For the Win Read online

  After a little texting back and forth, we agreed to meet at the Golden Fish, the bar owned by her roommate’s boyfriend. As I near the place, I see her standing on the sidewalk outside.

  A smile breaks out on my face.

  Her hair is down again tonight, in long waves of all different shades of gold and honey and amber. She’s wearing jeans—first time I’ve seen her in jeans—skinny, dark jeans that fit her slender curves perfectly, with a black-and-white graphic T-shirt and a tiny red leather jacket over it. On her feet are metallic gold flats.

  I pull up to the curb and lift my hand. She spots me, and her spontaneous smile leaves no mistaking that she’s happy to see me too.

  Something inside my chest puffs up.

  She slides in and pulls the door closed. We turn to each other, both smiling like jackasses eating thistles, as my Grandpa Clark says.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi. How are you?”

  “Good. Especially now.”

  Her eyes warm. “Did you miss me?” she teases.

  “Like I’d miss my left nut.”

  She laughs lightly. “Okay, then.”

  I put my vehicle in drive, look over my shoulder, and pull away from the curb.

  “Where are we going?” she asks, tugging her seatbelt across her body.

  “Bowling.”

  “Whaaat?”

  “Yep.”

  “I love bowling!”

  “You do?”

  “Sure.”

  “You’re not just making me feel better for taking you on a lame date?”

  Her lips curve upward. “I won’t know if it’s a lame date until later.”

  “Ah. Good answer.”

  I drive us to Freeze Frame, which is one of the oldest bowling alleys in Los Angeles. It’s been refurbished and has a really cool retro vibe, with antique furniture, the original vaulted wood ceiling, and big framed vintage posters on the walls.

  Arya is practically bouncing as we wait to get our bowling shoes, and she snatches hers from the attendant and heads to our lane. She plops herself down on an old leather couch and switches out her pointy-toed flats for bowling shoes. She takes off her jacket and tosses it onto the couch.

  Her T-shirt says “ZEN AF.”

  I grin.

  I watch in amusement as she tests out the shoes, then does a series of stretching moves.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Warming up.” She jumps up and down on the balls of her feet.

  I rub my jaw. “Okay.”

  Like a gentleman, I let her go first.

  She holds the ball up in front of her, takes a few smooth steps, bringing her arm back and letting the ball roll off it. I stare as it zooms down the center of the lane and takes out all ten pins.

  She laughs with delight and pumps her arms in the air. “Strike!”

  “What the…”

  She turns and skips back toward me. “I used to bowl in a league when I was younger.”

  “Uh-oh.” I pick up a ball. “Why do I have a feeling I’m about to get my ass kicked?”

  “Oh, come on.” She nudges me with her shoulder. “You’re a professional athlete.”

  I purse my lips and focus as I aim my ball up the middle. It looks good at first, but somehow I put some curve on it and it hits the gutter when it nears the pins. “Damn!”

  “Maybe you should have warmed up,” Arya suggests helpfully.

  “Ha ha.”

  “My team was named the Ball Busters,” she informs me.

  I choke. “Okay, good to know.”

  My next ball takes out a few center pins, leaving one on the left and two on the right.

  “Split happens,” Arya says cheerfully. “That’s a six-seven-ten split. Would you like to know what my strategy would be?”

  “I’m flattered that you think I have the ability to carry out any strategy,” I say. “My goal is basically to not end up in the gutter.”

  She laughs again and stands next to me, leaning in. She points. “Go for the tenpin.” She nudges me over. “Line your body up with the ten-pin…like so. But look at the right side of the six-pin.”

  I don’t have the heart to tell her I don’t know which pin is which.

  She steps back to let me take the shot. “This is a hard shot for anyone.”

  As expected, the ball rolls right through the empty space in the middle.

  Also as expected, I lose. Who knew she was a kick-ass bowler? Usually I’m super competitive, but tonight? I don’t even care about losing because she’s having so much fun.

  As we make our way to the bar for a beer and pizza, she pats my back. “Don’t feel bad. Bowling takes balls.”

  I snort-laugh. “Funny.”

  “I was going to tell you more bad bowling puns, but I thought I’d spare you.”

  I laugh. “Enough!”

  She grins. “Sorry. I’m pretty sure I know every bowling joke there is.”

  God, I love it that her eyes are sparkling and her lips are tipped up in a happy curve.

  Chapter 13

  Arya

  I haven’t bowled in so long! This is really fun. I didn’t actually bowl that well, compared to how I used to play, but it was enough to beat Harrison. He’s being a good sport about it, despite his grumbling at the beginning. I’m pretty sure he likes to win at everything, so it touches me that he seems happy for me.

  Did I mention it’s been a while since I had sex?

  There’s no other explanation for the fact that watching Harrison bowl is turning me on.

  He may not be the best bowler in the world, but he’s athletic and coordinated, and watching him move is a definite turn-on. His jeans stretching over his thighs and butt when he threw the ball…muscles flexing under his T-shirt…biceps bulging the sleeves…I’m hot and twitchy.

  Not to mention his sense of humor. I love a guy who can make me laugh.

  “What would you like to drink?” he asks in the bar. We have a table, but we have to order at the bar.

  “I’ll have a beer. Whatever you’re having as long as it’s not IPA.”

  He grins. “Okay. And any preference for the pizza?”

  “Anything except shrimp.”

  He gives me a thumbs-up and heads to the long antique bar.

  I settle onto the high stool and look around, taking in the ambience in the dimly lit bar overlooking the bowling lanes. This place is so cool, a bowling throwback. Amber lights illuminate all the bottles behind the bar and antique bowling balls sit on display.

  Harrison returns with our beers and a numbered card. “They’ll bring our pizza,” he says, setting one glass in front of me.

  I take a sip of my beer. “Ah. That’s good.”

  “So. How old were you when you started bowling? Two?”

  I grin. “A little older than that.”

  He shakes his head. “Good thing I didn’t plan this date to impress you.”

  I lean forward. “You know what? You did impress me.”

  He tips his head. “How so?”

  “You’re a good sport. I love to bowl and I’m having fun and you’re not mad that you lost.” I meet his eyes. “That impresses me.”

  Our gazes hold. The air thickens around us and that little ache deep down inside me intensifies. I squeeze my thighs together.

  “I’m having fun too,” he says softly, also leaning forward.

  I study his face—his thick, straight eyebrows, his square chin dusted with stubble, his imperfect nose. Arousal slides through me, slow, liquid heat, pooling low inside me. “Good.” I drop my gaze a little shyly. “So, um, how was your road trip?”

  “Long. Only two games, but we had two days between. Went shopping for cowboy boots.”

  My eyebrows lift. “
Really? Did you buy some?”

  “No.” He grins. “But apparently you’re supposed to do that in Calgary. We went to a club one night, but I wasn’t into it. I was kinda distracted.”

  “Oh.” I bite my lower lip. “Thinking about your dad?”

  “Er, yeah.”

  “Any more news?”

  “No.” He holds his beer with two hands and looks down at it. “I’m going over to see them tomorrow.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yeah. I need to check in with Everly and my brothers. Everly’s in charge of all this.” One corner of his mouth lifts. “I’m not sure what happens next. Mom and Dad are supposed to meet with Mark and Matthew—my half brothers.” He grimaces. “I don’t know how that’s going to go.”

  I’ve been thinking about this too. It’s not even my family, but I hurt for Harrison that his dad has this terrible disease. After the night we walked on the beach, I could tell how it’s affecting him. It must be so hard. On top of that, there’s this huge rift in the family over money. That really sucks.

  “I’m sure everyone will want to work things out now,” I say, reaching across to lay one hand on top of his. “Like you said, this could help bring everyone together.”

  “Thanks. Let’s not talk about depressing shit. How was your week?”

  I smile. “It was fine. I missed teaching hockey-player yoga, though.” I’ve gotten used to doing that two or three times a week, but this week with their travel schedule there was only one class. “But I’ll see you guys Monday morning.”

  “Confession? I did yoga in my hotel room while I was away.”

  I straighten. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Like I said, I was distracted by a bunch of stuff, so I did it to try to focus and relax.”

  “Well.” I blink. I’m not sure if I believe him or not. “That’s great.”

  Why don’t I believe him? He seems sincere. He seems like an honest guy. I hate being like this!

  I pull in a slow breath through my nose, then tell him about the work we’re doing at Prana to collect items for a women’s shelter. “They always need toiletries, baby food…lots of things. So I set up a place in the studio where everyone can contribute things. I’m taking over our first donation on Monday.”

  “That’s awesome. Where did you get that idea?”

  “Ummm. I think I saw something online about them needing things.”

  “If you need any help, I’m free Monday afternoon.”

  I consider that. I was going to ask Taj if I could borrow his car, but if Harrison could drive me, I wouldn’t have to bother Taj. “Okay,” I say slowly. “That would be great, actually.”

  His face brightens. I think he thought I was going to say no. “Okay! Good.”

  Our pizza arrives, and we dig into the pie topped with pepperoni, bacon, mushrooms, and green peppers.

  “Oh, this is good!” I capture a string of mozzarella dangling from my piece with one finger. “Spicy!”

  He watches me slip my finger into my mouth to pull off the mozzarella, his eyes darkening. My belly flutters.

  I take another bite of my pizza, trying to control my attraction to him, and we both eat for a moment. Then I ask, “Would you rather be the best player on a terrible team, or the worst player on a great team?”

  One of his eyebrows shoots up. “Where did that come from?”

  “Just making conversation.”

  He nods. “Well…seeing as I like to win, I guess I’d rather be the worst player on a great team. As long as by worst, you mean no talent. Not worst because I’m lazy.” He appears to wince slightly. “Because you can overcome being lazy. But if you have no talent and you work as hard as you can, that’s all you can ask.”

  I feel like a might have hit a nerve there. Interesting.

  “How about you?” he asks.

  “I can’t argue with what you just said. But maybe if you’re the best player on a terrible team, there’s a chance you could influence them to be better…lead by example?”

  “True.”

  “If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

  “Aaaah. I can’t answer that! I love food.”

  “Me too. But I’d say pizza.” I nod at the pan on our table. “Because there’s so much variety, it would be hard to get tired of it.”

  “Good point. I’m also partial to broccoli. Can’t get enough of the stuff.”

  “Really?” My chin jerks down.

  “No.” He grins. “I eat it because I have to.”

  “It’s really good roasted. Pretty much any vegetable is good roasted. Roasted cauliflower is like vegetable candy.”

  “I don’t know if I’d go that far, but yeah, roasted veggies are good. Even better battered and fried.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, I’d eat pretty much anything deep-fried.”

  “I ate deep-fried beer once.”

  “No!”

  “Yeah.”

  “How do they do that?”

  “It’s in a dough. Like a pretzel. Really weird. Can’t say I’m a big fan, although I do like beer.”

  “Hey. What about deep-fried pizza? That would be good!”

  “Oh hell yeah. We should try that.”

  “We’d need a deep-fryer. I don’t have one.”

  “Me either. But I could buy one. We could deep-fry all kinds of things.”

  “For about a year, until we have massive heart attacks.”

  He laughs. “Yeah.”

  We talk easily until the pizza is gone and our beers are finished. It’s nearly midnight. I’m having so much fun.

  “Where to now?” Harrison asks.

  I hate to say home, and as usual, I don’t want to give him my address.

  Yet.

  Gah. What am I thinking?

  I don’t want the evening to end, though. “How about we go back to the Golden Fish where you picked me up? We could have a drink and you can meet Taj. He said he’d drive me home from there.”

  He nods slowly. “Sure.”

  Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, about Taj driving me home. I’ve kind of killed the fun mood.

  We enter the Golden Fish and find Taj seated at one end of the bar laughing with Ziggy, who’s standing on the other side. The place is packed, even the patio, a song by The Killers playing from speakers mingling with chattering voices and clinking glasses.

  Taj spots me and lifts a hand. “Hey, beautiful.”

  I lead Harrison toward him. “Hi, guys. How’s it going?”

  “Good, good.” Taj’s gaze lands on Harrison.

  I make the introductions, Taj and Ziggy both giving Harrison appraising looks.

  Harrison shakes their hands with a firm grip and an unfazed smile. “Hey, good to meet you.”

  “What can I get you to drink?” Ziggy asks.

  “I guess I could have one more beer,” Harrison says, looking over at the chalkboard listing beers on tap. “How about a Shock Top.”

  “You bet. Arya?”

  “Can you make me one of your hibiscus tea cocktails?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Ziggy sets about getting our drinks.

  “Hibiscus tea?” Harrison arches a brow.

  I smile. “It’s delicious.” I turn to Taj. “We went bowling!” I hang my purse on the hook under the bar and hop onto a stool. “It was so fun!”

  Taj barks out a laugh. “How the hell did you know she loves bowling?” he asks Harrison.

  Harrison shrugs, taking the stool on the other side of me. “I had no idea. Lucky coincidence. Good thing my ego can stand being hammered, though. She’s totally a can of whoopass.”

  Taj laughs again. “That she is.” His smile is warm and affectionate.

  Harrison takes note
of this.

  “What’d she do?” Ziggy calls.

  “Kicked his butt at bowling,” Taj calls.

  Ziggy grins.

  “I didn’t really bowl very well,” I say. “It’s been a while.”

  “Christ, I’d hate to play against you on a good day, then,” Harrison says.

  “But you’d be happy to play on my team.” I smile at him.

  Our eyes meet. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I would.”

  We study each other, the air about to ignite around us. I want to touch him…see if his hair is as thick and silky as it looks, feel his beard stubble on my cheek, stroke a finger over his lips…heat builds between us, and when his gaze lands on my mouth, electricity jolts through me.

  Taj clears his throat. “Glad you had a good time.”

  Right, right. “We did.”

  Harrison sets a hand on the back of my stool, leaning forward so he can see and talk to Taj, which brings him right up close to me. I breathe in the scent of his cologne. God, I love the scent of men’s cologne. Well, not all; Harrison’s is light, yet warm and sexy. I’d like to bury my nose in the side of his neck and inhale him. Like, forever.

  Ziggy serves our drinks and the four of us chat. Ziggy has to disappear into the kitchen to deal with something, but he comes back in a while. Harrison charms them with self-deprecating bowling stories, then answering their questions about hockey.

  I can literally see Taj and Ziggy falling under his spell.

  I don’t know if this is good or bad. Taj has solid judgment about people, so I guess…it’s good? I want him to like Harrison.

  An hour flies by and it’s last call. Harrison looks at me. “Guess I should get going.” He shifts his gaze to Taj and gives him a penetrating stare. “You’re going to see Arya safely home?”

  “Of course.”

  “Walk me out?” he says to me, standing.

  I slide off the stool and follow him outside onto the sidewalk. The crisp, damp ocean breeze tugs my hair, and I shake it back out of my face. We move a few steps away from the entrance.

  “Thanks for coming tonight,” Harrison says in a low voice, stepping closer.