Laurel
“Why haven’t we gone on a date sooner? This is fun.”
Know what else is fun? Watching Rhett’s amazing ass stick out when he palms the bowling ball before rolling it down the center lane, those white pins at the end falling like dominos.
Sleeves rolled to his elbows, I give his firm forearm a squeeze when he passes by, plopping down on the bench while I take my turn. God I love his arms.
I want to climb on top of him and make out with his face.
I love that face.
That flawed, scarred face.
I retrace my steps, planting a kiss on the bridge of his nose before returning to the hardwood bowling floor.
“We should have invited my roommates to come along. I don’t think Donovan has ever been bowling, that diva.”
“Donovan doesn’t strike me as the athletic type.”
Balancing the bowling ball, I squint over the top of it. “You’re right, he’s not. Plus, I don’t think he’d purposely stick his fingers into these holes.” I laugh at my own joke, giving my hips a little shimmy and shake to see if Rhett notices.
He does.
My arm pulls back, swings forward, ball sliding off my hand and onto the glossy wooden lane. Rolls slightly off-center, narrowly missing the gutter then slowly gliding past the right side of the pins.
Two fall.
“Darn it!”
“Want some help babe?”
I smile. “Sure.”
I wait patiently for the ball, tapping impatiently on the return machine that automatically brings the balls back to the player. Rhett scoops it up for me when it swooshes out the contraption. Folds his arms around me from behind while I grip the pink ball. Kisses my neck. Places those mammoth paws on my hips, prompting me to bend my knees.
“Eye on the center pin the entire time,” he croons in my ear. “And follow that swing all the way through after you let go of the ball.”
I close my eyes, nodding, his southern voice doing that thing it does to my erogenous zones. “Mmm’kay.”
He gently pats my ass before returning to his seat. “You got this.”
Except now all I can think about is how soon we can get out of here and get naked.
Pull back my arm. Release the ball. Follow through on my swing, just like Rhett told me to. It flies higher than I intend it to, landing with a loud thump, rolling toward the middle pin. I tip left…then tip right, leg in the air, as if my movements will somehow, with some gravitational pull, control the movements of the ball.
I do not knock down the rest of the pins.
“Six isn’t bad!” Rhett high-fives me when he rises. “You’re gettin’ better.”
Gettin’ better. Does his drawl ever get old?
“Thanks baby.”
I stand, blue eyes scanning the bowling alley; it’s a full house, the busiest I’ve ever seen in the few times I’ve come here with friends. I know it’s a popular hangout since it’s close to campus, and they often let campus organizations host their fundraisers here.
My smile falters when my gaze settles on a group that looks familiar: members of the football team, assembled near lanes one and two.
Giants among regular men.
Man-children, really, as immature as I’ve seen them behave.
I know it’s the football team because I recognize Timothy Wilson, the linebacker and my ex-boyfriend’s best friend—my ex-boyfriend, Thad, who raises his blond head in my direction the exact moment I notice him among the small crowd.
I mean, who wouldn’t? The guy is huge, and he’s wearing a pink shirt.
His tan face breaks into a toothy grin when he notices me accidentally noticing him, a grin I once considered charming and handsome that I now know was all for show.
Thad Davis is no gentleman.
He tussles his sandy blond hair with his fingers, dipping his head to speak to Wilson, eyes locked on mine. Hand goes out to part the crowd, beginning his slow saunter in my direction.
Ugh.
He’s so obviously posturing with male bravado, I’d roll my eyes if I thought he was worth the time it would take.
Rhett palms his ball, throwing it as my eyes narrow, stalking the movements of my incredibly ridiculous ex-boyfriend.
I hear the telltale sound of a strike.
Turn to throw my arms around his neck, blocking out the looming figure that’s hell bent on invading my first official date with my new boyfriend.
Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll just go away.
“Hey Red,” comes his voice. “Long time no see.”
I stiffen at the sound of Thad’s nickname for me, loosening my arms from Rhett’s with a groan. Blush, aggravated. Turn to greet him.
“Thad…hey.”
My eyes roam his chest, scanning the words screen-printed on the pocket of his gaudy pink shirt: I’m not a gynecologist but I can take a look.
Classy guy, my ex-boyfriend. Not a pig whatsoever.
He reaches me in a few more strides, arms enveloping my shoulders, pulling me in for a squeeze and spinning me around. Sniffs the top of my hair like he used to do in the brief time we were dating before setting me down.
“Mmm, mmm, mmm. Damn Laurel, you smell as good as I remember.”
Over Thad’s shoulder, I watch as Rhett takes a slow drag of his water bottle, eyes scanning and never leaving Thad’s hands on my body. On the small of my back.
I cringe.
Give Thad a nudge out of my personal space, backing up three paces, putting distance between us. Slide my arm around Rhett’s waist when he sets down his water bottle.
The guys take measure, sizing each other up.
“Hey man.” Thad’s chin tilts toward Rhett. “Do I know you?”
Rhett gives his head a curt shake. “Nope, don’t think we’ve been introduced.”
“No, I do know you.” Thad studies him closer until it’s uncomfortable, snaps his fingers when he places Rhett in his gray matter. “Rabideaux.” He butchers the pronunciation: Rab-i-doo. “Didn’t they just plaster your face on the side of the stadium? For wrestling or some shit.”
Rhett nods. “Guess so. Marketing must be getting ready for the championships.”
“What?” I turn to him, excited. “You’re on a billboard? Rhett, that’s amazing!” I kiss his lips, unable to stop myself. “Imagine that, my baby’s face is on the side of the stadium?!”
Am I squealing? Bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet like a toddler on a sugar rush? I make a mental note to celebrate the special occasion with whipped cream and sprinkles on all his most delicious parts.
Thad’s face contorts, affronted. “You never called me baby.”
I can’t stop the bubble of laughter welling up inside me. Is this guy for real?
“Anyway.” He heaves a sigh, turning his attention back to me. Wiggles his brows suggestively, the big dope. “I came over to say hi, see what you’ve been up to. How long as it been?”
“I honestly have no idea.”
“Well I must say, you look…great.” He says it in a way that old, sleazy guys say it. It makes my skin crawl, and I sidle closer into the safety of Rhett’s warm side.
“Um, thanks.” My cheeks get as red as my hair, embarrassed that he’s kind of a douchebag and I wasted my time dating him. I cough. Rest my hand on Rhett’s forearm. “By the way Thad, this is my boyfriend Rhett.”
“Her boyfriend. Really.” Thad looks smug. “Thad Davis, her ex.”
“Ah, okay, this makes sense now.” Rhett, nonplussed, grins when my fingers tuck into one of his belt loops.
“Boyfriend huh?” My ex crosses his thick arms, hawk-like quarterback gaze studying my boyfriend. “So there’s no chance of you and me, you know…” His eyebrows do that weird, inappropriate wriggling thing again.
Rhett replies before I can get any infuriated words out. “Dude, what the fuck?”
Thad’s hands go up. “What? I’m just checking. Some couples are into that.”
“Well we’re not.” I put on my lying face. “It was really good seeing you again, but we’re heading out. Say hey to Wilson for me, would ya?”
“Why don’t you come over and say hi for yourself?”
“Another time maybe.”
“All right.” He’s so oblivious. “You should stop by the row sometime, stop in at the house.”
Um, yeah…no. I’m not an underclassman anymore; his popularity doesn’t lure me like it used to—like it does so many clueless girls, chasing the name and not the heart.
I snuggle into Rhett’s side, content. “Good luck with your season.”
“Yeah.” Green eyes drift to the guy at my side. “Yours too, Rabideaux. It was good meeting you. Take good care of my girl here.”
There’s a long, tension-charged pause. Then,
“She’s not your girl.” Rhett’s voice is low. Steely. “She’s mine.”
Whoa.
Whoa.
Whoa.
My mouth gapes, tuning them out, because what the hell was that?
She’s mine.
And the way he says it? With conviction, in his sexy southern accent? The insides of my panties are melting. Rhett, drawing boundaries, letting my ex-boyfriend know he crossed a line? Yes please.
I tighten my hold around his waist when Thad finally saunters off, pressing myself and my breasts against him, “That. Was. The sexiest thing. Ever.”
He rolls his gorgeous brown eyes. “What the hell were you doin’ datin’ that dickhole? I can’t fuckin’ believe you—”
I cut him off with a kiss. “Please don’t remind me. It’s not my finest moment.”
“I know, but damn Laurel, what a fuckin’—”
“Honey, please. Stop. I know he’s a dick. I get it.” I brush at an imaginary piece of hair on his forehead. “Not all guys are as amazing as you, okay? You’re a unicorn boyfriend.”
This piques his interest. “What the hell is a unicorn boyfriend?”
“Rare and hard to find in the wild. And you’re mine,” I croon in his ear. “What should we do now that our date is over, Rhett?” In the middle of the bowling alley, for everyone to see, my tongue traces his ear lobe. “Tell me, baby.”
“God that fucking word is my kryptonite,” he mumbles. “I want…to…”
“What?”
“I want to take you home and…” He stalls, unable to get the words out; I know he’s not accustomed to vocalizing what he wants—not just yet, but he’s been trying.
He’s getting there.
I’m patient, waiting him out.
“Je veux te baiser.” He nuzzles my neck, mouth on my pulse. “I want to fuck you.”
Holy shit, he did not just say that.
I have the biggest lady boner right now and do my best to nod my agreement without my legs giving out on me. “Yes.”
“Really?” He pulls back to study my face. “Just like that, we get to leave and have sex because I asked for it?”
“Yes,” I repeat, hands clasping around the back of his neck.
“Huh, how fucking cool is that?” he muses. “It’s really that easy?”
My laugh is light, arms still around his neck. “I’m your girlfriend now—of course I want you to take me home and…you know…” I hope my voice sounds sultry and that it hits his cerebellum in just the right spot. “Fuck me.”
“Jesus, now I’m hard.”
“I know,” I purr. “I can feel it.”
“What if I can’t wait ’til we get home?”
“You mean, like—do it in the Jeep?”
“Yeah.”
“All right.”
He grabs my hand, pulling. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”