Indelibly Intimate by Regina Cole Page A

began to regret being so accommodating. “A bowling alley?”
    Hammer cut the engine and loosened his seat belt. “Yep. You said anything, and you said fun, so this is it. Unless you’d rather find a sports bar? I think the Yankees are playing tonight…”
    Quinn shook her head so hard the end of her ponytail thwapped her in the nose. “No, no, this is great.”
    She stepped from the car onto the cracked and worn pavement of the parking lot. Following Hammer across empty parking spaces, the white lines that delineated them more than mostly gone, she wondered what the fuck she’d done now. Bowling? Seriously?
    He held the door open for her and she preceded him into the alley. The loud clack of bowling balls crashing into pins competed with bubbly rock coming from a jukebox. The scent of popcorn and fried food hung in the air. Less than half the lanes were occupied.
    Hammer led the way to the counter. Quinn didn’t pay attention while he spoke to the big man there. She was too busy mapping escape routes. How long did a game of bowling normally take?
    “ Sparky . ”
    She started. “What?”
    “I asked you what your shoe size was.”
    A prickle of defensiveness ran across her. She crossed her arms. “Little bit of a personal question, isn’t it?”
    Hammer rolled his eyes. Bending low, he grabbed at Quinn’s ankle. With a squeak, she clutched his shoulders to keep from falling over. He grasped the heel of her sneaker and pulled it off her foot.
    “What the hell are you doing?”
    He stood. Quinn kept a death grip on his arm for balance. No way was she stepping her sock-covered foot on a bowling alley floor. Who the fuck knew what nastiness could be stuck there?
    Pulling up the tongue of the sneaker, Hammer examined the label. “Size eight.”
    The big man behind the counter nodded and yanked a pair of bowling shoes from the shelf behind him.
    Oh. Shoes. She’d been so lost in thought that she hadn’t realized.
    “Sorry,” Quinn said sheepishly.
    Hammer returned her sneaker with a wink. “No harm done.”
    She jammed her foot back into her shoe as money changed hands from Hammer to the counter attendant. After giving her a pair of bowling shoes that appeared to have been worn every day for the last twenty years, probably by at least a hundred people a week— gross —Hammer led her to an empty lane in the corner of the alley.
    “Here. Get us set up while I go order some food.” He set his shoes beside her, yanked her ponytail and with a wink sauntered toward the concession area.
    Quinn glared after him. Who did he think he was? She wasn’t the type of girl you could order around. His casual high-handedness was so not going to fly. Making up her mind, she nodded as she crossed to the control box for the monitor above the lane. She’d fix him.
     
    Hammer didn’t bother hiding his grin as he stood in line at the concession counter. Sparky was in so far over her head she’d have to swim for a month to see the sun again. She honestly expected she could play with him for a weekend and toss him aside like some kind of half-eaten man candy? Not happening. By the end of this weekend, she was going to realize she had picked the wrong guy to act as her sex toy.
    He ordered their food and a couple beers and was back at their lane only a moment later. When he got there, she had her legs crossed and she picked at her fingernails with a bored expression.
    “Got you a burger.” He passed her a basket laden with a greasy sandwich and fries. “And a beer. Blue Moon. You seemed to like them a lot at my house.”
    “Ha, ha.” Her laugh was anything but genuine as she cut a glare at him. “I told you I don’t usually drink that much.”
    “Don’t feel bad, Sparky. You’re pretty damn cute when you’re plastered.” He winked at her again as he took a bite of his burger. “So, who’s up first?”
    Leaning back in the plastic seat, he scanned the blue screen almost directly over Quinn. And nearly spit his burger