Back To The Start Box Set: Five Full-Length Novels by Aly Martinez
I step back and reluctantly let my arms fall away. “Did you mean it?” I ask.
“Mean what?”
“About starting over and pretending none of this ever happened?”
“Yeah. I’d love to forget all about today.”
“Done,” I say before turning and walking away.
She stands stunned by my sudden departure. Looping around a beer cart, I head back in her direction.
“Jesse? What are you doing here? Wow, you look fantastic.”
“Um, just watching the game.” She timidly smiles, deciding to play along.
“I’m glad I ran into you, I could use a friend to watch the game with. I hate coming to these things alone.”
“Really? I happen to have an extra seat in my brother’s corporate box if you’d like to join me?”
“A box! Hell yeah, I’d like to join you. I hear they have free beer,” I say, causing the small smile to spread across her face.
“Well, then why are we still standing here when there is free alcohol to be consumed just around the corner?” she asks as she starts back toward our seats.
Before we get more than a few steps away, I lean over and whisper, “Friends?” in her ear.
“Friends. Thank you,” she whispers back.
I reply with nothing but a wink.
* * *
AFTER LEAVING the game, Jesse and I decided to walk around for a bit. Neither one of us was quite ready to go home. Jesse is incredible. She is nothing like the person I thought she would be. Sure, she was a little timid and shy sometimes, but in other moments, she would put me in my place without a second thought. It’s an extraordinary combination of innocent and sassy. I love a woman who can challenge me, and it wasn’t until today that I started to see that quality in her. She absolutely fascinated me. We talked about everything. She told hilarious stories about her morning spent shooting down Kara’s “whore-riffic” clothing choices, and I told her about my crazy sisters and all my nieces and nephews. We had the perfect afternoon. As the game came to an end, I suggested a walk as an excuse to keep her close for a few minutes longer.
“Can we go in here?” Jesse asks, stopping in front of a random bowling alley.
“You want to go bowling?” I ask, surprised by her choice. I figured we would grab an early dinner at a quiet restaurant, but it seems everything about Jesse is surprising today.
“Yeah, why not?”
“You’re wearing a dress.”
“So?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t think a dress was ideal bowling attire, but if you want to bowl, then I’m game.”
“Do you play?”
“Of course! Care to make a little wager?” I reach out and grab the door but pause before opening it.
“Sure! What do you have in mind? I could stand a little extra spending cash this week,” she answers with a smirk.
“Not this time, little lady.” I make a show of tipping my pretend cowboy hat. “How about we bet one favor, to be decided upon later.”
“What kind of favor?” she asks skeptically.
“Anything. Who knows? This time next week, you could be doing my laundry.”
“Oh, those kind of favors! Okay! I’m in!” She actually squeals in excitement, making me a little fearful of her enthusiasm.
But as she jumps around clapping her hands, I can’t help but laugh too. God ,she’s beautiful! And that thought had nothing to do with the boob that almost popped out of her dress. Before I can stop myself, I place a hand on her lower back to guide her inside and lean over to breathe in her scent.
“Let’s do this, gorgeous.”
We walk into the bowling alley to see it packed for a Sunday evening. Dozens of eyes seem to breeze over me, landing directly on Jesse, sweeping her from head to toe. A few of the men openly stare at her chest as she walks. I swear one of them even has the balls to adjust his pants when we passed by his lane! I have to fight the urge not to rip off whatever pencil dick he was grabbing while drooling over my woman…I mean, a woman half his age. I know right now that this is going to be a short excursion.
I’m not about to sit and watch men ogle Jesse as she bowls in this dress. Because of my stupid “just friends” conversation earlier, I can’t even wrap an arm around her waist, claiming her for everyone to see. One game—then we are out of here. We’ll go to a nice restaurant or maybe find a nice empty bar where we can hang out.
As we reach the counter, I pull out my wallet to pay, but Jesse stops me first.
“I’ll pay for myself. Friends, remember?” She looks up at me with a smile on her face.
“Right. Friends.” I remind myself again. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this. You get to buy the first pitcher.”
“Deal.” She heads off towards the bar, followed by the eyes of every man in the building.
“Wait, what size shoe do you wear?”
“Five and a half.”
“Holy shit. Is that even an adult size?”
“Laugh it up now, big boy,” she says, glancing around at the crowd and then tugging her dress down an inch.
I can’t help but mumble, “That’s what she said,” under my breath as I watch her tight little ass head towards the bar.
I pick out a ball with great attention to detail. I have big plans for this bet with Jesse. I haven’t bowled in several years, so I’m going to need all the help I can get tonight. I find the perfect twelve-pound ball and move to lane three. While she is still stuck at the bar, I assign our names, Tiny and Hulk. It seems fitting. When she sees our new nicknames on the monitors, she laughs. It makes it worth every penny of the twenty bucks I tipped the lane attendant to get us set up. It has been years since I last played. I didn’t want to still be stumbling with the video scoreboard when she came back.
“This must be a fancy bowling alley. They have a ton of beer on tap. Here, take this. I need to grab some balls.”
I groan at the endless number of jokes I could make from that last statement.
“Are you all right?” she asks for the third time today.
I bite my lip and nod, enjoying the view of her walking away again.
I sit down and try to squeeze my feet into the rented shoes. No one ever carries a men’s size fifteen, so I have to squeeze into a fourteen. I’ll have a million blisters tomorrow. I stand up, looking down at Jesse’s shoes lined up with mine, and shake my head at the enormous size difference. It’s ridiculous. When she walks up carrying twelve- and fourteen-pound balls, all that ridiculousness is forgotten.
“Oh my God, those balls are huge!”
“Thanks. I’m quite fond of them.” She winks in my direction.
“No, I mean, seriously. They’re huge! You do know you have to repeatedly throw them down the lane?”
“Golly gee, Brett. Is that how bowling works?” She feigns ignorance.
“Yeah, smartass. It is! Are you sure you don’t want me to ask for one of the special kiddie balls?”
“All right, keep it up! When you’re washing my car with a toothbrush tomorrow, I hope you remember this moment.”
“What moment?” I ask as she bends over, picking up a ball that is nearly half her size.
“This one.” She turns and throws it down the lane with a skilled ease.
I watch, my mouth gaping open, as I see Jesse’s ball spin to the left, teetering on the edge of the gutter before veering back to the right and slamming into the center. Pins go flying on impact and not a single one is left standing. I close my eyes, shaking my head in utter disbelief that this woman has managed to hustle me yet again.
Luckily, I open them just in time to catch Jesse doing the world’s worst 1980’s robot dance in celebration. Okay, so maybe losing to Jesse won’t be so bad after all.
Chapter Eleven
Brett
“HOW DID I get so drunk?” Jesse slurs as we finish up the fifth and final game of bowling.
Despite my earlier plans to leave as quickly as possible, we’ve been here for hours
For the first two games, I picked a random gawking man and stared him down while Jesse took her turn. The more beer I drank, the more aggressive my glare became. Eventually, I’m sure they all got the idea. They also probably thought I was insane, but the obvious drooling stopped.
“Well, it could have been the pitcher of beer that you drank by yourself during game four,” I answer, watching her flop down onto one of the hard plastic chairs.
“I did not! You drank some too.”
“Yes. I drank two sips. Then you stole my beer and chugged it after getting your billionth strike of the day. Are you going to tell me where you learned to play like that?”
“No, it’s embarrassing. I’m pretty sure I’m maxed out on humiliation for the year after today.”
“Oh, come on. It can’t be that bad,” I sweetly plead.
“Yes, it can. Don’t you try it! Even with those sad puppy-dog eyes, I’m still not telling you where I learned my crazy bowling skills.” She laughs, throwing a balled-up napkin at me.
“Shall we make a little bet?” I ask, twirling my thumbs like an evil madman.
“Aren’t you sick of losing yet?” She laughs so hard at her own joke that she almost rolls out of the chair. Her reaction alone is enough to make me laugh right along with her.
This girl is drunk…and beautiful. And drunk. And sexy as hell. And drunk. And so very fuckable. Did I mention drunk? She isn’t in the danger zone where she is going to be hating her very existence tomorrow. She’s in that loose-lipped, say-things-that-will-make-you-cringe-the-next-day stage. I would be lying if I said I’m not enjoying the hell out of seeing her in this state.
Jesse always seems to have a filter when she talks to me. It’s as if she analyzes every word in her mind twelve times before actually spitting out a sentence. Since she started drinking, she hasn’t stopped talking. She has officially made the leap from best friend’s little sister to woman I want to fuck. Jesus, what the hell am I saying? Am I drunk too?
“So is that a yes or no to the bet?” I smile, glancing down and catch a glimpse of her peaked, chilled nipples. “You cold, Jess?” I ask, nodding down at her nipples noticeably showing thorough her skimpy excuse for a dress.
I watch her eyes travel down her own body and her cheeks immediately redden. Oh shit! I really am drunk! Why the fuck would I say that to her? Better yet, when the hell did I lose my filter tonight? Oh God, what else have I said to her without thinking? I frantically try to think of a way to moonwalk out of this conversation. She’s uncomfortable, and I’m mortified. We both know it too. It’s written all over our faces, but in our drunken states, neither one of us can think of anything to say.
Jesse
OH MY goodness, he just noticed my nipples. Crap. Crap. Crap! What do I even say to that? Brett has been flirting all night. I’ve caught him checking out my backside on more than one occasion. It took me two full games to learn to stop jumping up and down after every strike. I swear, he literally growled one time after I got back-to-back strikes. We agreed to be friends. At least, I thought we had. The eyes that have been watching me all night are not those of a friend. They are the eyes of a man who wants to rip your clothes off and have his dirty way with you. It may be the abundance of alcohol I’ve consumed talking, but I’d probably let Brett Sharp do anything he wanted to me right now.
Thankfully, he assumes my hardened nipples are from a chill, but the truth is, I’m turned on like nobody’s business. For five games, I have watched his biceps flex every time he picks up the ball. I’ve watched his firm butt as he saunters up to the lane. Then, I’ve watched his back muscles ripple through his tight black t-shirt as he hurls the ball towards the pins. It’s been a spectacular show of hotness and completely worth the unchallenging game.
Finally, after staring at his pecks for a few more seconds, I am able to form a coherent thought.
“One frame. Winner gets to ask one question. Loser is required to answer.”
“Deal!” he answers a little too quickly. Especially for a man who has thrown over half his balls in the gutter tonight.
“Ladies first.” He motions for me to start.
I walk forward, blowing on my fingers. I need to sober up. I don’t think he would be willing to wait a few hours for that to happen though. Unfortunately, it seems the alcohol wins out. In my first turn, I overshoot to the left and only knock over two pins. I try to clear my head as I ready myself for my next turn. I look back and see him leaning back with his legs spread open, one hand thrown around the back of the empty seat next to him, the other resting on his muscular thigh. I lose any sense of focus that the beer hadn’t already stolen. Darn his tight jeans! They leave nothing to the imagination. I do mean absolutely nothing. I can very obviously see something in the outline in his pants. I know exactly which side he has tucked his privates tonight. That is more than enough to cause me to throw my next ball directly into the gutter.
Slowly clapping his hands, he rises from his seat and stops a few feet in front of me.
“That wasn’t very good.” He shakes his head and pouts his delicious lips the way a toddler would. It’s a good look for him, and if it weren’t for the fact that he’s making fun of me, I would have enjoyed the heck out of it.
“Shut up. I’m almost certain my two pins can hold up against your gutter balls.”
“Oh, ye of little faith. Watch and learn, Jess. Watch and learn,” he taunts, throwing the only decent ball he has bowled all day.
“Noooooo!” I scream—probably a little too dramatically—as he turns with a smile bigger than I thought humanly possible. I stand stunned as I watch his ball slam into four pins on the right side.
“Well, that was fun.” He winks. “So, pretty lady, tell me where you learned how to bowl?”
“College,” I answer shortly, twirling one of my long brown locks around my finger.
“Oh no! You have to give me more than that. I just destroyed you in that frame. You owe me.”
“Seriously? That was the only frame of the entire day you beat me. And honestly, I’m not sure you should be bragging about four pins. I saw the five-year-old in lane twelve knock down at least six,” I snap at him.
“Oh my God! You’re a sore loser. You have to know how adorable that is.” He steps forward, now standing only inches away from me.
“I’m not adorable.”
“Sweet Jess, you are definitely adorable.” He reaches out and grabs my hips, pulling me into his perfectly muscled body.
“You’re drunk?” I ask.
“I’m a little buzzed.” Leaning down to reach my ear, he whispers, “Tell me where you learned to bowl, gorgeous.”
I have no idea what he’s doing, but it’s messing with my head. A few hours ago, he was preaching to me about being friends, but now he’s holding my body and whispering sexy words into my ear. If my nipples weren’t already hard before, they are now. When I’m finally able to catch my breath, I look up into his twinkling green eyes, searching for some sort of answer. I need to know what’s going on before I do something stupid to embarrass myself again.
“What are you doing, Brett?”
“I’m trying to find out where you learned to bowl,” he repeats as he rakes his teeth over my earlobe, sending a shiver down my entire body. I drop my forehead to his chest and mumble the words I’ve tried to avoid today.
“You’re so hot,” I blurt.
“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you,” he chuckles. Reaching around my hips, he places a hand just above my butt then a gentle kiss on my collarbone.
“What are you doing?” I ask one last time before losing all resolve to question this any longer. I reach around his waist and return his embra
“I have no idea, but I don’t want to stop.”
“You don’t have to.”
We stand holding each other in the middle of a busy bowling alley, oblivious to all the noise surrounding us. Here in his arms, there is nothing but silence. My drunken mind is swirling at this turn of events. I’m not about to stop this though. It feels right. It might be my only chance to enjoy something like this with Brett. Tomorrow, I can blame it on all on the beer. Hey, he can’t think I’m any crazier than he probably already does.
Without another thought, I rise to my tiptoes and place a gentle kiss to his lips. Just as I’m about to pull away, he grabs the back of my head and thrusts his tongue into my mouth. I instantly match his movements. This kiss is even better than I ever imagined. And sad as it may sound, I have imagined kissing Brett Sharp since the first moment I laid eyes on him.
Our tongues dance together in a perfect, smooth rhythm. His hands are in my hair, and mine are wrapped around his waist. I boldly pull him tighter against my body, forcing my chest against his, causing him to groan in appreciation. Suddenly, I snap out of my Brett trance, becoming very aware that we are making out in the middle of a bowling alley. I reluctantly pull away, taking a step back out of his reach and looking down at the ground.
“Babe, don’t do that. I need to see your beautiful eyes,” he says, lifting my chin, forcing me to look back up.
“Sorry.”
“What are you apologizing for?”
“For kissing you. For looking down. For kicking your butt in bowling today. I don’t know. Everything?”
“First of all, stop apologizing. I believe I kissed you just now, and for your information, it was amazing.” I blush at his words. “Secondly, you didn’t kick my butt in bowling today. You wiped the floor with me. Is there anything else you are good at that I should steer clear from? I would really like to avoid this kind of humiliation again.” Reaching out, he places one hand on my face and rubs his thumb back and forth over my pink cheek.
“You’re gorgeous, Jess. I’m not just talking about this sexy dress either. Even in that hideous apron Nell makes you wear, you’re beautiful.” With his words, my cheeks flash bright red. I know because I feel them warm up. It’s confirmed when Brett leans down, kissing where his thumb was just stroking me. “And the fact that you respond like this, babe, I have to warn you, only makes you hotter.”