Clearing his throat, he said, “We should maybe get in a little bowling seeing that we’re here.”
She looked up and around them as if she’d in fact forgotten where they were. “Right,” she said, tossing her phone into her purse. “I’ll warn you, the last time I played I was twelve.”
“We’re in the same boat,” Duncan said as he stretched his shoulders and rotated his neck. “But we’re only playing a friendly game.”
Walking over to their lane, Retta sort of curtsied and released the ball she’d picked up. It landed straight in the gutter.
He clapped. “That’s okay.”
She muttered something then squared her shoulders before sending the next one down the lane. This time, she was able to eliminate all the pins save for two.
They swapped places, and he stepped up to the front and bowled. His ball only clipped the side of one pin before miserably falling into the gutter. The next bowl was far worse. The uncooperative sphere landed in the damned trench almost immediately after he released it from his hand.
“Warmup round,” Duncan said as he and Retta passed each other.
It proved true for Retta because she hit a strike and a spare on her next two turns. Duncan, on the other hand, failed to get more than three pins to fall. While he was on a mediocre streak, Retta continued to get excellent scores to the point where Duncan was impressed with her skill but worried that he’d lost all his athletic ability between the time he’d woken up and now.
After a particularly bad bowl, Duncan turned around to find Retta fighting a smile.
“What?”
“You’re throwing it like you’re trying to make craters in the floor,” she said.
Damn. He looked back to where he’d bowled.
She laughed. It was high-pitched and staccato, and the most captivating thing. It was also the first time he’d ever seen her truly relaxed.
Advancing toward her, he said, “So, all I’m hearing is I have massive biceps, and my strength is my weakness.”
“Sure,” she said, giving his arms an impassive look. “Or you just suck at bowling.”
He raised one brow. “That’s a challenge if I ever heard one.”
“No. As you said, we’re playing a friendly game…that I’m winning.”
She tossed her straightened hair fashioned in a half updo over her shoulder. “My turn.”
Would the fake dating guidebook consider any of this flirting? Maybe. But he’d have to get props for ignoring the way she would pull her jeans up by the belt loops before each bowl. Her thighs would jiggle some, and when she’d bend down, her ass would—
Okay, so maybe he was paying more attention than he’d care to admit.
When it was his turn once again, he was determined to have a gentler hand while rolling the ball. It worked, and he received his highest score yet. Retta responded by patting his arm like he was some puppy who’d managed not to eat his own shit. She went on to score another strike.
“‘Last time I bowled I was twelve,’ my ass,” he said, watching her saunter back.
Raising her hands, she said, “I promise you I’m as shocked as you are.”
It didn’t matter for too long, however, because after a few more rounds, they were neck and neck. He pumped his fist on his way back to the plastic chairs.
“Remind me never to give you advice,” she said as she looked at their even scores before heading back up.
“That’s not good sportsmanship,” he said as she readied to send a ball down.
Unfortunately, before she released it, Duncan happened to cough. The disruption resulted in a skewed bowl.
“You did that on purpose,” she said, coming right up to him.
“I didn’t,” he said. But the laugh he released in response to her overly serious expression, undermined his statement. “I don’t need to cheat to win.”
