to look at her. She was standing next to the ball return, staring right back at me, hungry.

“Screw it,” I thought, as I walked up to her and pushed my fingers through her hair, and covered her mouth with mine. I reached around to her lower back and lifted her into me, her feet gliding up from the floor slightly as she reached around and pulled herself up with her hands gripping my shoulders.

I kissed her for a full minute, and I kissed her hard. And she kissed back. The lanes were filled with nothing but old smokers and drunks, and no one cared about the scene we were making, but I knew I had to cool it off. If I was planning to make her go through with her bet—which I had no intention of letting her out of—I was going to need to slow this down.

I slid my hands to her face and pulled my lips away softly, looking into her eyes the entire time. She looked like she wanted to weep from the loss of my touch, so I just reached for the small hairs that had slid into her face and smoothed them behind her ear. I tilted the corner of my mouth into a grin then hoping that would ease her worry. “So…where’s the nearest pool,” I asked, reaching down for her hand and kissing the top of it.