The Undead Pool by Kim Harrison Page A

your choice. But it’s got a charm or two in it, I bet.”
    Looking annoyed, he hefted the pink monstrosity, his expression changing as he probably tapped a line and felt the energy circulating through it. Saying nothing, he came back to our lane and set it beside mine. “I am so going to regret this, aren’t I?”
    I leaned forward, heart pounding. “If you’re lucky. You first.” Feeling sassy, I stood, almost touching his knees as I edged into the scoring chair. The masculine scent of him hit me, mixing with the smell of bar food and the sound of happy people. My heart pounded, and I focused on the scorecard, carefully writing Bonnie and Clyde in the name box in case anyone was watching the overhead screen.
    What am I doing? I asked myself, but Trent had already picked up his pink bowling ball, giving me a sideways smirk before he settled himself before the line, and made a small side step, probably to compensate for a slight curve.
    I exhaled as I watched him study the lane, collecting himself. And then he moved in a motion of grace, the ball making hardly a sound as it touched the varnished boards. Trent walked backward as the ball edged closer to the gutter, then arced back, both of us tilting our heads as it raced to the pins to hit the sweet spot perfectly.
    â€œBoohaa!” I cried out, since that’s what you are supposed to do when someone pulls a gutter ball back from the edge, and Trent smiled. My heart flip-flopped, and I looked away, scratching a nine in the first box. “Ah, nice one,” I said as he waited for his ball to return.
    â€œThanks.” His fingers dangled over the dryer. “But I swear, if you tweak this ball like you do my golf balls, I’ll put fries in your beer.”
    My head snapped up, and his smile widened until he laughed at me. “Leave my game alone,” he said, the rims of his ears going red.
    â€œYou’re going to regret that statement. I promise you that,” I said, and he smirked as he took his gaudy pink ball and set himself up to pick up the spare. Damn it, this was so not smart, but I couldn’t help but watch him. My fingers were trembling as I wrote down his score and stood for my first roll. I enjoyed flirting, and to be honest, it was almost a relief after biting back so many almost-said comments the last month.
    And after all, it was only one date. One night of freedom so we both had something to compare the last three months with and know that they were not dates.
    Just one night. I could do one night.

Five
    H e eats his fries with mustard? I thought, watching Trent put the yellow squeeze bottle down and pull his basket closer as we sat at the bar and finished our dinner. The burgers had been heavenly and the conversation enlightening, even as it had been about nothing in particular.
    Happy, I made a final notation on the scorecard and let the tiny pencil roll away. “Okay, okay, I’ll give you that last one, but only because I’m nice.”
    â€œNice, smice.” Trent dipped a fry and pointed it at me. “I took that pin fair and square. I can do magic while bowling.” He ate his fry and lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “You not knowing the charm doesn’t make it illegal.”
    â€œWell, no, but it was kind of cheesy.”
    â€œCheesy?” He chuckled, looking nothing like himself but having everything I liked about him. I’d had a great time, and I’d been watching the clock with the first hints of regret. It had been unexpected, that feeling of forgetfulness, free for a time of who I was, and who he was, and what was expected of us. I didn’t want it to end. “Where did you learn to bowl?”
    Trent watched his fingers, carefully picking out his next fry. “University. But you can’t use magic at the West Coast lanes. It’s not illegal, but it’s too unpredictable. How about you?”
    I chuckled, glad when the music turned off. We