Page 45 of The Other Room

Aaron just shrugged and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Whatever. You’re just jealous you can’t grow a beard like this.”

“That is not what’s going on here.” I laughed.

Jo jutted a finger at me. “Don’t you ever, ever grow a beard, Matt. I’ll throw you out on your ass.”

“Deal, Roomster.” I smiled, trying to regain my coerced composure. When she crossed her legs and flipped her long hair over her shoulder, I felt myself sliding back down the time warp to eighth grade. And there was only one thing that could stop my mind from doing things to Jo that I knew she’d smash my head into the bar for thinking.

Bowling shoes.

“Who’s up for bowling?” Clapping my hands, I rubbed them together.

“In!” they cheered in unison.

Desperate to get Jo into a hideous pair of brown and orange bowling shoes to help me simmer down, I grabbed my pint and the pitcher and hurried into the bowling alley. The shoes were stacked along cubbies in the wall; the way our safe, small town did bowling shoe rental. Just help yourself and don’t steal them. The Door County way.

We each grabbed a pair of bowling shoes and picked out our balls from the assortment along the wall. When Jo sat down to put on her shoes, I counted the seconds until she’d be wearing what would most certainly be the kryptonite to my raging hormones. But after she tightened the Velcro and rose, I struggled to suppress my groan.

Damn it!

Even in her hideous bowling shoes, she still looked gorgeous. Her ripped skinny jeans clung to her curves, and when she pulled off her leather jacket, my gaze raked over the breasts filling out her white tank top just right.

Why would I have expected anything less? Hell, Jo would look cute even if she was rocking an orange beard like Aaron’s.

Okay... maybe not that far, but she’d look cute in just about anything else.

“Who’s up first?” Tony asked, sliding into the chair at the scoring table.

“One roll each and whoever gets the most pins goes first.” Jo cracked her knuckles and stretched.

The sight of her body flexing and bending in front of me almost had me hightailing it out the door.

“I’ll start.” Aaron grabbed his ball, lined up and tossed it down the lane. “Eight! Boom!” He shot at us with his fingers, then blew away the invisible smoke from his imaginary guns.

Tony went next, clipping two pins and returning with a scowl.

“I’m up.” Jo pursed her lips, and I could see the competitive fire igniting in her eyes.

Always the tomboy, she’d kicked our asses at most sports since we were kids. Even though she was half our size growing up, she’d still managed to knock us on our asses in football, score the most shots in basketball games, and hit more home runs in baseball than I could even begin to count. Jo was a natural athlete, and when I saw her line up to roll the ball, I waited to hear the sounds of the pins smashing after she inevitably took them all out.

As she eyed up her shot, I watched her wiggle her ass, and I closed my eyes against the assault to my sanity. I heard her ball trucking down the alley and the pins exploding from her hit.

“Hell, yeah! Strike!” she cheered.

When I opened my eyes, hoping the ass shaking was over and it was safe to do so, Aaron was staring at me, those red eyebrows furrowed while he once again appraised me with a contemplative glare.

“Nice job!” I cheered, ignoring Aaron and hoping he didn’t catch on to what had me so undone. If Aaron figured out it wasn’t just our friendship we’d rekindled, and that my old feelings for her were consuming me like wildfire, I’d never get him to shut up about it. And if he got a few shots in him, he’d no doubt go blabbing it to Jo in some ill-conceived drunken attempt to help me.

Desperate to keep that from happening, I vowed not to slip up again. No groaning, no gawking, no dumping a pitcher of beer on my head to cool down the fire she’d started inside of me.

Just friends.

That’s what I needed to remind myself tonight... even if I had to do it with every single breath.

“You’re up.” Jo gave me her signature cocky victory grin, and I pushed off my chair.

After grabbing my ball and lining up, I exhaled a deep breath and tried to focus my attention on the pins at the end of the lane. With determination to knock them down as if they were my feelings for Jo, I strode toward the line, drawing my arm back and preparing to unleash my fury.

But instead of a perfect shot to topple my imaginary feelings, I overstepped the shot line, hit the slippery alley and flew up into the air.