Page 3 of Late to Love

“It’s pretty!” Devon protests.

“Not as pretty as mine,” I say, brandishing the cherry-red ball that’s been my obsession since starting to bowl a year ago.

Amanda sighs. “Fine. But you’re paying the entry fee.”

Agathatsks. “I’ll pay my portion and Stingy Amanda’s over there—but don’t think that this means my game will suddenly improve, because I’m not sure that’s even possible at my age.”

I pull all three of them into a hug, with Amanda protesting loudly. “I love you ladies.”

“Yeah, well, let’s see how much you love us after we get through ten frames,” Devon laughs.

Chapter2

Anthony

THE WATER HEATER isn’t doing its job again.

I have no one to blame but myself.

Jim warned me I needed to replace it when he was up here last week, but I shrugged him off. How much could the manreallytell from a five-second glance at the slightly rusting cylinder that looked like it’d seen better days?

Apparently, a lot.

I add it to my mental list of improvements that need to be made to the space I’m now living in, begrudgingly putting it at the very top after taking a bracingly cold shower. Toweling off, I step out of the makeshift bathroom and make the trek across the wide-open loft to the area I’ve designated as my bedroom. I pull on my usual uniform of jeans and a Hall’s Balls black T-shirt. Some socks, a pair of boots, healthy application of deodorant, and a two-minute teeth-brushing session later, I’m heading downstairs to the main portion of Hall’s Balls and dialing Jim.

“Awful early for a chitchat,” he answers, the knowingI told you sogrin evident in his tone.

“Water heater’s busted,” I grunt in response. Why bother with pleasantries with the town’s hardware store owner?

“You around today?”

“Jim. I’malwaysaround.” There are days when I don’t even step outside, never mind that the building sits just off the boardwalk and I could have my feet on the sand in literal minutes if time allowed.

“We’ll get you fixed.” He hangs up without another word.

Good man. I appreciate the whole interaction, especially the part where he didn’t make me exchange pleasantries. He’s one of the few who seems to understand that a person only has so much to say in a day, and if I wanted to talk, I would.

I check my watch. Time to polish the bowling balls and oil the lanes. There are only four of them, but they require nearly the same amount of attention as the rest of the place combined. Granted, there’s only so much that the arcade area needs, and Harrison helps with nearly every other aspect of the venue.

The man himself appears around an hour later, after I’ve tended to the lanes and restocked the bar.

“What’s up, boss?” He grins and adjusts his ball cap.

“You need a haircut.”

“Says the man with sleeve tattoos,” he quips. “Besides, the ladies like it a little unruly. Gives ‘em something to hang on to.” He gives a devilish smirk as he sidesteps me.

I roll my eyes. Harrison’s been working here almost since the day I opened. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t annoy the absolute shit out of me, though.

It’s well past lunchtime when Darcy Belle saunters in, stopping to talk with Harrison before making her way to where I’m stationed behind the bar.

“Mr. Hall,” she chirps, her cherry-red lips widening into a knowing smile that gets under my skin every time.

“Anthony,” I bite out.

She shrugs, the movement serving only to move her blouse up and down against generous breasts. Breasts that I have exactly no business looking at.

She is a child.

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