Chapter 30
Otto
Romance at its Finest
Today, I’m picking up Mia for our romantic date. A few seconds after I knock on the door, Emma greets me. With our class schedules, her work, and my hockey games, this was the earliest we could get together for that romantic dinner.
Emma looks me over from head to toe, “My, aren’t you looking dapper! Mia will be ready in a moment.” She ushers me inside the small foyer, then disappears down the hallway to let my date know I’m here.
I take in the tidy and organized living room. It’s a far cry from the living space that Joey and I have back home. The room has Mia’s fingerprints all over it from the neat stack of books on the end table, to the remote sitting on top of the TV cabinet. I’m a tad jealous because Joey and I are constantly searching for our TV remote.
My date appears a minute later, lugging a beat-up, brown leather bowling ball bag.
“You have your own ball?” I squeak.
“Ball and shoes,” she corrects.
“But you loathe bowling!” I sputter.
She drops the bag with a loud thud! barely missing my foot. She raises on her tiptoes and plants a kiss on my lips. “You assumed I loathe bowling. I never said that,” she whispers after we exchange a couple heated kisses. “Shall we proceed?” she says, sashaying towards the door.
Why do I suddenly feel like I’ve been set up?
Being a gentleman, I grab the bag, then emit a loud Oof! “How heavy is this ball?”
One of her perfectly plucked eyebrows arches. “I believe it’s fifteen pounds,” Mia replies with pride.
What? My ball is only thirteen pounds. I suddenly feel like a wimp.
Changing the subject, I resort to flattery. Maybe she won’t trounce me at the bowling alley if I butter her up. “You look lovely this evening.” Her tight blue jeans, V-neck T-shirt, and bright red lipstick check all my boxes. Wowza!
She giggles. “As do you. I particularly like the—” She waves her hand in a circle, pointing to my shirt. “Whatever you call that.” I turn so she can see my back. She rolls her eyes. “Whatever you call that, Bubba,” she says, correcting her previous statement.
I scoured three thrift shops before I found a genuine bowling jersey—in garish green and orange colors—customized with a name on the back.
The drive to the bowling alley takes us through a rather seedy part of town. I didn’t consider the neighborhood when I planned this outing. I guess if we run into any unsavory characters, I’ll just fight them off with Mia’s bowling ball.
“I haven’t gone bowling in years,” Mia comments on the ride over.
Shaking my head with a mixture of amusement and frustration, I say, “Then why did you turn me down flat when I asked you to go bowling?”
“You want the truth?”
“Yes,” I say.
“My dad dragged me to his bowling league for years when I was growing up. I swore I’d never step foot in an alley again. I hated the cigarette smoke, greasy pizza, and cheap soda.”
“So why the change of heart?”
“A. I felt bad about how I turned you down and B. I want to kick your butt,” she says, a sassy smile lighting her pretty face.
“We’ll see about that,” I say in a much more confident voice than I’m feeling. I kind of stink at bowling.
~*~
I’ve been conned.
“How about another game?” Mia says, wiping her ball down with a towel, just like the pros do. Her PBA-approved black wrist support stands out against her pale skin. Her bowling shoes sport a fancy logo and the guy in the alley next to ours commented on them being an outstanding choice.
She’s beat me three straight games with that Jason Belmonte-like delivery of hers. It gets more pin action than a puck off the boards. No wonder she’s able to throw such a heavy ball because she uses the popular, new two-handed style.
“Nope. I’m wiped out,” I say, chugging the rest of my soda.
She snorts. “Bubba, considering you’re an athlete, your bowling prowess leaves something to be desired.”
“What do you mean? I get strikes!” I think I got three, maybe even four.
She roars with laughter. “Let’s recap.” I close my eyes in mortification as she rattles off my most embarrassing moments.
“You threw four maybe five gutter balls, your finger stuck in one of the holes and you almost went down the alley with your ball, and I especially enjoyed when you got a strike on the adjoining lane.”
Ah, right. That was strike number four.
Pouting, I retort, “I got two legitimate strikes in game three. It just took me awhile to warm up.”
Rubbing my back, Mia says, “Of course, that was it. Shall we bowl one more game to test your theory?”
Slumping on the bench, I untie my shoes. “Nope. A guy’s ego can only take so much thrashing.”
She slides in next to me, pressing her thigh against mine. “How about a kiss to make it better?”
I turn my head, and we lock lips. Mia takes the lead, and I let her. She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me thoroughly. My heart leaps inside my chest, beating like a kettle drum. When we eventually pull back for air, she doesn’t have a lick of red lipstick remaining on her lips. Her cheeks are stained with a pink blush. Go me!
Mia loads her ball and shoes back into her bag. “I’m famished. What about you?”
“Yes, I’m starving. Lucky thing, we’re going to the all-you-can-eat buffet.”
She smacks me with one of her shoes. Guess I deserved that.
~*~
When we arrive at the buffet, I keep my fingers crossed that Joey was able to connect with our favorite waitress to set the stage for what’s coming next. After we’re seated, Beverly saunters over just as planned. The sixty-year-old is as spry as someone half her age.
She plunks down two glasses of ice water onto the table, spilling water over the edge. “Hello Otto! Who’s this lovely lady?”
“Beverly, this is my girlfriend, Mia,” I reply as Mia beams back at me.
“Nice to meet you, Mia. Grab a plate and fill ’er up! You can go back through the line as many times as you like, just make sure you take a new plate each time. Eat until you burst!” she chortles.
“Eat until you burst?” Mia whispers as we head to the buffet line. “Catchy slogan,” she says with a giggle.
“I assure you that Joey and I have done exactly that on several occasions.”
We slowly walk through the line, each of us filling our plate. I’m using the “take some of everything” rule, while Mia is more judicious. My plate is a mound of food piled high while Mia’s is nicely organized by food group. Meat in one section, vegetables in another, with a dinner roll tucked along the edge.
“How can you savor the different tastes when they’re all piled together?” Mia asks.
“Quantity is the goal here, not taste,” I answer between bites.
She chuckles as she carefully cuts her piece of roast beef, then forks it into her mouth. The woman is dainty and polite even at an all-you-can eat place.
When we finish our plates, we’re both too full to go through the line again. Beverly sees our empty plates and trots over with a slice of chocolate pie as big as my hand, just as we planned. “Enjoy!” she says while giving me a wink.
I slide the plate over to Mia. “Ladies first.”
“I’m stuffed, but maybe I’ll take just a small bite.” She jabs her fork into the tip of the slice, just like I knew she’d do. “There’s something in the pie!” she whispers, her eyes widening dramatically. Catching the “something” on the tines of her fork, she stares closely at the big glob of chocolate, rotating the fork around in a circle. A smile spreads across her face as she removes the object, licks it off, and slides it onto her finger. “Is there something you want to ask me?”
I’ve known for a long time that I want Mia in my life permanently, probably the minute I saw her at Levi’s NHL draft party. As we spent time working together on the fundraiser, I fell head over heels for her. We’re a great team, so I envision that extending to our marriage as well. When I found the gorgeous ring, I took it as a sign. So here we are.
I come around the table and get down on one knee. “I love you, Mia Robinson. Will you marry me?”
She smiles and flings her arms around my neck. “Yes! I love you, too!” She squeals, then rotates her hand so the sparkly diamond catches the light. We kiss while the restaurant breaks out in applause.
Minutes later, we walk hand-in-hand out of the restaurant, and I say, “Nothing beats bowling, buffet food, and a marriage proposal.”
“I could just burst with happiness!” Mia teases, as an ode to the buffet’s catchy slogan.
My feet stop, pausing our progress towards the parking lot. Gazing at her beautiful blue eyes, I say, “Seriously, Mia. We can go to Le Chateau Gourmand and do this over again.”
She taps her chin for several seconds, as if thinking long and hard about the answer. “Naw. I’m good.”
“I’m sure Joey will insist I bring Pete, Bambi, and their babies with me when I move out. Shall we adopt a pigeon to round out the pet menagerie?”
Giggling, she replies, “How about we just visit Pete the Pigeon. I think twelve goldfish will be plenty of pets.”
I laugh and we resume walking. “No pressure, but when do you want to get married?” That will be the first question out of my mom’s mouth when we tell her we’re engaged.
Mia grabs my arm and pulls us to a stop. “I know the perfect place! But we’ll have to wait until it’s completed.”
My brows draw together. “Completed?”
She nods eagerly. “Let’s get married at the inclusive park! We can have the ceremony and our reception there. Nora and Madison can attend.”
“We should invite Professor Hollyhocks and Alexis also,” I add.
“Sounds perfect.”
“Better get started on your spreadsheet! There’s a lot to do in only a few months.”
“I’ll get right on that,” she replies, then she seals it with a kiss.
THE END
Wait! Want to read about Joey and Emma’s romance? Watch for Book 3 , Gingerbread and Goalies , coming soon! I can’t wait for you to read their story, plus you’ll get updates about the other couples as well. It’s going to be a bumpy ride for Joey and Emma, and how does the rookie goalie, Blake, play into the mix? You’ll have to read the book in order to find out!