“I’d love to take you for a ride. Early morning works best on the weekends. Less traffic.”
A couple miles down the road, I point out the sub shop and she pulls in. We head inside, order, and sit at a table while we wait for our sandwiches. I tell Autumn about some of my favorite places to ride during the early hours of the day. On a few occasions, I left town earlier than I leave the house for work and drove north. An hour or two north, the roads have fewer commuters and there are several small towns with attractive scenery. If the opportunity ever presents itself, I would love to take Autumn on one of those day trips.
“It’d be nice to visit these places you’re telling me about.”
“Well, if you’re ever up for it, let me know.”
A man deposits lunch on the table and walks off with the numbered plastic tent. We dig into our sandwiches and eat in silence for a minute. For some reason, a weird vibe bounces off Autumn. Not sure if it is because I mentioned going out of town on the bike or if it’s something else altogether. She never mentioned how the rest of her weekend went.
“Sorry I didn’t get to ask earlier, but how was the rest of your weekend?”
She finishes chewing the bite in her mouth, but still covers her mouth with her hand when she speaks. “Good. Went out for breakfast yesterday. Then binged on snacks and Netflix. I was definitely not productive.” She laughs and it is music to my ears.
“Love those kinds of days. I try to have one at least once a month. Spartan and I spent most of the day digging up old flower beds in the back yard. Previous owners had a thing for cementing pavers together. Was probably a great idea thirty-plus years ago, but now it’s just horrible.”
The rest of lunch goes by way too fast, and before I know it, we have to head back to the garage.
At the traffic light two blocks before the garage, I lean my back against the passenger window and soak up every inch of Autumn. I want to kiss her again. Soon.
“Are you busy tomorrow night?” I ask.
She peeks up at the red light then over to me. “Haven’t checked my schedule for work yet. Why?”
“I’m meeting friends at the bowling alley. Cora should be there. We get together at least once a week. Tomorrow, we’re bowling. Wanted to know if you’d care to join.”
She tucks her lips between her teeth and I want to reach over and pop them out. But I don’t.
“When I get to work, I’ll check my schedule. What time is everyone meeting up?”
“Seven. We usually bowl a couple games and call it a night.”
“I’ll tentatively say yes, but let you know if there’s a schedule conflict.”
She steers the car into the garage lot and stops parallel to the storefront. I unbuckle my belt and lean toward her. Her eyes drop to my lips and I take it as a sign of permission to kiss her.
The moment my lips graze hers, the cooler December temperatures vanish. Our slow and sweet kiss ends far too soon. “I’ll text you the details for tomorrow night when I’m off work.”
Our lips a breath apart, her eyes shift back and forth between mine. “Look forward to it,” she says, voice drug laced and lips parted.
One last chaste kiss and I force myself to exit the car. “See you tomorrow.” She nods, and I love how I struck her speechless.
I turn on my heel and walk back to the garage bay with an ear-to-ear smile. Dad spots me. “Good lunch?”
Best damn lunch in the history of lunches.
Thirteen
Autumn
Is this a mistake?
I turn into the parking lot of the bowling alley. Since when are bowling alleys this busy on a Tuesday night? Sure, it has been forever and a day since I have set foot in one, but it was always a weekend day. And every place is busy on the weekend.
Winding through the lot, I park Betsy and cut the engine. Facing the entrance of the bowling alley, I scan the sea of faces standing outside. Among them is Jonas. With his messy chocolate strands, broad shoulders, and booming laughter, I will always be able to pinpoint him in a crowd.
He stands with two other women—a dirty-blonde nearly as tall as him and a curly redhead closer to my height. For a moment, I observe how he interacts with them. By the ease at which they interact, it’s evident they all know one another. They smile and laugh and look completely comfortable with one another. When the blonde pushes at Jonas’s chest and the trio laughs in unison, the little green monster perks up on my shoulder as a rush of jealousy spikes my bloodstream.
“Get it together,” I chide myself. “Men and women have non-romantic relationships all the time.”
Nothing but truth. After all, the same can be said about some of my male friends. Then why does seeing Jonas so casual and relaxed with two other women make my jaw clench? More than likely, it is the result of not dating or being in a committed relationship for years.
Taking a deep breath, I open the door and exit the car. Seven steps forward and Jonas homes in on my presence. Locks eyes with me. Stops listening to the two women at his side. Smiles so wide, the dimple I love makes an appearance. Pushes off the wall and walks my direction. Meets me a few feet from the paved walkway around the building.
“Hey,” he says as he steps into my space.
“Hi.”
When he drops his lips to mine, I don’t stop him. If anything, I encourage him to give me more. His tongue sweeps over mine and I moan. He tastes of cherry cola and desire. Far too soon, he breaks the kiss and chuckles under his breath as I lean into him.
“If we keep this up, we’ll never see the inside of the bowling alley.” Sounds good to me. He laces his fingers with mine. “C’mon. Let me introduce you to Shelly and Erin.”
Hand in hand, we walk back to where he stood earlier. Where the two women he chatted with stand. “‘Kay,” I whisper.
A few strides forward, he pauses. “Everything alright?”
I nod and tighten my hold on his hand. “Yeah. Just nervous. Don’t hang with new people often.”
He drops my hand and I pout until he frames my face with his palms. “It’ll be okay. Promise. Everyone is pretty chill. Plus, Cora and Gavin will be here too.” He plants a chaste kiss on my lips and I silently beg for another.
We step up to the two women and I paste on a polite smile. If I thought they were attractive from a distance, I was sorely mistaken. Attractive isn’t the proper term. Because up close, they captivate and hold my attention more. And the wicked green monster pops up on my shoulder again, swinging its legs and whistling. Shut up.
“Shelly” —Jonas gestures to the blonde, then the redhead— “Erin, this is Autumn. Autumn, this is Shelly and Erin. Shelly and Cora have been friends since boys were gross. And Erin works with Cora.”
I extend my hand to each of them. “Nice to meet you both.”
Shelly performs a quick scan. “You are fucking cute.” I laugh and peek up at Jonas who chuckles under his breath. “Really dig your vibe.”
“Thanks.” Although we just met, it’s easy to see Shelly is a hoot.
Jonas wraps his arm around my shoulders. “Ladies, let’s head inside and grab lanes. Everyone else should be here soon.”
We stroll through the automatic doors and are immediately hit with the cacophony of Tuesday nights at the bowling alley. Colorful globes of resin clash against wooden pins. Upbeat dance music booms from the overhead speakers. Patrons hoot and holler and cheer each other on. Claps and whistles. Middle-age adults jumping off the floor when they manage to knock all the pins down.
The energy is boisterous and infectious.
We pay for shoes and get assigned two lanes. On our way to the lane, we pass the bowling alley’s food bar. Melted cheese and baked bread and cinnamon sugar waft up my nose. My stride falters and Jonas pauses beside me.
“You okay?”
I point over at the neon lights highlighting every party food known to man. “Yep. Just swallowing down my hunger.”
He laughs. “After we get everything set up, we’ll order
food.”
After swapping out our shoes, Shelly, Erin, and I venture off to find a ball. Can’t remember the last time I bowled, let alone what weight ball I used when I played. Once I decide on a lime green, eight-pound ball, I head back to the lane where more bodies have congregated.
Cora and Gavin stand near the seats of the left lane we rented. Arms wrapped around each other; she looks up at him as if no one else is here. Maybe it holds true for them. Their happiness makes me smile and spreads warmth in my chest.
I set my ball down and sidle up to Jonas. He curls his arm around my waist. “Everyone else is here. Let me introduce you.” I nod and bite the inside of my cheek. “Hey guys.” Six sets of eyes glance over at us. “This is Autumn.” Although I have met four of the six, the attention from all of them makes me wilt into Jonas’s side. “Autumn, this is Cora, Gavin, Shelly, Erin, Micah, and Trevor.” With each name Jonas prattles off, he points to each person.
Lifting a hand, I wave to the obviously tight-knit group as heat crawls up my neck and lands on my cheeks. “Hey everyone. Nice to meet you.” I am not necessarily a shy person. Hell, sometimes I am pretty outgoing. Just don’t prefer the spotlight. Especially around new faces.
“Let’s order food while everyone finishes getting ready,” Jonas suggests.
Three pizzas, two pretzels, a basket of loaded fries, and two churros ordered later, we head back to the lanes with two pitchers of beer and glasses. The young girl at the counter told us they would bring the food to our lane soon.
We settle in the chairs at the lane. Jonas places an arm around my shoulder and inches closer to me while I snack on the churros. As we wait for Trevor and Gavin to come back with a ball, I people watch the group Jonas calls family.
The dynamic between all of them is fascinating. If I had to guess—strictly by appearances and the way they interact—Shelly and Micah must be siblings. Same dark blonde hair. Same dark blue eyes. And they tease each other in a way only brothers and sisters do. When Gavin winds his way back over to us, I follow his every move until he sits down next to Cora. Who is staring at me. With piqued intensity.
Nothing in the way she watches me feels malicious or worrisome. If anything, she studies me with intrigue. Beside me, Jonas talks to Trevor—who I hadn’t realized returned—with his arm still around my shoulders. A small smile perks up the corners of Cora’s mouth. But her smile amplifies when Jonas stops talking to Trevor and he presses his lips to my temple.
Cora is happy for me. For Jonas. And her silent interest says more than any words could express.
Jonas drops his lips lower and his breath heats the shell of my ear. “Ready to bowl?”
You have no idea. “Yes.”
One by one, we roll our ball down the oil-slicked lane and occasionally knock down pins. Early on, I learn Jonas, Shelly, and Trevor play a decent game. The rest of us are mediocre. The first game ends and I land a whopping seventy-eight points. Thankfully, I don’t stand alone in my meh score. And I didn’t score the lowest.
I snag a third slice of pizza and laugh when Jonas catches me scarfing it down. “What?” I ask around a mouthful of dough, cheese, ham, and pineapple.
He steps up to me, rests his hands on my hips, and draws me close. “Nothing. You’re just so damn cute.” I swallow my bite just before he leans down and kisses me.
Not sure if it’s because we are surrounded by hundreds of people—and a handful of Jonas’s close friends—but this kiss feels different. Loaded. Intense. Powerful.
Jonas brings both his hands to my cheeks and holds me reverently as our lips move in time and his tongue dips inside my mouth. I reach forward and grip the hem of his shirt, bringing him closer. Warmth radiates off his chest and seeps into every one of my pores. Heats every molecule in my body and fevers my skin. The cacophony surrounding us vanishes. Bursts of red and orange splash the backs of my eyelids like fireworks in the night sky. The pericardium encasing my heart swells and constricts with each frenzied swipe of his tongue against mine.
I drag him impossibly closer. Deepen the kiss. Sink my nails in his hips. Moan against his lips.
Until someone coughs behind Jonas and dumps a bucket of ice water over us.
“Sorry to interrupt, man. You’re up,” an embarrassed Gavin says.
If anyone should be embarrassed, it sure as hell shouldn’t be him. It should be me. He wasn’t making out in the middle of the bowling alley like a hormonal teenager. Nope, that was most definitely me.
Jonas inches back and meets my eyes. His palms still pressed to my cheeks; I swelter beneath the swirl of his irises. Like two thermal hot springs, they smolder as the blue and gold and orange devour me. I can’t look away. Won’t look away.
He places one last, all too brief kiss on my lips. I visibly pout when he retreats and he chuckles. “Be right back.”
Stepping up to the ball return, he picks up his ball, positions himself, and follows through. The ball whirls down the lane and knocks all the pins down with a loud whack. He returns to my side and kisses my temple.
“You’re up,” he whispers against my skin.
I bowl my turn and knock down nine—which is better than most of the frames in the first game—and slap a few high fives on my way back to Jonas. A few more frames pass with oohs and aw mans. The laughter is nonstop and I quickly love this group of people. They remind me of my tat family. Not conventional by any means, but everyone cares about each other. How real family should be.
As Jonas refills his beer, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I tug it out, glance at the screen, and let Jonas know I will be right back.
Stepping away from the lane, I head near the entrance where it is somewhat quieter. Covering my left ear with my palm, I lift the phone to my right. “Hello?”
“Hey, someone wants to say good night,” Penny says.
I step a little farther from the noise. On the other end, the phone changes hands and a sweet voice filters through the speaker. “Hi, Mama. Are you having fun?”
“Hey, pumpkin. I am. Are you and Auntie Penny having fun?”
“Yep. We watched The Nightmare Before Christmas again.”
I laugh internally. Penny groans every time Clementine wants to watch it. Probably because she has seen it a hundred times. “Was it good?”
“Better than last time,” she announces. “What time will you be home?”
“In a little bit. My friends and I are almost done playing our game. Then I’ll be home.”
“Okay, Mama. I love you.”
I smile into the phone. “Love you too. I’ll kiss you when I get home.”
“M’kay. Night night.”
“Good night.”
As I disconnect the call, I look up and spot a confused Jonas a few feet away. Shit.
Is there ever a good time to tell someone you’re dating you have a seven-year-old daughter? Nope. Because no matter the reason, Jonas will be upset I haven’t told him about her. Which will end in one of two results. One—he will drop me faster than a hot pan. Or two—we will stay together, but his trust in me will diminish for a bit until I can prove myself again.
Either way, it sucks.
“Who was that?” Jonas asks, pointing to my phone.
I want to tell him. Want to let him in on this part of my life. But it’s too soon. We still have so much to learn about each other before I let him know this other part of my world exists. And I don’t let many people know Clementine exists for one reason. Hurt.
If Jonas decides to stop seeing me because I have a daughter, I can suck up the pain that will undoubtedly consume me with his absence. But my daughter, she doesn’t need to feel hurt or pain or sadness. It’s horrible enough her own father has never been around. Never seen her face or heard her precious laughter. I don’t need Clementine to suffer the loss of a pseudo-father.
“Penny called,” I say.
He purses his lips and breaks eye contact. “Does she often call for a love you and good night?” His tone isn’t angry or spitefu
l. But he knows I am not telling him the whole truth. And this is not the right time or place.
But before the end of the night, I will have to tell Jonas about Clementine. Hopefully afterward, he won’t hate me for keeping the biggest secret from him.
Fourteen
Jonas
Am I an asshole? Because right now it is difficult to tell.
A minute ago, I heard Autumn tell whoever she was talking to that she loved them, would kiss them when she got home, and wished them a good night. When I asked her who she was talking to, she said Penny called. Is her relationship with Penny more than friends? Because I didn’t sign up for that.
But here I am, lipping off like a douchebag. Throwing accusations at my girlfriend when I haven’t given her the chance to explain anything. Going against everything my parents taught me—which is to never assume. All assumptions do is cause harm and way too much stress.
Yep. Official asshole.
We walk back to the lane in silence. Usually, silence with Autumn is easy. Comfortable. Pleasant.
This new version of silence sucks.
Every few steps, I peek over at her out of the corner of my eye and berate myself mentally. Autumn hangs her head—not sure if she is embarrassed, angry or upset. Regardless, I hate how I put her in a foul mood. How I am the reason she went from enjoying a night out with me and my friends to probably wishing she wasn’t here.
Before I buck up the courage to apologize, we reach the lane. She lifts her head, smiles, and pretends like the last few minutes never happened.
For the next five frames, neither of us speaks. We don’t whisper to each other, kiss or remotely touch. And I hate every single second. It sears my heart like a branding iron. Except this brand doesn’t mark me as hers, it just keeps pressing on and scalds until I black out from the pain.
When the game ends, Cora sidles up beside me as Autumn puts her ball back on the rack.
Fine Line (Inked Duet #1) Page 11
