"First time you’ve been here, though?" I wonder. She nods.
"First time," she agrees, and she smiles at me.
"I’ll have to make it a good one," I tell her, and I see a little shiver rush through her body. Good. That’s how I want her. Responding to me, to this, to the chemistry that is here between us. I can feel it and I know that she can too. I don’t want to let this go...
We talk a little more before we arrive at the bistro, and when we get there, she gasps.
"This place looks perfect," she tells me as we head inside. I grin. I made the right choice.
But when I approach the waitress and let her know my name and that we have a reservation, her face drops, and she shakes her head.
"I’m so sorry, but there’s been a mistake," she blurts out. "Your table isn’t going to be ready for another two hours. I can get you a drink, on the house..."
I feel my stomach drop. This isn’t what I wanted. I had this whole night planned out perfectly, and now it’s going to fall apart right in front of me. I shake my head.
"No, that can’t be right," I reply. "Check again. Right now–"
But before I can get mad, I feel Honey’s hand slip down my arm and our fingers link. I turn to her, surprised at how soothing her touch is to me right now, and she smiles.
"We can find something else to do," she murmurs to me softly, and she tilts her head towards the door. "Come on."
And, before I know what I am doing, I find myself following her. And wondering just what the rest of this night will bring.
Chapter Four
Honey
With the grocery bag in his hand, Hank seems to finally be calming down a little. I know that he must have planned this night especially, but I want him to know that I am happy with him and nothing more than him.
"You sure a picnic is going to be good enough?" he asks me, and I nod.
"It’s perfect," I reply. "I can even get some apple pie from the van."
"I’d love to try one," he replies, and finally, a smile spreads over his face. After we found out that our table at the bistro wasn’t going to come through, I suggested that we get some stuff for a picnic – we grabbed some bread, cheese, jams and spreads, and he promised that he would grab us a couple of bottles of the best cider of the new season. Honestly, it sounds far more perfect to me than sitting down at any uptight restaurant ever could.
It doesn’t take long for us to reach his place again; it’s quiet compared to the last time I was here, when it was bustling with the activity of the festival, people filling almost every inch of the few acres of his property. The band is packed up, and the only sound is the soft rustle of the wind through the orchard, and a few crickets in the distance.
He heads inside to grab the cider and a blanket for us to sit on, and then he insists on taking my hand to help me sit down next to him. He’s such a gentleman – I can see why Lucky seems to think that the two of us don’t have much in common, given that the guys I usually end up with are anything but.
"You know, Lucky told me a little about you," I remark to him as he opens a bottle of cider and hands it to me. I take a sip, letting the sweet, fragrant bubbles fill my mouth before I swallow.
"Oh?” he replies, leaning back on the blanket – I can’t help but notice the way his arms look now that he has taken off his jacket, the strength in them, the muscle.
"Yeah, she said that you’re about the most stable guy in this whole town," I explain. "Got to say, that’s a bit of a novelty for me."
"Is it, now?" he asks as he takes a sip of his own drink. A drop of it lingers on his lower lip, and it takes all the restraint that I have in me not to lean forward and brush it off with my tongue.
"Yeah, I’ve been traveling so much I haven’t really been around a stable person in a while," I admit, with a smile. "Turns out most of the people you meet on the road are running away from something."
"You included?"
"I don’t know," I admit. "Sometimes, I feel like I am. And sometimes – sometimes, I feel like I’m running toward something. I just don’t know what it is yet."
"Any ideas?" he asks. I shrug.
"I’ll let you know when I find it," I reply. Something about the darkness of his eyes, the way the soft, sweet scent of the apples in the trees above us fills my senses, imprints itself onto my memory, and I know that I am not going to be able to forget this moment anytime soon.