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But I force that voice to shut up, focusing on getting a vase down and filling it with water for the beautiful flowers. Once I set it on the kitchen table, Bruce clears his throat. “You ready?”
I glance up, realizing that he’s nervous too. Somehow, that revelation puts me at ease, or at least in damn good company with my own nerves.
“You look nice too,” I say, cringing a bit at the weak compliment compared to his when he saw me. But he preens anyway, letting me look my fill.
As if I’d ever reach that point.
He’s got on brown boots without a speck of dirt of them, dark wash jeans slung low on his hips, and a button-up shirt tucked in behind his belt. His hair’s grown out a bit over the last few weeks, dark hair that wants to curl at his neck even without his usual hat, and his beard’s trimmed neatly. He looks like a fancy cowboy tonight. My fancy cowboy.
Once my eyes trace down and back up slowly, he offers an elbow to me, which I take delicately. Bruce leads me to the door, waiting while I lock up, but I can feel his eyes on me the whole time even as he helps me into his truck. I can tell it’s had a fresh wash too.
I appreciate that he pulled out all the stops. It makes this feel more real. Thirty minutes ago, I would’ve said the exact opposite, thinking that casual bordering on lazy would be preferable. But that’s because then I could’ve written the whole thing off as nothing more than a convenient re-visit to the past. But Bruce is putting in effort here. And that means something, especially to me.
As he pulls through town, Bruce gives me a sideways glance. “So, I have two options for you.”
My brows rise as I look at him. It’s dark, but I can see the tension working in his jaw. “Options?”
He nods. “I planned it out either way. I’m not putting that on you. I want you to know that.” I hum in acknowledgement and he continues. “Option one, we go to the resort. They’ve got a nice restaurant where we can eat dinner, and the bar pours a decent drink and has a dance floor. It’s no Hank’s, but it’s all right for something a bit more traditional. Option two, we have a picnic and stargaze and talk. More like old times, I guess.”
“You packed a picnic?” I ask doubtfully.
“Yep, sandwiches, but they’re pretty good ones. Made them myself. Plus, Shayanne’s potato salad—it’s Mom’s recipe—strawberries with chocolate dip, and wine. But no pressure. It’ll all go back in the fridge at home if you’d rather go to a sit-down dinner.” He truly sounds okay with either option.
I was just thinking that the fancier start, with the amount of care Bruce gave, was better than casual. But he’s managed to give me an option with both . . . the picnic. A nod to what we used to do, a return to our roots, so to speak, and an opportunity to actually talk, which terrifies me but is what Michelle advised that I do, mixed in with her jokes about sex. And it sounds like he put a lot of work into the picnic and I don’t want that to go to waste.
I hope this is the right decision. I smile and offer my choice. “Let’s do the picnic.”
Bruce’s smile is huge, so opposite to the grumpy asshole I met weeks ago. I like this version better, even though he’s more of a danger to my heart. “It was the chocolate dip, wasn’t it? I know you can’t pass up sweets.”
He does know that. He knows so much about me, but he’s missing a big piece of the puzzle. I try to prepare myself because I know he’s going to ask me some hard questions tonight, and I need to answer them. He’s shared so much with me—his story, his newly expanded family, and his intentions. Meanwhile, I’ve run every chance I got.
“Bring on the chocolate!” I cheer, because I’m done running. It’s silly, but it does the trick and he laughs. The engine roars a bit as we speed up, leaving city center for the outer edge of town.
I know where he’s going. It was always our place, and that awareness sends tingles through me. It’s where we would escape everything to focus on each other, it’s where we said ‘I love you’ the first time, it’s where we both lost our virginity to each other, and it’s where we said goodbye. It’s definitely symbolic for us to have our first date there again. I just hope it’s a good sign.
We drive through a copse of green trees, the very tips of which are starting to hint at the yellow of fall that’s coming quickly. There’s a climb, and then we pop out into a clearing that overlooks all of Great Falls. It’s blessedly empty, other than us, and that sends a fresh round of tingles through me at the possibilities.
