Chapter 39
39
BEN
I gave our date a lot of consideration. Wondering if I should reserve a table at a nice restaurant so we can enjoy a meal together, or if I should organize something fun and lighthearted? But when I remembered how much fun Hope had at mini golf, it was an easy decision—indoor archery at The Golden Circle .
I figure it’ll be a relaxed evening without too much pressure, and hopefully we’ll have a few laughs along the way. Then we can grab a couple of pizzas and enjoy a picnic beneath the stars in the back of my truck. You can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy.
As I pull up to a stop in front of the neat gray-and-white trim home, my heart races like I’m about to perform a search and rescue. Blowing out a nervous breath, I run my hand through my hair and climb out of my truck, then lean in to grab the flowers and gift bag from the passenger seat. I didn’t want to be cliché, but I was at a loss as to what to bring, and I wanted to bring something.
Striding up the walkway, I’m unsure what to expect, which sends my mind racing in a hundred different directions—along with contingency plans for each one. There’s no way of knowing if she’s had second thoughts, or if she’s feeling guilty about going on a date with me. I’m hopeful she’s as ready as she says she is, but I’m prepared to cut our time short if that’s what she needs. I certainly don’t want to pressure her; she puts enough pressure on herself.
The door opens suddenly as I breach the top step, and all the air leaves my lungs in a whoosh. My heart beats frantically for a completely different reason as my eyes eat her up. She’s wearing tight, dark denim jeans, tan boots up to her knees, and a simple pink knitted top, but she’s so damn beautiful. When my gaze finally makes it up to her face, her clear, aquamarine gaze is studying me with uncertainty, and my heart sinks.
She’s having second thoughts.
Closing the distance between us, I trace her face carefully, looking for an answer. “You’re so beautiful, Hope,” I whisper on a breath, unable to contain the words and unwilling to let the disappointment of her change of heart stop me from sharing my thoughts with her.
Her shoulders drop as a puff of air leaves her lips. A smile lights her face, and the uncertainty I saw vanishes. “Thank you,” she murmurs, dropping her eyes away from mine.
Realization strikes that she was waiting for my approval, which she absolutely doesn’t need. She could wear a paper bag, and she’d still be the most beautiful woman to me. I lean in and press a kiss to her cheek, soaking in the smooth softness of her skin and her addictive vanilla scent. Moving my mouth closer to her ear, I murmur with a heated breath, “You’re perfect in every way, Cookie.”
A shiver races through her, and my mouth stretches into a smile. Good to know I affect her as much as she affects me. Stepping back a little, I hold out the flowers to her—light pink roses, mixed with baby’s breath, wrapped in white tissue paper. The gray-eyed woman at Blooms and Balloons said they’d be perfect for a first date, and if the smile on Hope’s face is any indication, the florist knew her stuff.
Hope brings them to her nose and dips her head closer to the arrangement, drawing in a deep breath. When she looks back up at me, gratitude fills her gaze. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.” She chuckles softly. “I’m not gonna say you shouldn’t have, because I’m so glad you did. I’ve never been given flowers before.” Her tone relays the disappointment she’s felt at not receiving such a simple gift, and I vow then and there that I’ll make sure she has fresh flowers regularly for the rest of her days. I hold up the gift bag, and her eyes widen. “Now, I’m gonna say you shouldn’t have.”
I shrug as she takes it from the tips of my fingers with a gentle brush. “If I’m honest, this is more for me than for you.”
She chuckles and looks inside the bag at the army-green cable-knit socks. Her eyes narrow in question, and her gaze lifts to mine in question. “I’m not sure how these are more for you than for me, but I love them. Thank you.” She passes the flowers back to me so she can dip her hand inside to pull them out. She rubs them against her cheek with a sigh. “They’re so soft. They’ll be my coziest pair yet.” She pushes up onto her toes and presses a soft kiss to my bristly cheek. “Thanks, Ben. You’ve spoiled me. Be careful, or I’ll expect it all the time.” She giggles. I’ll buy her gifts every day, if it makes her happy.
I twist the watch on my wrist, so I don’t pull her into me. I’m determined not to maul her before our date. All bets are off after, but taking her out and showing her a fun time is my priority tonight. “I thought the green would match Wyatt’s sweatshirt.” It’s my way of letting her know I’m okay with her holding onto him.
Her eyes snap up to mine, and her questions bombard me without her opening her mouth. “Ben?” My name is barely a breath on her trembling lips. She wraps her arms around me and lays her cheek against my chest and I return her embrace.
“I want you to know you don’t have to let him go, Hope,” I whisper against the top of her soft hair. She squeezes me tighter, burying her face against me, melding her body to mine, and I have to remind myself that I want to take her out—that I want her to let go and have some fun. Shuffling my feet, I settle in and return her hug, doing my utmost to keep it innocent.
We arrive at the archery center, and Hope’s head snaps toward me when she realizes where we are. “What’s this?”
I release my seatbelt and hers and raise an eyebrow. “Archery. I thought it might be fun.”
She swivels in her seat and narrows her eyes. “You didn’t pick up on my total lack of coordination when we played mini golf?” She waves her arm out toward the building. “I’m likely to kill someone in there.”
I chuckle and take her hand, kissing the center of her palm. Her shoulders drop, and she seems to relax at my touch. “I won’t let you. I promise it’s completely safe, and it’ll be fun.” I open my door and climb out. “Wait there, I’ll come around.”
I grasp her hand in mine, and we walk inside to check in. We each sign a waiver, then we’re given our equipment. Hope studies our bows. “How come yours is so much bigger than mine?” she asks, looking truly offended.
“The size of the bow depends on the size of the archer,” the attendant explains.
Hope’s mouth forms an O in understanding, but because my mind is permanently in the gutter when I’m around this woman, I instantly imagine pushing my dick into her mouth and watching her eyes water as she swallows me down.
Damn .
I adjust my position and drop my gaze from hers, fearing she’ll be able to read my thoughts. It’s like the second her lips met mine the first time—my mind goes straight to filthy thoughts whenever I’m with her.
I help her strap the leather arm-guard onto her slender arm, and place the quiver around her slim waist and thigh, subtly breathing in the sweet fragrance that always surrounds her.
The attendant leads us over to an area and demonstrates how to aim and shoot the arrow, ensuring he hits the golden bullseye every single time.
I manage to hit the red and blue circles, but I wouldn’t say I was consistent with my technique. Two of Hope’s arrows miss the target entirely, landing in the net behind. She looks at me with raised brows and wide eyes over her shoulder as if to say, I told you so .
We finish our lesson and the attendant leaves us alone to work our way through the archery range on our own. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” Hope waves her arm back toward the net, where we just had our lesson. “I can’t be trusted to hit the target.”
Wrapping my arm around her shoulders with a chuckle, I pull her in tight. “I have faith in you.” I kiss her temple, then let her go. “You wanna go first?”
She shrugs. “Sure.”
She steps up to the line and raises the bow, then pulls back on the string, but her stance is all wrong. “Hold on.” Moving in behind her, I place my hands on her hips and twist them slightly, wishing I could keep touching her indefinitely. “Remember, the side of your body should face the boss and your toes need to be in line with the target.” I nudge her feet. “These need to be shoulder-width apart.”
She adjusts the position of her feet and looks up at me over her shoulder. “Like this?”
My eyes drop to her mouth, the temptation to lean down and kiss her almost too overwhelming for me to control.
When her body connects with my groin, I step back like I’m on fire; there’s no need for her to feel what she does to me. Not here, not now. Maybe later.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah. That should do it.” I push my lips up into a reassuring smile, hoping like hell I can maintain my equilibrium throughout our date.
With her long fingers wrapped around the string, she pulls it back until it’s in line with her cheek. I move back in and reposition her fingers, so there is one above and two below the shaft of the arrow.
“Thanks, Ben.”
I step back, and she focuses on the target, then releases the arrow. It flies, landing wide and hitting the net strung up behind the stand.
“Damn it!” The arch of her eyebrows dips, and she mumbles something under her breath, before drawing another arrow from her quiver and nocking it to the string.
I watch her shoulders rise as she draws in a breath, and then she drops them into a relaxed position.
She adjusts her feet and raises her bow, keeping her shoulders square with the target, like I showed her. Raising the bow into position, she draws back the string and, after a moment, releases it. This time, the arrow flies and hits the boss. Granted, it misses the target, but she’s closer to making the shot within the circle. Her shoulders drop, and disappointment fills the surrounding air.
“Hey, look at that. You almost hit the paper. Next time, you’ll get on the scoreboard.”
She whines. “I doubt it. I’m terrible at this stuff.”
I frown. “Have you done archery before?” She shakes her head. “Then how can you expect to be good at it from the get-go? It takes practice … like most things in life.”
She toes the fake grass beneath her feet. “I guess so.” The action reminds me so much of Evan when we all played mini golf together. Even though she doesn’t come across as competitive, maybe she is a little.
“C’mon. You have one more shot this round. Make it count.” I wink at her and step backward to watch her take the shot. My eyes drop to her denim-clad ass, and I remember how it felt in my hands the other morning. How sexy she was when she took what she needed from me.
Hope jumps up and down, squealing with delight, like a child in a bouncy castle, pulling me from my salacious thoughts. When I gather my bearings, I notice what has her so excited. Her arrow is proudly sticking out of the outermost white circle of the target. “Did you see that? I actually hit the target!”
I bend down and wrap my arms around her hips, easily lifting her from the ground. Her free hand drops to my shoulder, and she looks down at me with a beaming smile and a face filled with pride for her achievement. “I knew you’d do it!”
She leans down and kisses me chastely, but before I have time to react, she pulls away to look at her arrow. “I can’t believe it!”
And I can’t believe she kissed me in her excitement .
I take my turn, hitting the target each time I fire an arrow, but I’m nowhere near to getting a bullseye, and the arrows don’t even land anywhere near each other. I definitely need to improve my technique.
By the last target of the night, Hope’s aim has improved to the point where she hits the rings of the target with all three arrows. Watching her confidence grow—and the excitement in her eyes build whenever she hits the target—has been better than I could have predicted.
Her enjoyment was my number one goal tonight. Seeing her eyes sparkle and her wide smile has made my night—no, my week . Her happiness, her joy, her sparkle … it’s better than breathing. I’m so glad I went with a fun night out instead of sitting in a stuffy restaurant.