by Aven Ellis
“Is it okay to talk to you?”
I furrow my brow. “What? Of course, why would you even ask that?”
“Making sure you’ve had enough coffee. For talkie.”
I’m burning my entire stupid T-shirt collection the second I get home.
My cheeks burn, and now I’m double irritated. First, because I have on another uninspired outfit in front of JP, and second, because I’m blushing. Why am I blushing again?
I reach for my iced coffee and take a sip, using that second to pull my rapidly unhinging self together.
“Iced coffee has been consumed,” I explain. “I’m absolutely game for conversation.”
“Good,” JP says, staring at me.
Oh, my, he’s going to be the end of me.
“I’m going to get a cappuccino. Do you need anything?” JP asks.
“No, thank you, I’m good,” I say.
Unless you count the jumble of nerves I feel inside whenever I’m around you. In that case, I’m a mess.
But, so far, it’s turning out to be a good mess.
Matt and JP go up to get their drinks, and I turn to Holly, who has the biggest grin on her face.
“Don’t say a word,” I warn her.
Holly takes a sip of her latte. “I don’t need to. Watching you two tells me everything I need to know. You’re very interested. No. I’m a writer, so let me change very because it’s too overused. You have more than a passing interest in JP. You’re captivated by him.”
I groan. “Captivated? What am I, the heroine in your next novel?”
“Ooh, good idea,” Holly says. “I’ll put you in my planner for the next book. Reese and JP.”
“Wrong. Your readers will hate that book. Holly Johansson is not known for writing stories about two characters hanging out.”
“Exactly,” Holly says seriously.
Matt comes back up and takes a seat next to Holly at the counter. He leans forward so he can talk to me.
“Going out with Rochat on Friday night, huh?”
My heart leaps. JP did talk about me.
“Yeah,” I say casually.
But my heart is reacting in anything but a casual way.
“It’s about time,” Matt says, smiling at me. “I’ve been telling him to make a move since last spring.”
What?
JP comes back and takes the seat next to me, so I can’t follow up on that comment, but I need to. I shift my attention to JP, wondering if he’s been interested in me since last spring. Have I been the woman on his thoughts all this time? The reason all his pics on Connectivity this summer were with his family and friends?
Stop. You’re being ridiculous.
I sound like I stalked him all summer on social media.
Looking at accounts of people you know isn’t stalking.
It’s staying informed.
That is my theory, and I’m sticking with it.
“How are you?” JP asks, his rich, deep voice practically reverberating down my spine and interrupting my rationalization of why I checked his status all summer.
“Tired,” I admit. “You?”
“Tired,” JP says, taking a sip of his cappuccino. “I stayed up too late texting this girl with feline-like eyes.”
Oh!
“Hopefully the texts made it worth it, Batman,” I flirt back.
“Yes,” JP says. “I find her interesting.”
Electricity sweeps through me, a new current like nothing I’ve experienced before when talking to a man.
“Hey,” Matt says, interrupting our conversation. “Are either of you guys busy tonight?”
I glance at JP.
“I have nothing going on,” JP says. “What about you, Reese?”
“No, nothing,” I say, wondering what I’m about to get myself into.
Matt and Holly exchange a knowing look, and I resist the urge to dive under the countertop and hide.
“Team Challenge. Bowling,” Matt says.
“Bowling?” I ask. “Oh, I haven’t bowled in forever.”
“Neither have I, so that’s fair,” Holly says.
“What’s the challenge?” JP asks.
I love how JP gets right down to the challenge part.
“You and Reese against me and Holly,” Matt says. “Losing team picks up the tab for bowling and dinner. But I know you’ll be paying, Rochat.”
Ooh, the gauntlet has been thrown down.
“I’m in,” JP says, “and we’re going upscale bowling, Rhinelander, at that place that has craft beer and lobster tails. Prepare to open your wallet because I don’t intend to lose.”
JP’s competitive streak is the same as mine. Holly and Matt are going down, despite the fact that I haven’t bowled in years and am moving with the efficiency of a one-hundred-year-old woman today.
“Are you in, Reese?” Matt asks.
“I’m so in,” I say.
I turn back to JP, who is smiling at me in a way that makes me practically melt.
As I smile back at him, I can’t help but wonder if I’m so in on multiple levels.
Not just with bowling.
But with one fantastically sexy Swiss man sitting next to me.
Chapter 6
September 13th
Today’s Schedule: Coffee with Holly, The Roast & Grind, 9 AM
Bowling at Uptown Strike, 7 PM
As I open the door and enter Uptown Strike, I reinforce my mantra for being around JP.
We’re friends.
Hanging out.
It’s all fun.
Casual.
I’m in complete control.
If at any point he shows his inevitable deal-breaking traits, strange habits, or if he’s a horrible kisser, we quit hanging out.
Wait. I said if.
Not when.
I mentally strike though if and replace it with when as I step inside the huge lounge of the bowling alley.
I take a moment to adjust to the dim lighting. Wow. Hip, indeed. Vintage hardwood floors; an old, rustic-style check-in counter; and large Chesterfield sofas dot the lounge. People are talking, laughing, and sipping on beers and cocktails and waiting for their lanes to be assigned. Straight ahead, I see the pine bowling lanes where the crash of a ball striking pins is followed by a cheer.
I scan the alley until I see Matt and Holly, all the way down at the end, next to a wall. Matt is showing Holly how to hold the ball, and they look so cute together.
Then I spot JP.
He’s sitting on a leather sofa, checking his phone. He’s changed into a deep green T-shirt, and I have no doubt this will make his amazing eyes appear even greener up close.
He lifts his head, his gaze scanning back up toward the front door, across the lounge, and then they stop.
Right on me.
An excited, breathless feeling takes over the second he notices me. JP gets up, and as he heads across the alley toward me, every nerve I have jumps. A tingling feeling sweeps over my spine, and, oh, my, the second he smiles at me—
Those damn butterflies appear.
I swallow as his smile deepens as he gets closer. JP’s in jeans and I notice, instead of shoes, he has on a pair of khaki and green argyle socks.
Help.
He’s sexy.
And he knows the importance of patterns in socks.
“Hey, Reese,” JP says in greeting. “I’m glad my partner made it.”
I don’t speak for a moment. Oh, yes, his eyes have definitely taken on a greener hue, but the beautiful amber flecks still shine through. The T-shirt shows off his broad chest and strong shoulders. My eyes travel down a bit further, to his muscular, tanned forearms, and t
hen back up to his face, which is shaded with the slightest hint of a five o’clock shadow.
He’s devastatingly handsome.
JP leans in and gives me a friendly hug, affectionately drawing me into his chest and squeezing my shoulder.
My heart pounds from the unexpected contact with him. I’m acutely aware of how the electric current shoots through me the second he touches me. My arm instinctively goes around his back. My brain goes crazy recording everything I’m feeling: how his chest is rock hard underneath the soft fabric of his green T-shirt; how the scent of lavender on his clothing mingles with the strong, ginger-infused scent of his cologne; and how warm his hand feels against my bare arm.
He steps back and grins at me. “I like your bowling outfit.”
I’m in a plain white T-shirt, skinny jeans, and my white Chuck Taylors. In case this place was cold, I threw a long-sleeved red flannel shirt around my waist and tied it in a knot at the front.
“Well, if we get serious about this, I promise I’ll invest in an appropriately campy bowling shirt and shoes.”
JP’s eyes widen in surprise at my words, and I realize what came out of my mouth.
Get serious?
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Which is apparently my new mantra for JP.
“If we get serious about bowling,” JP says, a smile playfully tugging at the corner of his mouth, “then we have to get shirts with names on them. Yours needs to say Catwoman.”
Whew. JP didn’t read anything in my words that I didn’t mean.
“Only if yours says Batman.”
“Deal,” JP says, grinning at me.
We go to the shoe rental counter, and JP insists on paying for mine.
“JP, you bought my dinner the other night,” I say, putting my hand out to stop him.
“I can handle the shoes,” JP says. “Besides, Rhinelander is going to pick up the tab for dinner, remember?”
I groan as a pair of cobalt and bright yellow shoes are parked in front of me.
“Apparently, I’m bowling for Sweden,” I quip, taking them from the clerk while JP pays. “Thank you.”
“I should demand you wear red and white for Switzerland if I’m paying,” JP teases.
I watch as he hands the clerk some cash and then shifts his attention back to me.
“Come on, let’s bowl.”
He begins to walk, and with my muscles even worse than yesterday, it’s hard to keep up with him. Oh crap, how am I going to bowl? My arms are toast from the ropes and planking I did on that shoot, not to mention how shredded my legs are from all that spinning and squat jumping.
Mind over matter, I will myself.
I grab a bowling ball, going light since my muscles are screaming. When we reach our lane, I see Holly is leaning over Matt while he types something into the scoring system.
Holly looks up, and her brown eyes shine with excitement. “Hey, Reese! Are you ready to bowl? Because I’m not!”
“Don’t let the enemy know your weak points,” Matt says, glancing up with a wicked grin.
“Matt, I haven’t bowled since I was twelve, and it’s no secret to Reese that I didn’t inherit the same athletic genes as Nate.”
I smile as I set my bowling ball down. Nate Johansson is a star player on the Dallas Demons, one who was traded to Dallas, along with Matt, from the Minnesota Black Bears a few years ago. Holly is Nate’s sister, and whereas Nate is blessed with supreme athletic ability . . . well, Holly is not athletic.
At all.
So, despite my muscle soreness, I still have the edge.
I slip out of my Chuck Taylors and put on my bowling shoes. I glance up at the screen displaying our scores and see Matt has typed in Team Ravenclaw for him and Holly, which is the cutest thing ever because Holly is a huge Potterhead.
“What’s our team going to be called, JP?” I ask.
JP is slipping on his shoes, which are bright red and green. “Try not to be jealous of the shoes Father Christmas gave me,” he deadpans.
“I’m so jelly,” I say, grinning.
“I have an idea for a team name,” JP says, as he finishes tying his shoe and standing up. “Do I need to run this by you first, or are you willing to take a chance and let me go with it?”
JP has no clue I’ve done nothing but take chances since we ran into each other last night.
And hopefully, I won’t regret it later.
I shove the thought from my head and re-focus on our conversation.
“Are we team ‘Christmas in Sweden’?” I ask.
JP laughs, and my stomach tingles in response to the rich sound.
“That’s better than mine, but no,” he says, moving over to the keyboard and beginning to type. After he’s done keying it in, he hits enter and our team name appears on the screen:
TEAM SELINA AND BRUCE
My heart leaps. Giddiness takes over.
Because I know exactly what JP means by this.
And the uncontrollable butterflies take off once again.
JP finishes and returns to my side. “Do you know what that means?”
“Who do you think you’re talking to?” I say, flirting with him. “Of course I do. Selina Kyle is Catwoman’s alter ego, and Bruce is obviously Bruce Wayne. You’re going to have to work harder to stump my DC Comics database.”
JP’s eyes flicker with interest. “You are a fan.”
“I love comic book movies.”
“She does,” Holly adds. “I can’t get her to watch any form of romcom movies.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Ugh, no.”
“No romantic comedies?” JP asks, furrowing his brow. “Ever?”
“Nope. I love action movies.”
“Maybe you haven’t seen the right ones,” JP suggests.
“Maybe I know I’d rather watch The Avengers or Guardians of the Galaxy. If you really want to roll the dice, try to test my Marvel knowledge. It’s as solid as my DC Comics mental inventory, by the way.”
“Is that a challenge?” JP asks.
“If you want it to be.”
JP’s eyes don’t waver from mine.
“Challenge accepted.”
Ooh!
The alley is stifling now. That, or I’m going through some freakish hormonal change that is making me break out into hot flashes.
That only happens to occur whenever I’m talking to JP.
The server comes by and greets us, and we quickly put in a drink order. I wait to see what JP does. Usually when I’m with Matt and Holly in public, I get water, like they do. Matt used to be known for his partying ways, but since he’s been with Holly, that’s changed. He drinks occasionally at home, but he’s incredibly aware of his public image now and guards it carefully.
“Water is fine,” JP says when it’s his turn.
“Hmm. Do you have lemonade?” I ask.
“We do,” the server says, smiling at me. “Strawberry, blueberry, or lavender.”
“Oh,” I say, thinking over my choices. “Wow, this is hard. They all sound so good.”
JP snickers, and I shoot him a look. “What?”
“Do you always wrestle with the menu?”
“Shut up,” I say. “Um . . . um . . . lavender.”
“It’s terrific,” the server says, nodding.
“What do you recommend for appetizers?” Matt asks.
“Depends on what you are in the mood for,” the server says. “We have a great seafood starter board with shrimp cocktail, oysters on the half-shell, and stone crab claws.”
“Bingo,” Matt says.
I see JP is scanning a menu he’s picked up off the table. “Can we add the assorted veggies and green goddess dip, too?”
“Of course,” she says, nodding. “Anything else?”
“Um, I’m sorry, but can I change my lemonade to blueberry?” I ask, having buyer’s remorse.
“Of course,” she says, smiling at me.
“Please bring her one of each,” JP says. “She’s my teammate, and I want to see her happy tonight.”
“Good plan,” the server says, retreating to place our order.
After she leaves, I turn to JP.
“That was nice of you.”
“I can’t stand to see you tortured,” JP says. “One extra drink to make you happy? Of course, I’ll do it.”
I know this is bowling and we’re talking about a glass of lemonade, but his thoughtfulness touches me.
“All right, let’s get this match on,” Matt says. “Coin flip to see who goes first.”
Matt retrieves a quarter from his pocket. “What do you call?”
“Heads,” JP says.
“Reese, you confirm it,” Matt says.
I nod. Matt flips the coin in the air and catches it, holding it to his hand. He lifts it up and I peek at it.
“Heads,” I say triumphantly. “You’re going down, Ravenclaw.”
Holly begins to laugh. “You all kill me. You’re so serious about this. It’s bowling.”
“So?” I challenge.
She shakes her head. Matt sits down and draws her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close while he affectionately kisses the side of her cheek.
If I were to have relationship goals, that would be it. To have a man make me feel so loved and secure, to have a man look at me the way Matt looks at Holly, to know our love is forever, is definitely the ultimate relationship goal.
But I know the other side of relationships, too. How painful and unfulfilling they can be. How hard it is to find that kind of closeness, how unlikely it is to have the right combination that makes you want a serious relationship.
Matt and Holly might have the fairy tale, I think, but that’s rare.
