CHAPTER SIXTEEN

HOLLY

 

“I really think you’ll like this guy,” Liz said, standing in my doorway with her cup of tea held tightly in both hands. “You always like those dorky types.” 

“Stephen wasn’t dorky!” I laughed. “He’s a real man’s man.”

“Oh, yeah,” she snickered, raising the mug to her lips. “Clearly.”

Liz told me that I was meeting Ben for mini golf. No fancy restaurants to get dressed up for, thank God. It was relaxed and actually sounded like fun, and I found that not only was I looking forward to it, but I was nervous as all hell. It was a legitimate set-up with a guy that my sister’s ex-husband was buddies with and saw on a regular basis. What happened if it didn’t go well and the dynamic between them was forever awkward?

After I had gotten dressed for the date in a pair of leggings and a sweater, I noticed my palms growing clammy. I wiped them against the scarf I was about to wrap around my neck, silently telling myself to chill the fuck out. I left my hair down—a habit I had been easing myself into since getting my hair done—and I swept some mascara and eyeliner on in an attempt to make my face look at least a little more put together.

“Remember what I said about sleeping with handsome men, honey,” Esther called over her fence before I got into the van.

“Oh God,” I mumbled, flipping her my middle finger as I got in.

 

***

 

It wasn’t long before I got to the course; a little sleazy hole in the wall that I immediately assumed crawled with high schoolers on any given weekend. I half expected to see beer bottles and condom wrappers hiding behind one of the several billboards leading up to the place, and my expectations of the date began to suffer. I parked the van close to the gated entrance, in the event that I needed to make a quick run for it. If he seemed at all like he was going to conveniently slip something into my drink, I was going to high-tail it the hell out of there.

It seemed like a sound plan, as I climbed out of Ol’ Rusty, and that’s when a younger looking man approached me. 

“Um … Holly?” he asked with a worried expression on his face, and in his hand, I noticed a picnic basket. He seemed adorably unsure of himself and reminded me of a lost kid who had packed his lunch before he ran away from home, and dammit, I smiled. 

My stomach flipped with excitement as he stepped closer, the friendly twinkle of his eyes dancing in the light of the parking lot.

“You must be Ben.” I extended my hand to him, hoping he didn’t notice how it trembled, and he eagerly accepted.

“Oh, thank God. I have no idea how this blind date stuff works. I didn’t want to come up to the wrong woman and scare the hell out of her, you know?” He was flustered, and God help me, he really was cute. 

Ben was obviously a few years younger, and the slight hint of a goatee on his chin didn’t help to make his baby face look any older. His dirty blonde hair was scruffy in a way that made him look simultaneously messy and put together. He was decently tall without the threat of killing me had a strong wind come along to blow him over, and from the looks of things, he had a pretty nice, slightly above average build. But what really made him stand out were his striking green eyes, and even in the dim lighting of the parking lot, they reminded me of lucid gem stones.

“Do you play mini golf?” he asked, feeling a little less flustered and a lot bolder as he took my hand in his, leading me towards the entrance of the golf course. I noticed that I felt nothing but his warm, slightly clammy hand engulfing mine. No sparks, no fireworks, no nothing that would set him apart from any other guy, but he felt comfortable. I could settle for comfortable.

I shook my head in response with a smile, feeling playful and shy and incredibly intrigued as to where the night was going to take me. At this, his eyes widened, as though it were totally inconceivable for someone to not partake in miniature golf on the regular. I half expected for him to say something about it being the most incredible pastime ever, that I was seriously missing out, and that if I was interested, I could join his league.

If there were, in fact, miniature golf leagues.

Instead, he asked, “Have you ever played?” I responded with a nod and a little smile, and he grinned. “Well, I hope you’re ready to have your ass kicked, because I’m literally here every single weekend.” 

Well, that was certainly something to brag about. 

I suppressed a sarcastic giggle as we approached the counter and a young man with the furriest brows I had ever seen acknowledged Ben by name. 

“Ben! How’s it going, man? What can I get you? The usual?” 

He has a usual. At a mini golf place.

Ben smiled at me, and then turned to smile at Caterpillar Brows. “Well, I’ll have my usual, and maybe a—hmmm, you know what?” He eyed me carefully, clearly calculating something in his head as his pursed lips moved from side to side. “Give me a purple handle. That might be good for Holly here.” 

“Holly, huh?” Caterpillar Brows said, glancing at me before giving Ben a wink that didn’t exactly ooze class. He grabbed two clubs from behind the counter. “No Kaylee today?” 

Kaylee? Who the hell is Kaylee?

I guess I was due to date a man-whore. I had dated a gay man and a world-class asshole, so why not add a player to the list? My stomach sank with disappointment as I shifted uncomfortably in my shoes.  

“Nah, she’s with my mother tonight,” Ben replied, as though the idea of this guy just casually mentioning the name of another woman was a totally normal thing to do while on a date.  

I felt nauseous. What the hell had Mark done to me?

Holly freakin’ Hughes. The other woman.

Ben took the clubs, handing me the one with the purple handle and said, “See how that one feels to you. You might need something a little taller.”

I took the club and positioned myself in my most professional golf stance, which was apparently all wrong. Ben laughed, a little attractive arrogance seeping through, and stood behind me with his hands over mine, moving them into the proper alignment to correctly hold the club. My back and shoulders pressed against his chest, his arms taut against mine. My lips parted, inhaling and exhaling loudly, as he helped me test it out by winding our arms back, moving with me, and taking a faux swing at absolutely nothing.

“How did that feel?” Ben asked, placing a warm hand on my shoulder, rounding to face me with his endearing smile and emerald eyes.

“W-what?” I asked, my cheeks burning from the rush of intimate contact.

He smiled, his own face turning a brighter shade of pink. “The club. Is it okay?”

Embarrassed, I bobbed my head rapidly, confirming his original assessment and hoping the shaking would knock some sense into me. Who gets turned on by mini golf?

Me. That’s who.

Ben confirmed the club selection with a squeeze of my shoulder and a thumbs-up to the furry-browed kid behind the counter.

Caterpillar Brows handed us two balls. “Okay, guys, have fun,” he said. “Tell Kaylee I said hi.” 

 

***

 

And so, we played mini golf. 

Honestly, I wouldn’t be the right person to describe a game of golf in proper golf terminology. I couldn’t even properly hold a golf club until Ben so expertly showed me how. But I will say that he did kick my ass. Apparently the fewer the hits, the better, and Ben only told me this after I jumped up and down with child-like glee when I saw how high my score was. At least he let me down gently. He could have really rubbed it in and made me feel like crap, but instead he squeezed my shoulder, looked into my eyes, and told me that, no, I wasn’t winning but I was still “doing great.” 

A liar, but a sweet one.

While I was busy losing miserably, I had learned a bit about Ben. Like that he was a widower, and Kaylee? His five-year-old daughter. Two little details I wish I had known about before venturing on a date with him. Maybe then I could have spared him the shocked look on my face, and the lingering discomfort that hung in the air long after the game had ended.

“So, you didn’t know about Kaylee, huh?” he asked, as he pulled a Tupperware out of the picnic basket, along with a couple paper plates and plastic utensils. “I hope you like lemon chicken and rice. It really is incredible what you can do with a crockpot.”

I inhaled deeply as he opened the lid. “Real food sounds amazing, thank you.” He raised an eyebrow in question. “My sister is the take-out queen.”

“Ah, right. Liz … Single working parent. I totally understand.” I had also learned that Ben was a new veterinarian at his father’s animal clinic with a full schedule. “Kay and I used to live on McDonald’s and Taco Bell until my Mom got me the crockpot. Now, it’s crockpot dinners every night. Crockpot meatloaf, crockpot stew, crockpot baked ziti …”

He spooned chicken and rice out onto the plates, and as we set out to eat, he repeated, “You didn’t know about Kaylee.”

I took a bite of chicken, closing my eyes to savor the lemony zest. “This is so good,” I groaned.

“Thanks,” he said with his dimpled smile, “but are you purposely avoiding this conversation, or …”

I placed the plate in my lap and breathed out heavily. “No, I didn’t know that you have a daughter,” I said, avoiding his eyes by poking the rice around with my plastic fork.

The truth was, I was downright annoyed that I hadn’t known. Mark certainly had, and I was sure Liz did as well. It would have been nice to be aware of that little factoid before considering him as my rebound. What if we really hit it off for a while, and then decided to break up? How could I break the heart of a little girl, especially if she was to the point of calling me Mama Holly or something? I wasn’t sure I was prepared to handle that kind of baggage when I already carried too much of my own. 

As though he read my mind, Ben shook his head. “Look, I’m not looking for anything serious right now. I’m not going to be introducing you to my daughter anytime soon.” I breathed a sigh of relief, and felt my cheeks flush at how obvious my apprehension had been. “Feel better?” he asked with a laugh.

“Much,” I said, and felt that he could be exactly what I needed.

For a little while, at least.

We laughed, and I admired the emerald twinkle in his eyes. We talked and teased each other, and lightly touched hands and arms, and as the night went on, I felt that all too familiar tension growing between us. The more things progressed, the more I started to wonder if maybe I needed to slow things down. But it was hard to stop it, when he was so charming and nice to look at. I mean, the guy was a puppy and I wanted to take him home. 

“What time is it?” I asked, glancing at the phone he had kept next to him in the event his mother had an urgent need to call.

He checked the time as per my request, and with a shocked expression, he looked sadly to me. “Late, and I have to rescue my mom soon, although Kay’s probably sleeping, or at least I hope she is.” He paused for a moment, our eyes meeting. There was a longing gaze, one that seemed to speak for itself. “But if she is sleeping, my mom wouldn’t mind if she stayed over ...” 

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

My stomach fluttered at the suggestive line, and I knew how my body wanted me to respond. It wanted me to go back to his place, strip it of all its clothes, and ravage him until we both passed out in a pile of lust and sweat. Judging from the way he stared at me, passion churning in his eyes, I knew that was exactly what he wanted too. I mean, of course it was; he was the one who brought it up, and if I needed any more proof of what his thought process might have been, he soon provided it by inching his face towards mine, staring into my eyes with every move. 

I helped close the space between us by thrusting my mouth toward his, and all at once, our lips were acquainted. His were soft against mine and it didn’t take many pecks before we escalated into a bundle of sexual rage; both of us reacting to a desire left untouched for too long. His hands were in my hair while mine fisted his jacket, and our tongues tangled, invading each other’s mouths. His fingers traveled up and down my back, pulling at my shirt and everything else they could grab, and all I could wonder was how far away his place was. 

And then, as Ben’s hand was sliding its way up the front of my top, and I was preparing myself to have sex with a new man on an old blanket, his cellphone chimed. With fatherly concern, he pulled away immediately without a moment’s hesitation and checked the screen, leaving me to adjust my twisted sweater.

“Oh God,” he groaned as he turned to me. The fire in his eyes had been extinguished and it was replaced with guilt. “I’m so sorry. Mom is asking when I’m picking her up.” 

I shook my head and smiled. “Oh, don’t apologize. It’s fine.” 

Ben smiled a little through his embarrassment and said, “Well, I guess it’s safe to say I’d really like to see you again.”

“Good, because I’d really like to see you too.”

It was the truth. I hadn’t thought about anybody else all night, and it felt good. Refreshing. Safe.

Comfortable.

“Maybe next time I’ll make you my famous crockpot spaghetti and meatballs,” he said, and flashed me that dimpled smile.

And that was how I met Ben.