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***
The whole thing is silly, so I put it out of my mind until our next outing. It surprised me when he suggested a bowling alley, but I wasn’t going to complain, either. As much as I love the luxury of his lifestyle, there is something refreshing about being someplace casual.
I can’t help but notice how Rowan’s lips move as he eats his hotdog. The flex of his neck muscles when he swallows. His fingers appear to move of their own accord when he’s thinking, stroking the rim of his cup or his fork.
It doesn’t help that he keeps checking me out.
If it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t be so interested in his movements. But if he’s checking me out, then what else is on his mind? The fractional smirk in his eyes is making me crazy, and it grows every time he glances at my cleavage. I’m tempted to call him out on it.
I didn’t think this blouse was too low-cut. But then our server does it, too. She’s more subtle about it than Rowan, though. Just before I confront him, our server motions for me to join her near the bar. I’m not into women, but she seems very interested in getting me over there, so I cave out of curiosity.
After excusing myself, I meet her there where Rowan cannot see me. I smile, uncomfortably. “Yes?”
“You and the guy you’re with, you’re just friends, right?”
Crap. I’m getting hit on.“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not into women—
“Me either.” She delicately points between my boobs.
I look down, and there’s a glob of chili sauce on my brand new white blouse. “Oh, hell.”
The server smiles apologetically. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to say anything in front of him and embarrass you—
“Pretty sure I did that all by myself.”
Handing over a glass, a napkin, and a stain remover pen, she smiles. “Club soda should do it, but if not, the pen. We use them all the time to get things out of our clothes here.”
“You just got yourself a huge tip.”
“I’d settle for his number.”
My face falls. “Thanks,” I say taking the stuff to the bathroom. They work like magic. When I come back to the table, Rowan can hardly contain his laughter. “You know, you can tell me when I have something on my shirt, funny guy.”
“Nope. Can’t do it.”
“Why not?”
“Because if you thought I was staring at your tits, you might get the wrong idea.”
All I have are wrong ideas. I roll my eyes. “The next time there is sauce on my shirt, tell me.”
“Will do.”
Okay, so he teases me like a friend. The friends with benefits thing isn’t even on his radar. Stop checking out his toned, strong forearms.
“Are you ready?”
I blink. “For what?”
“To get slammed.”
“Come again?”
“You’re going down.”
Um…“Rowan, I—
He grins and points to the lanes.
