“Well, no…but…” She tipped her foot to the side, if only to look away from those hypnotic blue eyes that still had the power to trip her pulse, even after all these years. “I’d like to know you think I look like a grownup.”
“Even with the clown shoes?”
“Especially with these shoes.” She frowned at the clunky leather bowling shoes, half white and half red, with bright white laces and rubber soles. If she was trying to look pretty for Trent, bowling shoes was the last place to start.
Except she wasn’t trying. Exactly. Okay, maybe she was. A little.
Trent put a finger under her chin and tipped her attention toward him. His dark blue eyes were a stormy ocean of questions and messages she couldn’t read. A soft shadow of stubble gave him a rough-and-tumble edge, like some kind of bad boy in a romance novel. Her breath caught in her throat. “You’re the kind of woman who can make those shoes look gorgeous.”
The sentence melted all of Kate’s resolve to stay far, far away from a mistake she’d thought she’d left in the past. “Thank…thank you.”
He held her gaze a second longer, then a grin tipped one side of his mouth. “Now, let’s make it interesting.”
Was he talking about kissing her? Or was she simply hoping he was? “Uh, not sure what you mean by that.”
“I meant with a wager. If I remember right, KitKat, you are a tiny bit competitive.”
Her face heated. She’d completely misinterpreted him. All she wanted to do was back up, put distance between them, and forget she’d gotten wrapped up in Trent MacMillan’s words. Again. “Oh, yeah. A competition. That’ll make the game more fun.”
This was bowling, not a romance. He wasn’t interested in her that way anymore, and she wasn’t interested in him, either. Not one bit.
The real world came crashing into their space when a stray bowling ball rolled past the bench and came to a stop against Kate’s foot. A little girl dashed over and grabbed the bright pink ball. “Sawwy,” she said.
“It’s okay.” Kate smiled at her. “Are you having fun bowling?”
The little girl nodded. She was maybe five or six, and kept standing there, staring at Trent and Kate with the ball clutched against her stomach. Long blond ringlets framed her face and dusted her black and pink T-shirt, decorated with tiaras and princesses. “I’m bowling with my grandma. She says Imma gonna beat her.”
Kate bent down until she was eye to eye with the girl. A few feet away, the girl’s grandma watched them talk, a little cautious, but also amused. “Do you like bowling?”
The little girl nodded. “I gotta use two hands. ‘Cuz I’m little. But Grandma says that isn’t cheating.”
Kate laughed. “Not at all. I use two hands too, because I’m really bad at bowling. But don’t tell him—” she thumbed over shoulder in Trent’s direction, “—because I’m going to try to beat him.”
“Grandma says use the dots.” The little girl nodded in the direction of the black circles painted on the start of the alley. “‘Cuz they help you go the right way.”
“Good tip, thank you.” She stuck out a hand. “I’m Kate. What’s your name?”
“‘Lizabeth.” The little girl spared two fingers for the handshake, then hefted the heavy ball in her arms. “I gotta go. It’s my turn.”
“Nice to meet you, Elizabeth. Good luck with your game.”
“T’ank you!” She spun away and joined her grandmother in the next lane. Kate could hear her telling her grandmother all about the nice lady she’d met. Kate gave them a friendly wave, then slipped behind the small desk and started typing in hers and Trent’s names on the game sheet.
“You’re good with kids. I’m impressed. Every time I have to talk to a kid, like at an event or something, I always end up running out of things to say. Maybe I’m just not parental material.”
Kate glanced up at Trent. “Kids are easy. The key is to not treat them like they’re kids.”
“What do you mean?”
She turned on the stool and faced him. Trent made those silly bowling shoes look good, with his dark jeans and soft T-shirt. Of course, Trent also made paddle boards and scuba gear and anything he wore look good. He’d asked her a question. It took a second for her brain to refocus. “My grandmother and I volunteer at a co-op garden every spring. There are lots of families that come and plant, and we all take turns weeding and tending the seedlings. In the summer and fall, we work together to do the harvest, and then we all share the bounty. When Nana and I realized most kids had no idea how seeding and growing worked, we started a little class just for them. They pay attention if you don’t dumb it down and give them some responsibility.”
Trent sat on the bright orange bench and draped his arm over the plastic seat. Respect and admiration shone in his eyes. “Wow. You surprise me.”
“Because I can garden?” Kate chuckled. “I’ve always liked doing that. Didn’t I tell you how much I loved gardening when we were dating?”
“You did. But I meant about the kids and the community. That’s…really great, Kate.”
The compliments warmed her. In their college days, the roles had been reversed. Trent, the dashing, exciting outdoorsman who’d impressed everyone with his reckless adventures and crazy stories. Now, he was looking at her the way she had once looked at him. It was…nice. Very nice. Even if it did embarrass her a little to be under that laser focus of his gaze. “I’m not creating world peace here. Just teaching some kids how to grow tomatoes.”
“In the end, isn’t it all the same thing?” he pointed out, echoing her words from earlier. “You teach kids to work together in a community garden, where everyone benefits from the hard work, and you teach them to get along. To tend and nurture each other.”
She rolled her eyes. “Who’s the writer now? It’s a garden, Trent. Nothing more.” She jumped to her feet, grabbed a nine-pound ball and balanced it on one palm. Far easier to do that than to take his compliments to heart, because then she’d have to do something with them. In her head, she had Trent firmly slotted into the “Client” category. Listening to his kind and poetic words would nudge him into some other category she was sure would end badly. “Now, what’s our wager?”
He thought a minute. Amusement danced in his eyes, toyed with the edges of his smile. This was the Trent she remembered—spontaneous and clever and tempting—the one who had seemed to disappear in the busy-ness of his business. “If I win, you tell me as much about you as I tell you about me.”