She came back, a shy grin on her face as he stood, his dick adjusted in a move she didn’t take note of but should’ve because it was hard not to be obvious about it. The lanes were all lit up, the same red neon lighting as the theme that mirrored the exterior, yet this ran the length of the place. Walls. Booths. Tables. The shelves for the bowling balls. All lit up with that red color. There was a snack bar in one section. The other section was filled with pool tables, air hockey, and other arcade games.

Behind the register, which was a combination bar, a girl was reading over something on a piece of paper. Girl, or maybe a woman? She looked young, but there were some age lines under her eyes, as if she’d seen too much in the world. Hell, maybe seen too much in this place. Her face was striking, almost gaunt angles and oval-shaped. Wide-set dark eyes. Her eyebrows looked threaded, like they were braided, which matched her hair. I’d never seen eyebrows like that, but I was actually surprised. I would’ve thought they’d look stupid. They didn’t. They looked artistic, but like I said before, they matched her hair. She had an almost Viking hairstyle, with her hair shaved on the sides with a thick French braid crossing around and over the shaved sides…on both sides. And she had another at the top of her hair, mingling with the rest that was loose. Slicked back, even.

I started toward her and she glanced over.

I faltered, seeing her makeup. Dark, smoky eyes and a matte-color red over her lips, making her look somewhat like a modern-day warrior. It was badass, that’s what it was. And I wasn’t someone who was ever impressed with other chicks.

I lifted my chin in a greeting, my hands sliding into my back pockets. “My brother told me to ask for Hawk or Brock?” Was this Brock?

Her eyes cooled. She turned to face me, a halter strap, black tank top that showed off two round tribal tattoos going around her biceps. “Who’s your brother?”

“Channing Monroe.”

Surprise flared before a more welcoming tone came from her. The chilly effect was gone. “Oh. Sorry about that. I’m Hawk.”

Really? She was Hawk? I expected a guy, but okay. It fit her look.

She held her hand out, and I crossed the last few steps, giving hers a shake.

There I go. More adulting. I’d graduated onto actual handshakes now.

“Bren Monroe.”

“Yeah.” She motioned for me to follow her and moved down the bar. She said as we went, “You met Gramps and Bonnie, right? At the ER?”

I nodded.