Cross’ hand came to my hip. “Thank you.” He guided me away and moved behind me.

It was after we chose our balls and were on our lane when Cross sank down next to me. “That Brock guy was scoping us out. Should we be aware of something?”

I paused in the middle of tying my bowling shoes. “Huh?”

Cross nodded at him, his arm brushing against mine. “He’s watching us now.”

I straightened, seeing what he was talking about.

Brock was at the end of the bar, a pile of papers in front of him, but he was staring at us. At my own look, he didn’t turn away. A drink was in front of him, his phone on the counter. He had a faraway expression on his face.

I’d told the guys about my coworkers. Cross knew that Brock was more or less the leader of the entire team. I’d yet to meet Bonbon, thankfully. According to Bonnie, her daughter had decided to move to Florida. No one knew why, but there’d been a lot of cursing that morning, and a few cheers from others. But back to what the guys knew about my co-workers. They knew everything.

Zellman and Jordan joined us, shoes on, and walked to put their balls on the ball holder.

Zellman came back, dropping into the scorekeeper seat. “This is kinda a cool place to work. Their offices are on the other side, I’m assuming?” He glanced over his shoulder, stilling. “And, dude, why’s your boss staring at us?”

Jordan was just sitting on the seats opposite us when he heard Zellman’s question. He went rigid looking, too. “What the fuck?”

Cross stood up, the first to bowl. “Has he asked you about your dad?”

I shook my head. “Not after the first day.”

“What the fuck?” From Jordan again.

“That’s messed up.” Zellman stood up.

All the guys were standing, all staring at Brock with varying expressions. Jordan looked ready to rip his head off. Zellman was frowning. Cross was staring back steadily, calm-like. Noting the other guys’ reactions, Cross was the first to break. He went to bowl, leaving one pin standing.

Zellman groaned, sitting back down. “Are you kidding me? Of course, Cross is an ace bowler.”

He put in the score, waiting as Cross cleared the last pin. Another growl from Zellman.

Jordan eased back his attitude, shooting Zellman a grin and going up. He was next in line. He got seven, and only hit one of the three pins on his next roll. It was my turn after that. I had a weird wrist action, so I got six and picked up three of my last four.

Zellman got a gutter ball in the first try.

Both Cross and Jordan snorted, heads hanging down.

Zellman shook his head. “Not a fucking word, assholes.” He grabbed his ball as soon as it cleared the holder and got five pins on the second attempt. More grumbling as he went back to his seat.

As bowling went, I was guessing we were fairly lame.

We bowled. We sat. We joked.

Contrary to how much Zellman liked bowling, he was horrible at it. Cross and Jordan were tied. I was behind them, but a good distance better than Zellman’s score. He was really, really bad. But after the first few throws, Zellman headed back out to the vehicle. He came in with beverages, handing them to each of us. The initial plan had been that only Jordan would drink. It was his night. We’d watch over him, but spend our time bowling and having fun. Even through the griping, Zellman was having a great time, so Cross said he’d be sober cab and the rest of us could indulge.

So we did. I hadn’t intended to drink, but changed my mind.

After our second game, most people had left. Trundle came over and he started to bowl with us. When Zellman sniffed his drink, Trundle winked at him. “Don’t tell the boss.”

Jordan scowled at him. “You’re not driving, are you? That shit’s not funny.”

His head came up, the wink gone. “Uh, no. I’m not bad, but Brock’ll give me a ride.”

Brock. We were back to him.

We’d forgotten about him.

Jordan was the one who looked. “He’s gone.”

Trundle said, “He’s in the back. He stays while most of the customers are here, in case anything pops off, but you guys are the last ones left, so he headed back in. He does paperwork.”

Cross asked, “Does he work every night?”

“Most, but Gramps covers some of the other nights. Bonbon used to be in charge of the evening shifts, since she’s too nuts for the day stuff and all. She took off, though, so Brock’s been covering for her.”

Zellman grunted. “Guy’s a workaholic.”

“Well, he’s the owner.”

“Wait. What?” From me.

Trundle nodded at me, picking up his ball. We all had one last turn to go, and he stepped toward the lane. “Yeah. He’s the owner.”

“I thought Gramps and Bonnie owned it all?”

He shook his head, coming back after his turn. He hit four, then got the rest of his pins. “Nah. I mean, Hawk said something how they used to be the owners. Brock took over a few years back.”

“Does he have a hard-on for Bren or something?” Jordan was looking behind us.

Brock had come back out, heading for us. He stopped, his hand raised. “Finish up! It’s time to go.”

I stood for my last turn, and yeah, I was buzzed. Nicely buzzed.

I grinned at Cross, who saw my look and instantly started laughing. “Bren’s drunk.”

Zellman and Jordan shared a look.

Zellman thrust a fist in the air. “Yes.” He turned to Trundle. “Bren never drinks.”

“It’s because it’s Halloween and I’m pretending to be a college student.”

Trundle snickered. “I’m off to finish up. It was nice meeting you guys. Don’t be strangers.” He waved, taking off for a back door.

Jordan was frowning at the scoreboard. “Who won?”

Cross went next, got a strike. Second strike. Third strike. “I did.”

Jordan growled. “Not cool, but fitting. You’re the DD.”

Zellman picked up his ball. “I’m hungry.”

Cross was putting his and my ball away. He went up, waiting for us by the tables that we needed to pass for the door. “Is there a place open twenty-four-seven?”

“There’s a diner not far. It’s a college hangout. PubTown.” The answer came from behind the register.

Cross frowned at Brock, but skimmed over the rest.

Zellman and Jordan were trailing behind me.

“You guys want to eat there? Head home?”

“Uh.” Zellman tossed our emptied soda bottles in the garbage, then held up a hand. “Since I’m single, I say hell yes for the diner. There’s gotta be chicks there.” He clamped a hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “Remember, he requested girls for a distraction tonight.”

Jordan’s smile was a little wobbly, just like mine.

It was then I realized Cross had a hold on the back of my jeans. He tugged me back into him, a small smile just for me. I loved when he gave me one of those. A little tingle raced through me, and even though I was either buzzed or drunk, I was still feeling it.

Cross tugged me farther back, his one arm going around my shoulder and curling around to rest over the front of me. I reached up, entwining our hands. He spoke over my head, “Then it’s settled.” He angled us out the door, adding behind me now, “Thank you for letting us stay late.”

“Yeah…Bren!”

Cross swung me around. I blinked a few times, focusing because Brock now had two heads. Both were swimming around his body. “Yes?”

“You can have tomorrow off if you work Saturday.”

I knew what that meant. Saturday was bail-bonds day. It was always one of their busiest nights. “Yes! Can I go in the field?”

He chuckled, closing the register. “Maybe. We’ll see.” He dipped his head down again. “Have a good night.”

I felt Cross lift his arm, but then we were moving back out and headed for Jordan’s truck. I asked as soon as we were inside, “Why do we always drive Jordan’s truck? Why not mine? Or yours?”

Jordan slid open the window between us. “Because my truck is the biggest.”

Zellman added, “And because he’s got a setup back here with sleeping bags, cushions, and blankets. It’s like we’ve got our own couch.”

Jordan snorted. “A couch that’s strapped down.”

“Well, yeah.”

Cross started the engine, putting the gear into reverse. “Your boss watched you almost the whole night.”

Aaaand there went my buzz.

I felt it leaving me with a big ol’ thud.

“What? Really?”

Cross nodded, his face getting all somber. “I swiped Trundle’s keys to the building.” He hit the turn signal, glancing at me before easing onto the street. “I think we should find a time no one will be there, help ourselves inside, and take a look at what they’re keeping you away from.”

My stomach did another dip, but I wasn’t sure if I was excited or nervous. But I did say, “Sounds good to me.” But, “I don’t want to wait.”

“I knew you wouldn’t.”

It was decided.

PubTown turned out to be busy, and Zellman recognized a few people, so he and Jordan were happy. After dropping them off, we headed to the house for a change of clothes, then went back to Coug r Lanes.