Chapter 8
Lucas
I have no idea what changed her mood so suddenly. Can she be that upset from catching me stare at her? I have to keep myself in check, stay in the present, not get too far ahead of myself or the night might not end the way I want. For a change that means a second date, not sex.
I usher her over to a seat at the table in the back of the room before I disappear to get the supplies Jessie hid for me. I can always count on him.
I glance toward the front of the store. The lights are dimmed and Jessie is nowhere to be found. He knows I'll lock up and return the keys in the morning.
Great. We’re alone. Just like I planned. I step out from the area behind the canvas with a large weaved basket in one hand and a blanket slung over my shoulder.
I notice a smile creep across Olivia’s face as she watches me lay the blanket across the green carpet.
“You going to stay there or join me for a picnic?”
“A picnic? Really?” Her eyes light up again. "I never had a real picnic. Not that this is real, but it's more real than no picnic at all, ever."
I smile as she rambles on, highlighting her nerves. Glad I’m not the only one trying to feel my way through the situation. I spread the blanket over the fake green grass.
“We can go anywhere you want. East coast. West coast. Augusta?”
"Anywhere?"
I nod.
"But you mean just on a golf course don't you?"
"Trust me, they're beautiful and can be incredibly romantic."
She twists her mouth, I can tell she doesn't believe me. Fine. I’ll prove it to her. Standing at the computer I search for a course I know well. One with a lot of trees and water hazards. I give us clear blue skies with nothing but birds chirping in the background.
Next, I set the time of day. I’m tempted to set it for night. I'd love to simulate a picnic under the moon, but I’m not sure if that might make her uncomfortable. Especially since I know what it will do for me.
I decide on sunset. It will start out light, and as time elapses we won't notice the darkening of the sky. Not for a while anyway. Hopefully by that time, she'll be ready for some romantic moonlight.
I move the basket onto the blanket and drop down to my knees. "It's hard to have a picnic if I'm here and you're all the way over there."
Olivia takes small steps. Her movements are graceful, like a ballerina. I enjoy watching her move. Even when she swung the golf club like a madwoman at the ball, I couldn't force my eyes off her. I haven't been so smitten with anyone in years.
It doesn't matter, it will be over soon. Once sex is out of the way they all lose their appeal. Although, Olivia has a sweet, sensual air about her that she seems oblivious to. In the end I doubt she'll be any different. For now though, I'll soak up every minute with her I can.
Olivia sits, her eyes alight with excitement and curiosity. I open the basket and start setting out the delicacies I prepared. First, I pull out a bottle of sangria and two glasses. In my experience it’s a good choice for beginners or someone that doesn’t really like wine.
I open the bottle and pour. I glance at her face, aware that she’s nervous and stop abruptly.
"You are old enough to drink, aren't you?"
"A little late to ask now, isn't it?" she teases.
"No seriously. I just realized I don't know how old you are."
"Seventeen."
"What?" I feel the color drain from my face. Seventeen! Holy shit. She’s nine years younger than me? I hear the clinking of the jail cell behind me. How the hell didn't I realize? Even though we only kissed, I can get in a lot of trouble with her. It’s not worth the risk.
"Relax, frat boy. I'm twenty-two and out of college. Yes, I can drink."
A wise ass huh? I want to pull her over my knee and spank that ass of hers until she begs me to stop. And then maybe bite it. Then lick it. My head spins with desire.
I should lay her down right now and teach her a lesson. I feel my jaw clench as I convince myself not to try to fuck her just yet. I’m not the problem, my growing dick is.
I give her a stern look as I take the plastic dishes out, placing one in front of each of us. Finally, I pull out a Tupperware container filled with the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I prepared.
"Look at this," She picks one up, "You quartered them and even trimmed the crust. I'm impressed."
I shrug. "It's a picnic, I thought this was picnic-y food. And who likes the crust?"
"You did good. It's my favorite."
"I think you're just saying that.” I size her up with my eyes. And for desert," I reach in the basket one more time for the container of fruit; grapes, strawberries and blueberries, along with a can of whipped cream.