Six of Hearts(71)
His tone dips low on the word “positions,” and I focus on chewing the salty, crispy bacon he cooked for me. “No need for any show-and-tell.”
Jay chuckles, and we eat in quiet for a minute.
“Are you doing anything later on?” he asks then. “I’d like to take you somewhere.”
“Not really. I’m going to do some sewing today, then I’m free as a bird. Where do you want to take me?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Hmm, I’m beginning to think you might be just as partial to annoying secrets as you are to positions, Mr Fields,” I joke.
“Yeah, well, it’s not my fault I love those little gasps you make when you’re surprised,” he answers brazenly, a taunting gleam in his eye.
I point my slice of toast at him. “You’re in rare form this morning.”
“I’m glad my form impresses you.”
“You would be glad, you…peacock.”
A bark of laughter erupts from him. “Peacock?”
“What? I’m tired. I’m not good at thinking up witty comebacks when I’m tired.”
“You know, I do like the way your lips move when you say ‘peacock.’”
I look at him, my mouth forming a surprised “O.” When I find the words to speak, I give him a flat, “Shut up.”
“Finish your breakfast and get some energy into you, tired Tilly,” he says, looking at me fondly.
I stab a piece of bacon with my fork. “Don’t call me Tilly.”
He raises his hands in the air, laughing. “Okay. You don’t like Tilly. Duly noted.”
***
If there’s one thing that I love doing with Jay, it’s riding with him…in his car. Minds out of the gutter, please. He gave me strict instructions not to eat any dinner, and when we were leaving, he tucked a large duffel bag in the trunk. I thought he might be taking me out to dinner, but the duffel bag threw me. So now I haven’t the foggiest where he’s taking me or what he plans on doing when we get there.
I mess around with my seat, reclining it so I can relax and let the wind rush through my hair, the window open beside me. Jay parks in a Georgian area of the city and helps me out, retrieving the duffel bag.
“You don’t have a bunch of murder weapons in there, do you?” I joke as he leads me down the street.
He only gives me an elusive smile. “Nope.”
We near a small park, and there’s a line of people queuing up outside the gates. Jay takes my hand in his, our fingers intertwining as we join the queue.
“If you don’t tell me what this is, I’m going to ask the people standing in front of us,” I push.
“Do it and face the consequences,” he warns.
I scowl and resign myself to not knowing until he decides it’s time to reveal his plans. The queue moves forward slowly, and when we reach the gates leading into the park, I crane my neck to see inside. I can’t see much, but I do notice some pretty fairy lights hung through the trees. They look magical.
Jay hands the girl at the gate two tickets, and she stamps our hands with red dots. Pulling me inside, Jay leads me through the trees lined with fairy lights and into an open grassy area where people are setting down blankets and picnics. At the top of the open space, someone has set up at huge projection screen, and that’s when it all clicks into place. Outdoor cinema! I’ve never been to an outdoor cinema before. How wonderful.
“Jay,” I whisper to him, touched.
He turns his head to me slightly, but keeps walking, searching for a good spot to set up.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for bringing me here. I love it.”
He smiles tenderly. “The movie hasn’t even started yet.”
“What is it?”
He gives me a shiver-inducing look. “The Piano.”
His answer makes me blush like crazy. Trust him not to forget about me telling him how much I, uh, enjoy that film. He doesn’t draw out my embarrassment, but instead pulls a fleece blanket from the duffle bag and spreads it out on a patch of grass close to the back of the park. The sky is starting to darken, somewhere in between day and night, and a terrible sense of romance clutches at my chest. He planned all of this. For me. For us.
Um, yeah. That’s just a cough that’s catching in my throat. It’s not emotion, I swear.
Gesturing for me to sit down, he takes some plastic food containers out of the bag and a small chill box containing a bottle of wine. Hmm, is he planning on getting me drunk? The food is an array of sandwiches, chips, and dips. The perfect picnic combination.
“This is nice,” I say, giving him a curious smile. “You planned all this yourself?”