Page 62 of Late to Love

“Did you get us presents?” Agatha asks.

“Unless this is his new way of presenting a bill,” Devon jokes, “then yes, Agatha, I’m willing to bet these are gifts.”

Amanda’s dark eyes flash to mine, certain I have an answer, but I’m just as clueless as the rest of them. Shaking my head at her, I take a bag from Anthony. “What’s this?”

But he says nothing, just crosses his arms and nods brusquely at us.

“That’s Anthony-speak for ‘open them,’” I joke. I pull open the bag—no tissue paper to remove, it’s just the bag, but honestly, it’s still impressive considering the man who’s put this together—and pull out a shirt.

I gasp. Not just a shirt—abowlingshirt. Styled in a retro design from the fifties, it boasts thick pink and white stripes, with little red cherries on the front pockets that are actually bowling balls when I look closer. My name is stitched in black beneath the cherry bowling balls, and on the back, in black script, are the wordsHall’s Belles.

My throat constricts, and I blink up in time to catch yet another soft look on his face. He meets my eyes as I mouth, “thank you,” right as the other women begin to squeal and say their thanks.

And the way his mouth tips up just the slightest, his hazel eyes crinkling so minutely that I swear I’m the only one who can tell?Ugh. Be still my beating heart. Because this is the final proof that he cares. Maybe a lot more than he’s ever let on.

“These are amazing,” I croak.

“What’s with the name?” Amanda asks. “Who says we’re Hall’s Belles?”

“Awfully presumptuous of you,” Devon teases.

He grunts. “I’ve heard you referring to yourselves as that, and besides, that’s what you’re signed up to compete as.”

“Why, Anthony Hall, did you actually look us up?” Agatha’s eyes shine bright as she sizes him up.

His cheeks get the barest shade of pink above his beard. It’s so subtle that I’m not sure anyone notices. “Of course.”

The women howl.

“All of you still need to work on your approach,” he says next.

“Let me guess.” I carefully place the shirt back in its bag and inject a snarky tone into my words, if only to keep up a farce I’m not even sure is needed. “You’re going to be our coach?”

He tilts his head and regards me silently, then gestures Harrison back over from where he’d been cleaning up the pool area. He walks to our reserved lane, and we follow. Producing a key, he opens a compartment beneath the benches and pulls out bowling shoes and the same customized ball he used the last time he came over.

“You’re getting better,” he finally says, “but you all still need a lot of work. And now that my name is on your shirts, you need to step it up.”

After we’re all in our bowling shoes, Anthony instructs us to watch as he gets into position, pulling the ball up to his chin like he’s a baseball pitcher and the ball is his mitt.

“He reallydoeshave a nice ass,” Amanda murmurs, a playful smirk on her lips.

Devon snorts as I lean into Amanda and shush her, all of us paying attention to Anthony’s, um,form.

He takes four quick steps, pulling his right arm back with the ball, and then, on his final approach, swings his right leg back as his arm levers forward, releasing the ball perfectly down the center. It lands with a satisfyingthwacka good third of the way into the lane, swooshing down without even seeming to roll, before finally beginning to spin on a collision course with the front pin. One second later, the ball hits the pink in a beautiful nose hit, sending it crashing into the others. It’s a strike.

Everyone cheers while I try not to be as turned on as I am. It’s just bowling, for God’s sake. But…damn, did he look hot.

He pivots to face us. “Ready to learn how to do that?”

Chapter23

Darcy

IT TURNS OUT that Anthony is a freakingbeastat bowling. Surprising everyone, honestly. Why the man never truly bothered to mention it other than the first time he showed off for us is a mystery, but with only one week to go, he took it upon himself to put our team through its paces, making us come to Hall’s Balls every night to practice.

Then, after wringing us out night after night, he’d take me upstairs and we tumbled into bed. It’s been the best week of my life, but also the most intense and most stressful.

Last night, Anthony pulled us all together and gave us what was, I’m sure in his mind, a very inspiring pep talk. But the man is no Ted Lasso, or even Coach Saban. I’m honestly not sure what he said because I blacked out imagining him using the same voice on me as he made me swallow his cock, so when Amanda snorted while simultaneously saying “Thanks, Anthony,” all I could do was nod.

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