How she ended up on a date with Van Palmer at a glow-in-the-dark mini-putt course was beyond her, but she had no one to blame but herself. After all, it was her who was calling their outing a date. Not to him, of course, and not out loud, but every second she had a moment to herself, her mind screamed that she was on a date—and that she ought to run for the hills and never look back.
It had all began innocently enough. Somehow Van had acquired her number—probably from her mom—and texted her to ask what she was up to that evening. They hadn’t spoken since their Sunday garden party finger sucking incident, and several days later, April had finally gotten over the hovering cloud of embarrassment that refused to dissipate. Then, out of nowhere, he texted her. At the time, she’d been wrapped up in a new book, and when asked what she was doing that night, she gave an honest reply: playing mini-golf—alone.
It had been a favorite pastime of hers when she was a kid, and considering she was still spending most of her time renovating or puttering around her bedroom, she’d wanted to do something to bring up her spirits. Most of her old high school friends worked during the week anyway, and she needed to find something to keep herself entertained that wasn’t a book or a TV show.
Van had asked her when she planned to go, and just like that, it was a date. He’d picked her up on his bike and everything, showing up on the curb outside the apartment building just as she was headed for her car. Unable to resist the call of that beautiful motorcycle, April had hesitantly climbed on, scouring the street for any signs of James spying on them again.
And that was that. Suddenly, she’d gone from loner with plans to do something by herself to awkward other half of a date that was never meant to be. There’d been numerous times to back out. Hell, she could have just turned and gone upstairs as soon as she saw him waiting for her, but she didn’t. April had moved forward, all the while telling herself that she was doing this for her mom’s sake, she ought to be on at least speaking terms with Van once their parents were married, and spending some platonic time together was probably the way to foster that relationship.
Mini-golf was probably the least sexy thing they could have done together anyway, so even if it was a date—guh—there wasn’t exactly a lot of room for much to happen. There’d been a few families at the course when they arrived, and April spent a lot of her time admiring the glow-in-the-dark decorations while pretending not to notice the way Van’s teeth shone under the black-light.
He’d made a joke when they first started about helping her with her swing, but when she landed a hole-in-one on her first try, that shameless tactic went out the window too. April had no need for a guy to stand behind her and position her body just right. She was damn good at mini-golf, and she intended to win on her own.
If only she could quiet her mind and actually focus on the moment, not whether or not tonight was a date, she would have been in the lead by now. As it stood, Van was beating her by three strokes.
“And that was, what, two strokes?” he teased, marking his score down on his sheet with his comically tiny pencil once they completed the hole with two ramps and a fake sandpit. “I think I’m kicking your ass, April.”
“Hey, the course isn’t over yet,” she snapped, picking up her ball from the hole and moving on to the next challenge: a glow-in-the-dark pirate ship, the hole inside the impressive structure. “How did you get so good at mini-golf anyway? You don’t exactly strike me as the kind of guy to enjoy something like this.”
“Oh, I hate golf in every sense of the word. It’s pretentious as fuck,” he said, as he set his ball down, and April frowned, “but I wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to see you. You seemed pretty dead-set on mini-putt.”
She crossed her arms, gripping the ball and putter tightly. “You didn’t have to come with me. I’m sure you can go if you’re having a bad time—”
“Did I say I was having a bad time?” Van squared his shoulders and tapped his ball toward the pirate ship. “I’m having a great time. I’m also winning…”
April rolled her eyes when he winked at her. They played a few more holes, with April closing the gap in their scores by two strokes. She waited in front of a dark, ominous, slightly glowing tunnel, watching as Van hit his ball with just enough force to send it sailing on through. However, as it was about to hit the tunnel, she casually stuck her foot out, causing the ball to bounce off her toes and take off in a whole new direction. Van pointed at her with his too-small golf club, his eyes wide.
“Cheater!”
“I just happened to move my foot,” she insisted, shrugging innocently. “I can’t help it that your ball was there at the same time…”
April let out a shriek-giggle when he took a run at her, and she thought she could lose him in the tunnel. Unfortunately, Van was actually running while she was merely jogging half-assed, and he caught her in no time. His hand wrapped around her arm, Van tugged her back and pushed her against the wall, which was painted with glow-in-the-dark paint to simulate an ocean view. The ceiling of the tunnel was littered in glowing stars, and if someone tried really hard, they could almost call the setting romantic.
But to April this wasn’t romance. With his body so close to hers, their faces inches from one another, the laughter disappeared pretty damn fast, replaced by a hushed need that surprised her. She leaned her head back, watching him, her gaze shifting from his eyes to his lips. His head ducked down a little, and her heart fluttered. Her stomach knotted, squeezing in a way that was almost pleasant, pleasurable even. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she wondered, just briefly, what it would be like to kiss him again. As she recalled, he’d been quite good at it—never too much tongue, always forceful without gnashing teeth together.
She nibbled her lower lip, debating. And while she debated, Van took action. He pinched her chin between his thumb and finger, easing her toward him as his free hand curved around her lower back. He whispered her name—growled it more like, his voice low and husky.
It’d be easy to kiss him, to just close her eyes and savor the moment. They were alone. He smelled divine. His hard body pressed to hers, domineering without dominating her—and it would have been so easy.
But she couldn’t.
Just as he dipped his head down, his lips a mere breath from hers, April turned her head to the side and cleared her throat. He exhaled, his breath hot and full of disappointment, then stepped back. Unable to look at him, April pushed herself off the wall and fixed her hair, then her t-shirt and shorts.
“You can have a do-over on that last shot,” she muttered—though it was difficult to get the words out. “I hit the ball on purpose.”
“Yeah… Okay.”
He followed her out of the tunnel, and this time April stayed off the green felt carpet, letting him get the shot he deserved. Her face burned with her blush, and it stayed that way until they finished all eighteen holes in the vast mini-golf warehouse. After they returned their clubs, April excused herself, making up a lie that she was meeting someone for drinks, and refused his offer to drop her off wherever she needed to be.
She walked back to her mom’s apartment instead, taking an obscure route along the lakeshore so that Van wouldn’t spot her on his drive home. Arms wrapped around herself, she glared into the distance on the brink of tears.
She knew, in her heart of hearts, that she shouldn’t kiss him. She knew that she’d done the right thing in rebuking his offer. After all, he’d probably be able to find someone at his bar to make up for whatever blue balls she left him with—that much was certain. Her response was appropriate.
So why did she feel so terrible?