Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“Madeleine, you should join our game,” Lucas says. “I’m sure we can reset the game.”
It’s tempting to take him up on the offer, but I don’t want to leave Judith hanging even more than I already have. I wave away his invitation and promise to meet up with them later.
It’s impossible to concentrate on my own bowling game with theirs taking place so close by. Tori’s high-pitched baby voice seems to carry over to lane six no matter how hard I try to block it out.
“Oh my God, Adam!” she squeals just as I stand to take a turn. “You’re so good!”
I slip my fingers into the holes, wind up, and then dispatch my third gutter ball of the night.
Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.
Bowling is definitely not my thing, but I didn’t think I’d be this bad.
“It’s okay, Madeleine! We can still catch the boys,” Judith says cheerfully. As depressed as I am, I laugh at the notion of calling the geezers across from us “boys”.
I turn to head back to my seat and notice Adam watching me. He’s been doing it for the last thirty minutes, and each time I feel his attention on me, I look up and we do the awkward-eye-contact, look-away-quick thing. This time I don’t give in to the urge to look his way. There’s a chance he still has some semblance of respect for me, but after that third gutter ball, who knows.
I’ve barely reached my seat when loud salsa music starts to filter out of the speakers overhead. One of the coordinators of the singles event grabs the mic and after a sharp screech of microphone feedback announces, “It’s time to switch things up!”
Then, before my eyes, my little group of four is scrambled. One of the coordinators grabs Allen and Mitch and replaces them with two new men, one of whom makes Judith blush like a schoolgirl. The other is actually within my age range, and better yet, I don’t recognize him. He’s wearing worn Wrangler jeans and a white button-down with pearl snaps. He’s a little more cowboy-esque than I usually go for, but after my earlier prospects, he might as well be an oasis in the middle of the desert.
He introduces himself as Dan and doesn’t seem to be much of a talker, but he does bring me a fresh beer from the concession stand, so that’s a win.
“Have you lived in Hamilton long?” I ask, trying to strike up conversation while Judith takes her turn. Dan and I are sitting beside each other and when his thigh brushes mine, I don’t move away.
He swallows his sip of beer and shakes his head. “Nah, just moved here last year. I work over at Longhorn Ranch.”
My interest in piqued. “What do you do over there?”
He shrugs and glances down, like he’s not used to being asked direct questions like that. “Ranch hand, nothing fancy. I tend to the horses and help out where they need me.”
It makes sense. His chin is sporting a couple days’ worth of stubble, and his skin has a healthy glow from being outdoors. I can see it now: him taming wild mustangs with patience and masculinity. I bet he knows how to use a lasso for other, more nefarious reasons too. I’m imagining just that when he reaches forward, grabs an empty cup, and spits black crud into it. Chewing tobacco. I try not to cringe as my dream of riding him off into the sunset is shattered. I have very few deal breakers, but mouth cancer is definitely one of them.
When he’s done, he sets the empty cup back down and turns to me, and then I notice the lump in his mouth where he’s left a bit more of the disgusting substance. It’s not my thing, especially when he leans closer to ask what I do for a living and I catch the scent on his breath. Call me crazy, but I prefer minty fresh to stale tobacco.
“Oh, um, I’m a real estate agent,” I mutter, right before I hop up to take my turn again.
I don’t even bother lining up my feet before letting the ball loose and turning back for my seat. I know the ball is going to end up in the gutter anyway, but then I hear the telltale sound of bowling pins getting knocked down and I whip around. I hit them! Not all—I’m not suddenly an Olympic bowler—but I’ve knocked down four of the pins. FOUR.
Judith is jumping up and down with glee. “You did it! You did it, Madeleine!”
I chance a glance over at Adam to see if he’s witnessed my athletic prowess. He hasn’t, because Tori is regaling him with a story and he seems to have turned his attention solely to her. It takes the wind right out of my sails. Suddenly four pins seem just as bad as zero pins.