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“Okay. You can open your eyes.”
The first thing I see is Daniel, nervously scrubbing a hand over his gorgeous square, smooth jaw. The next, I see candles. Everywhere. They’re glittering in jars, in little holders, just winking on their own. Tealights, pillars, jars… they’ve been placed all over the greenhouse and since it’s quite dark in here, it looks like a magical cacti wonderland.
“They’re not actually real,” Daniel explains. “I would never take the chance of lighting this place on fire. They’re all just fake, but they still look good.”
I almost miss the blanket spread out on the far end and the picnic basked, two bottles of sparkling water, and an ancient looking record player- I guess it would be more like a phonograph or whatever those things are called- on the far end. I do a double take, and oh my sweet, saintly cacti, it really is a picnic. A night picnic. With candles that aren’t candles.
“I think this is the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen,” I whisper, my voice thick and syrupy and warm like honey. My body feels like honey. All warm and golden and mushy.
Daniel’s lips quirk and all I can do is look at him. Suddenly there are three of him because my eyes are getting blurry with all the tears that are swimming there. My vision is all wrong, but that’s okay. I turn and throw my arms around Daniel’s neck, tugging him close, falling into him, craving his skin, his lips, his mouth, his body, his passion. I’ve missed all of that- the physical, holding and being held, feeling safe and right and good when we’re together, but I know what I’ve missed most. Daniel’s goodness. His humor, his mind, his loyal, lovely, beautiful heart.
Daniel grins a big, lazy grin at me. “I’m glad you like it. I thought it might be a little too token and uninspired for us.”
“No,” I breathe, just breath away from his lips. “No. It’s just right. Token doesn’t have to be boring, but even if it is, it’s not always a bad thing. Not in this case. Night time picnics with candles and music and red roses before that… I don’t think it gets better.”
“So you’re not disappointed that this isn’t wild and surprising?”
“No.” I stare up at his dark eyes, losing myself into their hypnotic quality like that night we first met. “No, I love it. Thank you for this. Thank you for being here. I- I remember that night at the ball, I called you a- a… What was it again?”
Daniel hasn’t stopped grinning, but his smile grows even wider now. “I believe it was an incorrigible, corrupt, dirty butthole.”
“Yes. Yes, that’s right. And you said that lucky for me, you were just a butthole.” I reach up and wrap my arms around his thick neck, his skin warm and slightly damp from the humidity at his hairline. I fill my lungs on a big inhale with his manly, fresh trees after a rain scent. That’s it. It’s not just trees. He smells like a forest right after the rain. Not during the rain. It’s not that scent. It’s after. So fresh and clean and unique. “You’re not a butthole,” I whisper near his ear. He angles his head, giving me the shell of it to speak to. “If we’re talking token here, I’m going to be really cliched and say that you have a heart of gold. Not of dung.”
Daniel’s hands lock around my waist, his fingers splayed lightly over my dress, his touch burning through fabric into my skin. “Not of dung. That’s incredible romantic.” He dips his head so this time, he’s talking to the shell of my ear and every word sends tingles of longing ripping through me. “I remember thinking that if you left and I didn’t get a chance to know you, it wouldn’t just be the worst mistake ever, it would be unbearable. I felt a little bit crazy. Like a plant hybrid gone wrong and instead of turning into a super fast growing cactus, it turns into one that becomes a werecactus during the full moon, growing hair and fangs, and-”
“And roaming the countryside in search of packages to punch?”
Daniel shudders and throws back his head to let out a throaty laugh all at the same time. “I swear that’s not a thing.”
“Oh really?” I cock a brow. “Could have fooled me. I distinctly remember-”
He bends his head and cuts me off with a kiss. Our lips crash together and after he kisses me breathless, he tilts my face so he can graze his teeth and lips down the column of my neck. His tongue tastes me right where my pulse is hammering at the junction of my throat and I make a sound that makes it very clear I’d like to start the picnic, but only if Daniel is dinner. Or maybe me. For him. I could handle that.
