Page 53 of Because of Blake
“Maggie, are you ready to go?”
“Yes, let me grab my purse and keys.” I lean inside to gather my things from the entry table. Once I lock my front door, I step by Joanna. “Thank you for the invite, Joanna. I’ll see you on Saturday.”
“Okay, uh, yeah, sounds good.” Her eyes watch intently as Blake opens the truck door for me. She returns his wave as he crosses the driveway and gets in the driver’s seat.
“Did she invite you to the block party?” Blake asks as he backs out of the driveway.
“Yes. We missed it last year since we weren’t living here yet. Sounds fun.”
Blake nods, grunting quietly.
“It’s not fun?”
He sighs. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess it’s fun. Mostly, it’s people in the neighborhood getting drunk and lighting fireworks. Kids seem to enjoy it. I usually take Oscar somewhere to get him away from the noise. It freaks him out.”
“I didn’t even think about that.”
“Plus, it’s our movie night, or did you forget?”
“You want to keep doing movie night?”
“Of course. I need to learn to love those Hallmark movies, don’t I?” He laughs. “But we can go if you want.”
“I’d love to see some fireworks, but we don’t have to go if it bothers Oscar. Movie or not, I’m happy to be anywhere with you.”
Blake reaches over and takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “So, do you like Greek food?”
My mouth salivates at the mention of it. “Yes, very much.”
“Great.”
We have lunch at a small, family-owned Greek restaurant. It’s delicious and I eat entirely too much. Blake says he likes my healthy appetite as he finishes the food on my plate, which I’m too stuffed to eat.
He holds my hand as we drive home, gently caressing my skin with his thumb. I’m lost for a moment in sheer joy when I realize we’re going the opposite direction of our neighborhood.
“Where are we going?”
“A surprise.” Blake grins.
He pulls into the parking lot of a driving range.
“Golf? Do I look like a golfer to you?” I ask, jokingly.
“To be fair, no one reallylookslike a golfer.”
I’m suddenly very uncomfortable. Not only am I not a golfer, but I’m not good at sports in general, and I’m so full of Greek food, I feel like one of those punching bags for kids that pops up every time it gets knocked down. This isn’t exactly a fun surprise.
As if he can sense my unease, Blake says, “I was thinking more along the lines of that.” He points across the parking lot.
“Minigolf?” The weight on my shoulders lifts. “I can do that, I suppose.”
Blake and I spend the next hour laughing at each other’s horrible aim, stealing kisses when we can, and competing for who can get the most strokes in. I’m winning. Technically, I’m losing, but I’m winning with the rules we set.
On the last hole, as I’m lining up a shot I will most certainly miss, Blake comes up behind me. He cradles me in his arms, hands resting on mine holding my putter, and takes practice swings with me.
“Where was this help on hole number one?” I ask.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” he says, his hot breath running down my neck. “I’m not a golfer, either.” He plants a kiss on my cheek.