Page 34 of Grinch Girl

I’d given it quite a bit of thought. “Bella, Michael, Nicole, and Jim are all good bowlers. Since there’s an element of competition to tonight’s event, let’s put them on lanes one and two, next to each other. One of them will win for sure, so let’smake sure they can see the competition. Keep a camera on each of those couples all night, because they’re still our main stories.”

Pointing to lane three, I said, “Put Diane and Brian there. Diane will enjoy functioning as a color commentator on the rest of the pairings and dates tonight, so if she’s right in the middle, she can see everyone.”

I liked the idea of putting Diane and Brian next to Mabel and Tripp. I could have been imagining it, but there’d beensomethingbetween Mabel and Brian on their last date. If they were in adjacent lanes they could still talk to one another.

“Nate and I will go in lane five,” I said to Sean. Lane five was right next to the bar, so it would be noisy and distracting and full of other people. It wouldn’t be like being on a date at all. We probably wouldn’t even be able to hear one another. Which was just fine by me.

I went into the bathroom and checked my appearance in the mirror. For the camera, of course. I didn’t care what I looked like for Nate. Case in point: tonight I wore a simple fitted black T-shirt and old faded jeans. Nothing special. Not one thing.

Sighing, I pulled a tube of red lipstick out of my pocket and worked on my mouth, giving a nice bright contrast to my curtain of dark hair.

Fine. One thing.

When the tenSingle Bellsparticipants had all gathered and completed their confessionals, Diane explained the competition: “We’ll all bowl three games. Highest combined score for each couple wins that round. Whichever couple wins the most rounds gets bragging rights and a cash prize!” We all cheered dutifully, even though we knew the cash prize was about twenty bucks.

Diane clapped her hands. “To your assigned lanes, everyone, and may the best couple win!”

Bella and Michael strode confidently to lane one, heads together and talking animatedly. Amused, I watched theirconcentration as they tried out different bowling balls. I’d forgotten how competitive they both could be. Should be good TV if Jim and Nicole gave them a run for the money.

Jim and Nicole were already settled in their lane with their balls and a pitcher of beer. Nicole was chewing on her lip uncertainly, glancing between her ex and the camera while Jim sat with his back turned, doggedly setting up their electronic scoreboard.

“I see we’re poised for drama,” a British accent quipped behind me.

My heart gave an annoying and unreasonablebang!in my chest, and I inwardly cringed at myself. So we’d had a little weird moment the night before. It was a mistake between strangers and it meant nothing. It was just…an anomaly driven by hormones, and nothing about that encounter would linger or be repeated. A bowling alley was about the least sexy place I could think of anyway.

I closed my eyes for a bracing moment, then turned to face Nate with a determinedly bland expression. “Hey.”

“J-Bird,” he greeted me with an equally manufactured bland expression—which immediately morphed into something very different as his dark eyes zeroed in on my bright red mouth.

Oh no.

The unstable energy I’d sensed last night before our moment of insanity hadn’t vanished at all. It sparked between us now, much stronger, almost visible to the naked eye, and apparently undeterred by the usual arousal-killing power of clownlike shoes and bowling alley aromas.

Did he feel it too?

I watched as he dragged his gaze up from my mouth, his pupils dilated and shoulders stiff. My lips curved before I could order them not to. Oh yes, he felt it.

I cleared my throat. “Lane five. Let’s go.”

I marched in front of him, grabbed a bowling ball that was way too heavy, just to have something to do. Good God, I couldfeelhim prowling behind me. When I glanced back, he was staring at my butt. I fought the urge to preen, even as I remembered the cameras everywhere. God only knew what they were recording.

We reached our lane, and he went to get us a pitcher of beer as I efficiently set up the electronic scoring. The bar was nowhere near as busy or loud as I’d hoped. Conversation was going to be necessary after all.

Nate returned, filled us both a plastic cup of light beer from the pitcher, and offered one to me. “Cheers.” In silence, we sat, drank from our cups and watched one another. Like me, he was just wearing jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Nothing special.

Except…I knew how his back muscles felt underneath that T-shirt. I’d had my fingernails all over them.

“Did I put scratches on your back?”

“You did,” he confirmed, his voice dropping an octave. “It stung in the shower.”

The stall in his apartment was exactly the same as mine, so my mental image was probably pretty close to reality. I wanted to see his hair wet and pushed back, water droplets in his eyelashes, streams of water dripping down his naked chest—

“Stop,” he growled. “For fuck’s sake, Jane.”

“What?” Dazed, I shook my head and blinked a few times. “Stop what?”

“Looking at me like that,” he said through clenched teeth. Discreetly, he shifted his weight on the chair. “We’re supposed to be bowling, and if you keep looking at me like that, I won’t be able to stand up.”

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