Chapter 23
Chuck: I swear, they’re getting deeper into trouble by the minute.
Lou: I half expect the local wildlife to start rooting for them.
Chuck: Messy, and damn, it’s entertaining.
Lou: You know it.
Somehow, even though I was the one who asked him out, Clinton seems to be sweeping me off my feet. I think of his text message about me wooing him and I shake my head. He may be the one doing the wooing.
There are twinkle lights wrapped around the bordering trees and lounge-type beanbags scattered about for comfortable seating.
They really did a wonderful job. The huge blow-up screen is anchored to the ground, and the sunset is slowly fading.
Jazz music plays through the connected speakers, and my eyes drift to all the beanbags.
“You basically live on the course, so I don’t know why I’m surprised you have your own cart,” I say.
Shock is evident in my voice, but so is the playfulness I am definitely feeling.
We may have dated quite a while ago but I’m still getting the chance to know him now on a deeper level.
Or maybe I’m just more open to seeing the man in front of me.
We park the cart near the many others which are lined up on the side, and I show the attendant our event admission.
“When I saw the listing for the condo, I knew it was the exact location I wanted. It’s only a rental though. I’ll need to find something more permanent,” Clint says, filling me in on another piece of his life.
“Oh, so you plan to move again?” It's a question I don’t know if I really want the answer to or not, but I wait for his response nonetheless.
“Just from the condo. I’m not leaving Cypress Lake. This is home again. I haven't decided if I want to stay in the condo or buy elsewhere. And since I’m able to rent it month to month, it makes the most sense for now.” The relief is palpable, knowing he isn’t going anywhere.
“Hi there,” the attendant chirps, catching our attention. “I’m just going to assume a beautiful couple like you is here for the movie on the lawn. Can I have the name for the reservation?”
Stepping up closer to the counter, I reply, “Yes, it’s under Paloma Reyes.”
“Oh yes, I see you right here. You reserved the Birdies and Blanket ticket, right?” Her finger points at the screen facing away from us, and when I nod my head, she continues, “Let me just grab you the basket, and then you two can be on your way.”
The brown picnic basket is filled to the brim with goodies and chilled drinks.
As I’m about to turn, she passes me a fluffy blanket and a heat lamp, which causes my brows to rise.
She sees my confusion and without being asked, answers the question floating around in my mind, “Being near the water and the chilly breeze, better to be warm than suffering with a chill. Also, the basket number matches the numbered seating.”
“Thank you.” She gives us a smile, and we take our leave.
We find our spot quickly; it’s on the lower side of the hill toward the back of the other seating areas.
Our location somehow gives us privacy but also keeps us near the mass of people.
It’s nice, truly. Everyone has space between them, which gives us all a sense of privacy.
Our reserved spot has a huge blanket laid out with cushions stacked in a tower next to a little foldable table.
Clinton sets the basket down on the grass, off to the side of the cushions. I pull the blanket taut, wanting to smooth out the wrinkles so we have the most space possible. No matter how many times I attempt to straighten it out, wrinkles keep appearing.
He grabs the other corner, smirking up at me. “You’re wrinkling it more,” he teases and gives his side a playful tug making my corner fly out of my hands.
I fake a gasp as I shoot back, “I am not!” Snatching up my side, I pull against the blanket, wanting it to pull free of Clint’s hands just as he did mine.
When I step forward, giving the blanket a firm tug, he sidesteps me at the same time, and we collide into one another.
My foot gets trapped in the blanket, and Clint holds his hand out to help but try as he might, he loses his own balance, and we tumble into a heap.
For a split second, neither one of us moves. He is laid out on his back on top of what was the tower of leaning cushions, and I am sprawled halfway across his body. All is quiet until his laughter breaks the silence. “You are really set on the whole sweeping me off my feet thing, aren't you?”
My chuckle follows, and I retort, “Says the man who can’t keep his balance.”
“Oh sure, blame poor defenseless me while I’m the one laid out on the ground,” Clint says, as I attempt to turn myself around and end up on my ass sitting sideways between his open legs as he props himself up on his elbows. “If you wanted an excuse to cuddle, Dove, you could have just asked me.”
My mouth falls open in an attempt at a comeback, but it's lost on me as his hazel eyes crinkle with amusement.
His salt-and-pepper curls are ruffled slightly, and his dimples show through the smirk on his face, so I do the only thing I can think of: I grab one of the pillows and swat him over the head with it.
“Help me fix the blanket, Golf Daddy, before the rest of the moviegoers begin to stare.”
His laugh makes my lips quirk up, but his hands on my waist, as I steady myself to pull the blanket from around my foot, turns me molten.
His warmth presses into my exposed skin, and I bite my lip to hold back my naughty thoughts.
Once I’m situated, Clinton stands and snaps the blanket into the air, letting it flow gently to the ground, and I adjust the corners.
“Grab the cushions, baby. You are already making this the most memorable date of my life.” I watch as he tosses the large cushions down.
Shaking my head, I pull out the goodies from the basket.
There are all types of things in here: toasted sandwiches, chips, pretzels, cups of dips, seasoned olives, chopped up fruit, and ice cold drinks.
“They really went all out on these baskets. I mean, I know I asked for the extras, but I wasn’t really focused on what was inside as long as we had some things to pick from.
” I don’t know if I am trying to stay as far as possible from the divinely handsome man over there, but I’m nervous.
Oh my God. I’m fucking nervous. He must notice because his eyes finally find mine, and he gives me a soft “come here” wave with his hand.
“Why are you so far away, Paloma? Come over here,” he says, and he pats the cushion he has all set up for me with an extra blanket rolled up on my side.
I take a deep breath and move in next to him, allowing a welcome arm to reach around my waist, pulling me deeper into his side.
He smells like lavender and sandalwood with just a hint of fresh-cut grass.
He smells like a cologne you get a whiff of as a man walks past you.
He smells good. It doesn't matter if you are single or taken; it's a fragrance that forces you to turn your head and look. I want to be wrapped in it completely.
“So what are we watching tonight?” he asks, breaking my thoughts. How do I tell him the only thing I will be watching is him? How can I be in so deep already?
“I think they mentioned it was Happy Gilmore, and I thought it could be fun to watch. Have you seen it?” I question him and he shakes his head no. “Well, let’s change that!”
We grab a few snacks and settle into a comfortable silence.
The sun has set, and those around us are either really into the movie or chatting softly amongst themselves.
The sky is shades of dark purple to deep orange, the clouds themselves are white and look pillowy soft.
I shift a bit, gazing over the crowd of beanbags, blankets, and the rolling hills of the course.
I’m grateful for the small amount of privacy we have.
It feels like we’re in a world of our own here in this little corner.
My gaze finally makes it to Clint, which is funny considering I’ve been looking at everything else but him when he’s all I want to look at.
I still don't understand how he can be so forgiving. It’s like he couldn't care less about our past, and I don’t know how to feel about it.
I want him to be angry with me. I think it would be easier that way.
I wouldn't have to fight with how I feel, I could cut my losses and continue to live the way I’ve been living, but now he’s back in my life and wanting more. It scares me more than anything else.