She turns toward me. “Like it did when you were growing up.”
It’s easy to talk to her, and she treasures honesty, so that’s what I’ll give her. “If she remembered to buy groceries or leave money for us to get food at the closest gas station, all we’d get was discounted cans of whatever. We’d get sent home with backpacks of food from school, and...” I shudder. “We survived, but you won’t catch me eating a PB and J ever again.”
“No one would blame you.”
“And it’s only fancy white bread for me. Not the cheap, mass-produced stuff.” I bypass my driveway and take the dirt road that’ll lead to a small access road. From there, we’ll do a short stretch of off-roading.
“I’ll have to make you bread now.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Why wouldn’t I? I wouldn’t be a very good baker girlfriend if I didn’t bake my guy fancy bread. My sourdough doesn’t get enough action.”
Does she realize what she said? Girlfriend? Do I dare bring it up?
She looks around. Trees grow thicker and less manicured on one side. Our cattle graze on the other side. “Your property is so beautiful. Where does this lead?”
“A creek. It widens around a bend during the spring, so not as many trees grow there. Lane and I found it when we were out riding one day.” I turn onto the narrow road and we bump along. “Last summer, we put a picnic table there.”
“You use that line on all the ladies?”
I laugh. “The only female I’ve brought out there is my mare.”
“What’s her name?” The tenderness in her question surprises me.
“Catherine.”
“For real? Your mare’s name is Catherine.”
“She’s a serious horse.”
Her laughter brightens my entire afternoon and chases away the lingering memories of when I was growing up. Back then, picnics were just a frivolous thing mentioned in stories, and I was an angry kid who didn’t care because no one else seemed to. Now I’m having a romantic picnic on my property with a local business owner.
She hangs on to theoh-shithandle during the roughest part of the ride. Finally, I park in a clearing not far from the creek.
“Wow.” She peers out the window at the green trees crowding the shoreline. Weeds and wildflowers are intermixed all the way up to the shoreline. The glitter of water peeks through the greenery. “It’s gorgeous.”
Pride puffs out my chest even though I had nothing to do with how nature carved out this little spot. I’m just lucky enough to call myself an owner of it for this moment in time, and I get to share it with a woman who’s becoming really damn special to me.
“You can’t hear the highway out here.” I kill the engine and open the door. Only the faint trickle of water and the breezerustling the trees greet us. “I don’t come out here nearly enough. Go ahead. Explore while I get everything ready.”
“I almost wore sandals. So glad I didn’t. The only nature I’ve gotten lately is weeding my parents’ garden.” She scrambles out of the pickup and picks her way through the tall grasses, passing the table, and continuing along a wildlife trail to the water’s edge.
I catch myself smiling like a dumbass, watching her frolic in nature. Time for a picnic. I pull out the box of food. I might’ve learned to cook, but I’m not trained in presentation. An old sheet is going to have to do for a tablecloth. By the time I’m done covering the table and setting out the food, she’s wandered back. I wouldn’t have rushed her. She needs this, and it’s humbling that I can give it to her.
“This all looks so good.” She presses a hand to her stomach like it’s going to dive for the food. “I’m so stinking hungry, you might have to watch your own plate.”
“Each bite you steal from me is going to cost you a kiss.”
She smiles. “You’re not giving me a reason to behave.”
Good. I don’t want her to, not with me.
Elodie
Damon’s second visit and the reminder that my reputation and, therefore, my business are on the line for thousands of dollars have put a damper on my whole day. Cruz packed the best food. I need his fried chicken recipe like I need to draw my next breath. I’ve eaten more veggies during this date than the last week. If I wasn’t so outraged at the increased amount Damon informed me I now owe, this would be just perfect.
Cruz sets out my lunch bag, but he digs into his tote bag of goodies. What he withdraws shoves the lurking concern of my blackmailer to the dark corners of my brain.
