The Fine Print (Dreamland Billionaires #1)(41)

“It was.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you.”

He glares and I laugh to myself again. The sound only makes him scowl harder to himself.

I raise both hands in submission. “Okay, I was laughing at the situation, but to be fair, I didn’t even know there was such a thing as varsity bowling.”

“Don’t beat yourself up too much over it. I’ve dealt with worse.”

Like what?! I want to learn all about the grumpy guy who played varsity bowling and joins a mentorship program for people with disabilities despite being incredibly busy. There’s more to Rowan than meets the eye, and I’m dying to learn all about this new side of him I never knew existed.

There’s this strange, albeit microscopic, part of me that wants to shield him from dealing with worse, whatever that means.

Whoa. Where did that thought come from?

Abort. “It’s kind of cool. Women love letterman jackets.”

“I valued my reputation far too much to wear that jacket at school.”

“Why?”

“Because I only joined the team to spite my father. He never specified which team I should join, so I liked beating him at his own game.”

I blink at his personal admission.

He continues on the same breath as if he might stop speaking if he takes a second longer. “He was pissed I never made it past any of the ‘real sports’ team tryouts like my brothers. While Declan was the school quarterback and Cal was the team captain of his hockey team, I was…lacking.” He clears his throat. “According to my father, that is.”

My heart clenches in my chest for the boy who struggled to live up to his father’s expectations. Rowan might be rich, but he struggles with the same kind of issues the rest of us do. Parental expectations. Personal failures.

I want to ease the tension from his shoulders. “You’re telling me you couldn’t buy your way onto the bench?” I fake gasp.

“You’re catching onto how things work.” The corner of his lip lifts. “On the contrary. I paid the coaches to keep me off those teams.”

“Why? I’ve never heard of anyone trying that.”

“I had no interest in being labeled a benchwarmer.”

“You were that bad?”

“Yes.” The lightest shade of pink floods his cheeks and I find it kind of cute.

Cute? Ugh, Zahra. No.

“I’m kind of loving the fact that you’re not the best at everything.”

He shakes his head. “One thing, Zahra. One.”

“So did you win a bowling championship?” I grin.

Rowan’s tense shoulders drop an inch. “I don’t lose. Ever.”

“Your cockiness knows no bounds.”

Rowan says nothing but the smile on his face speaks volumes. It’s stiff, like he hasn’t practiced the movement in quite some time. I’m tempted to touch it to make sure I’m not hallucinating but I keep my hands to my sides.

I shouldn’t find it as endearing as I do. And I most definitely shouldn’t crave more of that stupid, timid smile.

During my next turn, I call out Rowan’s name. “Will you help me, please? I’ve been told by an expert that I twist my wrist.”

His small smile makes a reappearance. I want to do everything in my power to make him smile like that again. Now that I know a little bit about the kind of guy who hides behind suits made of armor, I’m interested in discovering more about him. Consequences be damned.

He walks with a sense of self-assuredness that screams I have a big dick and I know how to use it.

Don’t think about his dick.

Rowan grabs his ball off the rack and keeps enough room for Jesus between us. I’m disappointed this isn’t like the movies.

“So, this is the way you’re swinging your ball.” He rears his arm back, making it twist at an odd diagonal angle. “Which makes your follow through curve to the side and head straight toward the gutter.” He demonstrates the way my arm swings like a pendulum in the opposite direction. I try my best not to focus on his veins as he shows me the correct positioning, but I’m a lost cause to the way his body moves.

“You try.” He pulls me away from my thoughts.

I attempt whatever swing he did and fail based on how his eyes lighten.

“No. Let me help you.” He puts down his ball and stands behind me. The body heat coming off him makes my whole spine warm.

Now this is what I’m talking about.

His hand grazes my arm before circling my wrist like a cuff. He holds on to it with the softest touch that has my heart pounding in my chest and my breathing turning erratic.

Seriously, he’s holding your wrist. Come on!

His husky voice is nothing but a whisper in my ear, yet I feel it straight to my core. “Try again.”

I move my arm backward. Rowan’s fingers remain locked around my wrist, guiding me through the correct follow-through. He repeats the motion a few times.

“Now you try by yourself.” He drags his fingers up my arm again before they disappear.

I pout at their loss since he can’t see me, and I mess up my swing on purpose because I’m petty.

“No, but you were better this time.” He shakes his head and lets out a low laugh.

I’m rewarded with the return of his hand holding on to my wrist as he shows me yet again. That time when he lets go, I try for real. My effort is rewarded with one of his small smiles.