“And handicap us?”
“Those two are better than I am,” she pointed out.
“And leave me with those two?” he corrected. He nodded slightly at Cindy and Al, who were watching a bowling video on Al’s phone about the importance of a good backswing. “Don’t leave me.”
Killian wandered up, hands still in his pockets, looking a little lost. He paused on the linoleum, not stepping up onto the wooden floor. “Problem?”
“No,” Aileen said at the same time Ernie muttered, “Yes.”
Killian looked as confused as Aileen felt. Having him there was a distraction she couldn’t handle. She wasn’t an awesome bowler to begin with. Adding in his presence, forcing her emotions and hormones to go haywire, and she was screwed.
“I’m just off my game today,” she said in lieu of the truth. “Bad night. Was thinking of calling it early and taking off.”
Al and Cindy looked up from Al’s phone and both protested. Ernie stared her down in mulish silence. Killian raised a brow.
“If you leave, aren’t they down a team member?”
“Fine,” she snapped. “I’ll finish. Just don’t blame me when I bring down the average.” She stormed back to her seat and dropped down in a huff. Yes, she was being childish. Yes, she was being absurd. No, she didn’t care. Anything to keep Killian from noticing her mini freak-out earlier was an improvement, even immature behavior.
Because she knew, just knew, if he found a sore spot, he’d poke at it until he got her to back off and leave him alone. Their time spent burning up the sheets was nothing compared to the freedom he craved from her journalistic questions and probing.
And maybe that was the worst part. Knowing the second he had a free way out, he’d take it without a backward glance. She had no logical reason to be hurt by that. There were no agreements between them, no promises of a future or even referring to whatever they had as a relationship. She’d apparently invented the entire fantasy of him tossing his cares aside and sweeping her up and off her feet with the soft words, “I don’t care if you’re a reporter. We’ll make it work,” whispered in her ear. Yeah. Like that was even possible.
Killian sat down beside her, silent for a moment.
“Whatever is bothering you, you might as well say it.”
He stared to talk, but a server dropped off their order from the snack bar and he clammed up again. Pizza, nachos, and cheese fries all piled onto the one small, round table they’d claimed. Aileen reached over and grabbed a nacho, dripping with cheese and chili sauce. Flicking off the jalapeño into the nearby trash can, she ate the cheesy, chili-covered chip dripping with gusto. Then she glanced at Killian, who was watching her teammates devour the food like vultures on fresh roadkill.
“Do you guys always eat like this?”
“While bowling.” She took another chip, peeled off the jalapeño, and ate. “What? It’s bowling food. Were you expecting salads with crisp greens and a hint of balsamic vinegar dressing?”
He snorted and shook his head, but still looked a bit queasy at the sight of all the junk food. “No, just . . . where the hell do you put it? You’re this big.” He put his thumbs and forefingers together to make a small circle. For some ridiculously feminine reason she refused to analyze, that made her smile.
“Clearly, I burn a lot of calories on my daily jogs.” He grinned at her joke, then reached for a nacho. “It’s got jalapeños, just a warning.”
“Some people like the extra burn.” He bit in with an exaggerated crunch, smiling even as his eyes watered. “These are toxic.”
“Toxically delicious,” she added. Retrieving another nacho, she picked off the jalapeño and held it out to him. “Here, then.”
He shocked her by nipping it out of her fingers, grazing the pads of her thumb and finger as he did. He watched her carefully, and she blinked in surprise.
He opened his mouth, but Ernie—damn him—interrupted.
“We gonna bowl or make cow eyes at each other?” he asked, clearly amused.
She sighed and wiped her fingers on a napkin. “I need to finish this game. Then we can go.”
He glanced around the alley. People were starting to pack up. As their team was one of the worst, it usually took them the longest to finish. “Can anyone join in on those lanes, if they’re free?”
“If they’re free, yeah. It’s closed down from seven to nine for the league, but after that they open back up to the public. Earlier, if some of the league teams take off early. But the place closes at ten.” She stood and went to dry her hand on the vent. “Why? Did you want to bowl?”