“Do I need to work my way up for you to love me more than a friend?”
“Who’s to say?” He winks at me.
Rowan puts the basket and lantern on the sand and then hands me a hoodie. I can’t help but bring it up to my nose and smell the scent of him. A manly smell but also comforting. I can’t explain it. It makes my knees weak, and that’s all that matters.
“Help me with this.” He opens the blanket, which is much larger than I expected. It could fit at least four people.
I grab the other end and help him place it on the sand. Once that’s done, we settle ourselves onto the blanket and he starts to grab things out of the wicker basket.
“Where did you get the basket from?” I point.
“Aunt Rosey.”
“Okay, that makes sense.” I nod.
He pauses to look at me. “What? You thought this was mine?” He gestures to it with his head.
“For all I know, it was helping you get back to Kansas, Dorothy.”
I make him laugh, his dimples showing off. My mind pushes me to kiss them before they disappear, and so I do. I catch him off guard completely.
He stops what he’s doing and looks at me with a shy smile. “What was that for?”
I shrug. “I really wanted to kiss your dimples.”
“My dimples? You’ve kissed them plenty of times before.”
“And each time, it gets better and better. They’re just so dang cute.” I squeeze his face with one hand and let go.
He looks down, trying to contain his small smile that wants to grow into a grin, then looks at me again. “Well, thank you.”
Rowan finishes taking everything out of the basket, and my eyes roam at what we have in front of us. A small charcuterie board with bread, burrata, sharp cheddar, and meats. On another small platter are chocolate-covered strawberries. He wasn’t lying about those.
I gasp when I see the sandwich shaped foil that he pulls out last. He passes it to me and then pulls out a tiny container filled with ketchup. Only Rowan wouldn’t judge me for my weirdness at what he’s made for me.
“I can’t believe you made this for me. Do you know how much the girlsandAugust find it weird that I like cold grilled cheese and dip it in ketchup? They say it’s just a regular cheese sandwich at that point. They just don’t get it.” I unwrap the foil and marvel at the perfectly toasted bread. I look back at him with raised brows in question, expecting him to read my mind.
“Yes, I used mayo and not butter. I usedfourslices of white American cheese,” he says.
An evil laugh pours out of me as I wiggle my fingers that pick up the sandwich. I rip a piece off and dip a bit of it in the ketchup. “Mmm.”
“I won’t lie to you, but it took me a very long time to accept the fact that you eat grilled cheese like that. Normally, people will have grilled cheese with tomato soup. Both warm. It’s like you’re doing the complete opposite.”
I bounce my shoulders up and down in enjoyment. This is thebestdate I’ve ever had. I’m a cheap date. What can I say?
“And then you realized that I’m a genius.” I take another bite.
“Good thing you bake,” he mumbles.
“Hey.” I slap his arm. “I heard that.”
He laughs and digs into his own sandwich that he made. A “regular” sandwich. Whatever that means.
“Now you don’t get your gift.” I turn up my nose.
“You have a gift for me? Well, in that case, you are a genius. The best cook in the world. Whoever said cold grilled cheese is gross has no taste buds.”
“That’s what I thought.” I give him a big smile, grab my tote bag with his new board shorts, and hand them to him.
