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Grinning, I tugged at the blindfold covering my eyes. A dirty red bandana that smelled just like him.
“You know I hate surprises,” I said as the truck bumped over a pothole, bouncing me into the air. I considered using the opportunity to “accidentally” remove the blindfold, but decided against it, a little voice in my head saying: let him have his moment.
It was early spring, at dusk. The time of day when the world is washed in an apricot golden glow. We were on a dirt road. The windows were down and I can still remember how fragrant the air was that day. Fresh, floral, earthy. Classic country music—Shepherd’s favorite—played low on the radio. Shepherd’s hand covered mine on the console, two beers sat in the cupholder between us.
After what seemed like an eternity, the truck came to a stop. The engine cut and the sounds of deep forest engulfed me.
“Let’s see…” I said with a flourish and an English accent, “by the sound of the water lapping lazily against the shore in the distance, I can deduct that we have arrived at Blackbird Lake.”
“Nice work Detective Rowan,” Shepherd chuckled. “Now, stay put.”
Detective. I loved the sound of that word attached to that name. I’d recently accepted an entry-level job as beat cop with BCPD and, during a vodka-fueled date, sheepishly admitted to Shepherd that my goal was to work my way up to be a detective. Without hesitation, without doubt or humor, Shepherd fully supported and encouraged this.
You can do it, he’d said, chin lifted, truth in those dark eyes.
That day, we were both on a high as Shepherd had received a seventy-five cent an hour raise as assistant project manager at Pro Windows and Doors, a company he’d been with since he was eighteen. Things were good.
I listened to Shepherd’s grunt-laced curse words as he unloaded something heavy from the back of the truck. Back and forth he walked, unloading, moving things around. Then, he disappeared for a few minutes. I was beginning to worry, when I heard footsteps, then, “Okay, we’re ready, but keep your fold on, Nancy Drew.”
“No,” I whined as he opened the passenger door.
“Uh-uh, no peeking.”
Groaning, I placed my hand in his as he guided me out of the truck.
“Don’t forget to lock it,” I said.
“No one’s out here and besides, if anyone did want to steal something, they’re more than welcome to that piece of junk.”
I laughed.
As Shepherd led me down a footpath, butterflies awakened in my stomach.
“Be careful.” Shepherd squeezed my hand. “It’s muddy here.”
“Baby, I’m in flip flops.”
I almost screamed when Shepherd swooped down and picked me up, cradling me against his chest like a baby. Love blossomed in my chest and my heart started to beat just a little bit faster.
“This is going to be tricky…”
I held on tightly as Shepherd maneuvered around and then into something, almost falling three separate times in the process. By the time he lowered me onto what felt like a picnic table bench I was more than grateful to be out of the air.
“Just a few more minutes.”
After a light splash of water, we began to move. A smile spread across my face when I realized we were in his canoe. It was cute that he thought he could conceal the fact that we were floating through water.
I listened as he pulled in the oars, set them in the bottom of the canoe, then shuffled toward me.
“You ready?” he asked.
“I mean, I think so…”
The blindfold was gently removed from my eyes. The first thing that hit me was the glorious sunset right in front of us. Beams of bright orange and fuchsia shot up from the mountains like spears of light. The colors reflected off the dancing water that surrounded us. The second thing that registered was the picnic—an actual picnic basket—sitting at my feet. The third was the smile on my boyfriend’s face.
He cupped my face in his hands and leaned in. The setting sun washed his tanned skin in a beautiful golden glow. He looked like a copper statue, I remember thinking. A gorgeous copper Greek god.
“This is beautiful,” I exclaimed.
