“Ready?” I ask.
Declan reaches down and grabs my hand, threading our fingers together. He surprises me when he brings our hands to his mouth and plants a soft kiss on the back of mine.
“Beyond,” he says. “Let’s go.”
∞
Declan wasn’t kidding when he said he had a whole date planned. I’d expected him to take me to one of the restaurants in town, or maybe somewhere closer to Portland, so I was surprised when we parked near the water and walked over to the park instead. I didn’t see it at first, but as we got closer to my favorite old oak tree where I used to sit and read as a teen, I noticed the red and white checkered blanket with a giant picnic basket sitting beside it. And I meangiant– the amount of food and drinks Declan managed to fit inside the thing is astounding.
“I can’t believe you did all of this,” I say, not for the first time. I’m sitting crisscrossed, thankful for the long skirt my friends convinced me (bullied me) to wear, eating a handful of green grapes. Declan packed more food than the two of us could ever eat by ourselves: turkey and ham sandwiches, four different kinds of cheese and at least as many types of crackers, fruit, cheese-stuffed olives, a few types of chips, and an assortment of sparkling waters and sodas.
The basket reminds me of the grandmother’s purse in “Hocus Pocus” – absolutely bottomless, somehow fitting more inside than should be humanly possible.
“It’s really not that much,” Declan says, though the smile threatening to tug one corner of his mouth up tells me that he’s pleased with himself. He pops an olive into his mouth and chews, and I find myself wondering how I could possibly find the motion of his jaw working so attractive. But good lord, I do. I want to reach out and stroke my fingers across the stubbled skin there.
“I used to sit under this tree for hours when I was a teen,” I tell him, needing a distraction from my unruly thoughts. “I’d bring snacks and a big bottle of iced tea, and I’d sit here and read for a full afternoon. When I needed to give my eyes a break, I’d just lean against the tree and watch the boats go by. I love this spot.”
Declan leans back on his hands, watching me carefully. “A happy coincidence that I picked it, then.”
It’s silly, probably, to think this way, but it almost feels a little bit like fate. That this man who knows me so well after such a short time happened to pick one of my favorite spots in town to have our first date. That he somehow knew I’d enjoy sitting out here with him like this, rather than in a crowded restaurant.
It makes me want to learn about him the way he’s been cataloguing little details about me.
“Tell me more about yourself,” I say, reaching over to snatch the plate of extra sharp cheddar sitting in front of Declan. I don’t even use a cracker as a vessel, I just slice off a large chunk and nibble on it.
“What do you want to know?”
Declan watches me eat, his eyes zeroed in on my mouth, and I wonder if he’s thinking about my lips the way I just was about his jaw.
“Everything,” I tell him honestly. “You told me you’re from Portland, but you’ve lived all over. What made you settle down here?”
Declan hesitates, weighing his words. “Sean, mostly,” he says. “The idea of opening a shop anywhere other than Port Myles was a non-starter for him. He and Frankie are both from here, and he was ready to return home and settle down, open his own business. He’s been telling me for years that he wanted me to come work for him when the time came.” Declan shrugs. “I didn’t have a good reason to say no.”
Somehow, I suspect there’s more to it than that. A man who’s spent his entire adult life moving from city to city doesn’t just agree to move to a small town and work for his friend without a good enough incentive. I don’t push him on it, though.
“And you said your mom lives in Portland?”
“She does.”
“Are you two close?”
Declan reaches over and grabs a grapefruit-flavored sparkling water from the basket. I watch as he pops the top open and takes a sip, taking his time before answering my question.
“We’re not close, no,” he finally says. “Closer than we used to be, though.”
I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns the conversation back on me. “Tell me about your shop. How did you gofrom working in your dad’s hardware store to opening a flower shop? And are you happy you did?”
“How’d you know I worked in my dad’s store?”
“You told me at dinner after our opening day,” he reminds me. “Besides, people talk. I had a customer last week who said he used to go to the hardware store just hoping to see you. He’s got a whole stock of tools he doesn’t even know how to use.”
“You’re lying,” I laugh. “Nobody did that.”
“I swear.” Declan holds his hand up as if making an oath. “I asked him if he was only getting a tattoo because you were next door, but he said he has a girlfriend now. Almost kicked his ass out when he hinted that he wouldn’t mind hooking up with you anyway.”
“Gross,” I groan. “Don’t even tell me who it is. I don’t want to know.”
Declan grins and my heart stutters. It really is unfair for a man to be so beautiful.
