He looks down at our interlocked fingers. “Maybe.”

I nod. He raises his gaze up to me and there’s so much hurt there. He’s massive, strong and intimidating. But standing here, he’s bare and vulnerable. I lean forward on tiptoes and kiss him. My darling.

Bowling. We’re bowling. I have a feeling Devin is trying to keep things as casual as possible with these dates. He thinks he can chase me away with dive bars and bowling alleys. Ha. I have three brothers. Jake can burp the alphabet and Jamie thinks pull my finger is the height of comedy. I’ve got this. If he wants to chase me away, he needs to stop kissing me.

“These are sexy as hell,” I deadpan, staring down at my ancient multicolor bowling shoes. “I don’t know how you’re going to be able to keep your hands off me.”

He’s sitting in one of the orange plastic chairs, tying his own sexy bowling shoes. I do a little spin in front of him and end it with a sexy model pose and a wink. He wraps his long fingers around my waist and pulls me to him while he stands. He’s graceful for someone so big. Every motion of that powerful body seems thought out, planned. Choreographed.

“Maybe I don’t,” he mumbles, staring down at me.

“Balls,” I say flatly. His eyes narrow in confusion. “We need balls.” I skip off to find the perfect bowling ball. I settle on a neon lime-green eight-pounder. Devin has a monstrous black thing that weighs as much as I do. He lifts it like it’s a box of Kleenex, the cords in his tattooed forearm flexing. Damn. Bowling isn’t supposed to be a turn on, but when Devin struts down that alley and bends over to toss his ball, the muscles in his back rippling, I get hot and bothered. I squeeze my legs together and think of clipping my toenails and scrubbing my toilet.

Devin knocks down eight pins and picks up the next two on his second try. I’m not going to be winning this game and I couldn’t care less. As long as I get to stare at Devin all night, I’ll throw gutterballs until the end of time. He plops down across from me, spreading his legs wide and resting his arms on the back of the bench seating. He’s got a damn smug look on his face. Okay, Mr. Bennett. Let’s play.

I scoot around the ball dispenser thing and bend low in front of him, wiggling my butt in his face. He takes a deep breath and I peek over my shoulder, happy to see his eyes are locked on my ass. I’m definitely winning this game.