AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A swarm of butterflies took flight in her stomach, and she blamed the black lights—and his white t-shirt. Both, actually, because they were the perfect tag-team, working together to both hug and illuminate every ridge and valley of this man’s entire upper body.
He turned to her, hand extended. “You’re up first.”
She looked at his outstretched hand like it might disappear with apoof.A refreshing mirage in the middle of the desert. Something she definitely wanted but was still unsure about, which was silly. It was a man’s hand, for crying out loud. A gesture extended to older adults to help them stand up. That was probably all he meant by it.
But when she slid her fingers across the warmth of his palm, she melted. And when his fingers tightened around her hand, she lost her breath.
You can do this, Lucy. Just walk toward the lane and try not to pass out.
She willed her legs to take one step and then a second, surprising herself when she didn’t trip and land right into his arms. But would that have been so bad?
Yes.
Somehow, she got the feeling that if she ever found herself in his arms like that again, she’d never want to leave. And what did she know about him, really? That he was nice? Yes. That he was helpful, a good worker? Yes to all the above. But she didn’tknow him,know him. So why had she spilled her guts to him at the fire station? Had she gotten so drunk off the way he’d listened to her and supported her art—unlike some of the most important people in her life—that she’d word-vomited something she’d held secret all this time?
The fact that she’d been burnt by people she’d known a lot better than Eric should have hit her like a bucket of ice water on her head. It should have made her take a step back and not let his spicy scent envelop her and cocoon her like the fluffy blanket she kept on the back of her couch. It didn’t.
But the man walking through the door did.
Chad.
She dropped Eric’s hand like it had burned her. It hadn’t, of course. She missed the comforting warmth of it immediately. But there he was—the reminder of her last time in this small town—giving bro-hugs to his cohorts and laughing so raucously half the patrons in the alley stared in his direction.
“Is that someone you know?” Eric asked, his brows drawn together, his eyes rounded in her direction.
Yes. But I wish I didn’t.
“He’s…someone I knew a while back.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“I’m ready to bowl,” she blurted with the enthusiasm of an entire pep club at the start of a game. Overcompensating for the cinderblock of dread that sat in her gut was her full-time job now.
“Are you?” Eric asked, most likely sensing the topic of Chad was not something she wanted to discuss. Smart man.
“Yes, I’m ready.”
“To bowl, I’m sure you are. But for this? Oh, you are sonotready.” A smile spread across the entire lower half of his face as his shoulder raised and lowered to the beat of the music, not unlike the beginning of the “Thriller” dance. Only, that wasn’t the song playing.
“What exactly am I not ready for?” She barely got the words out before she choked on laughter. Because here he was, this burly man, holding an imaginary microphone and singing so off-key he wasn’t even in a key, to a Whitney Houston song.
“Come on, Luce…I reeeeeeally wanna dance with somebody,” he shouted between verses.
Who was this man? And why was he out here, in plain sight of an entire bowling alley, belting out one of the greatest pop music hits of all time while gyrating his hips like someone doing “TheTwist” after chugging a case of Red Bull.
The twinkle in his eye under the glowing lights of the facility told her everything she needed to know. He knew how bad he looked. And he didn’t care. He was doing this forher.He was shimmying his shoulders and singing like a dying cat because she needed a smile.
Lucy was no stranger to making a fool out of herself. But here he was, being a fool himself, for the sole purpose of making her happy. And that deserved more than a thank you.
So, she hopped up, meeting him on the slightly raised wood floor next to the ball return, and joined him. As he wrapped an arm around her back, pulling her against his firm chest, she also felt the heat—just like the song said. But was she dancing with somebody who loved her? Nah, it was way too soon for that. But as she moved with his body to the music, letting him pull and sway her to the beat, Stella’s words echoed in her mind. How much of her past was she letting live rent free in her head? How much of it dictated everyday decisions she made? And how freeing would it be if she just…lived?
The song ended, and if they’d attracted the attention of every person in the bowling alley (and they probably had), Lucy didn’t care. All she cared about right now was the man who’d put himself out there for her. And maybe it was time for her to do the same.
“I believe this belongs to you, miss,” Eric said, handing the small bowling ball to her with a bow of his head like a prince presenting her with a glass slipper. He brushed a stray hair behind her ear and cupped her face, settling her rapid breathing with a single brush of his thumb across her cheek.
She grabbed the ball, thanking him as she plugged her fingers into the three holes. After a steadying breath, she made her way to the foul line and paused. She might have been wrong about a lot of things in her life. She certainly had the stat sheet to prove it. But she was right about this: Eric was becoming someone she could trust…with anything. Maybe even her heart.
ChapterEight
