“Where are we going?”
Batton looked over, his long, dark lashes framing his eyes in a way that made him look ridiculously handsome. Had he always been so handsome?
“If I told you that, then it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
“I’m not sure if I want you to surprise me.”
He chuckled. “We’ve come too far for you to back down now.”
“I’m not backing down,” she huffed. “Not from any challenge that you throw at me.”
“Point taken. Ah, here we are.”
He pulled into the Red Pirate and her jaw dropped. “You’re bringing me here?”
“I am.”
The local establishment had been around for as long as she could remember. Inside was a family restaurant, but the outside had a mini golf course that was usually inhabited by one or two cats who lived outside.
Batton had brought her here plenty of times in high school, so the fact that he’d return for their first date meant that the place still held meaning for him.
She dragged her gaze from the mini golf course to glance into his eyes. She’d been so hard on him, even had her guard up while they were driving over. But seeing this place made all her defenses crumble.
“I haven’t been here in years.”
“Me neither.”
She grinned. “Which are we doing first—golf or eating?”
“Your pick.”
“Golf. I want to work up an appetite.”
He laughed, the sound seeping into her bones and making her heart ache for him. “Whatever you’d like.”
They got out and bought a round of golf. Two families with elementary-aged children were sprinkled throughout the course, but the first half was open.
Shelby lined up her first shot. “I plan on beating you.”
Batton slipped a hand into his pocket and slumped onto one hip. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“Hole in one. I’m calling it.”
“Go for it.”
And it was. Her first shot was a hole in one. “Beat that.”
He lined up, his strong shoulders and arms making the putter look miniscule in comparison. With one gentle tap of the ball, it rolled down the lane and dropped straight into the cup.
“Looks like you’ve been practicing.”
He plucked the ball from the hole, blew on it and rubbed it on his shirt. “Let’s just say when it comes to mini golf, I’m nearly a pro.”
A laugh bubbled out of her, but she wasn’t about to give up that quickly. For the next eighteen holes, they were neck and neck, Shelby only falling behind when they had reached the last few.
By the time they reached the last two holes, she was down by two points. Batton could easily be overtaken if he’d just…not play so good.
“I’m up.” He swung his club and sank the ball in three shots.
She had a chance at winning! Shelby sank her ball in two, which meant she only had to make up one point to tie. If he did poorly on the last hole, she could win.
On the last hole she stepped aside. “You first.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He sank the ball in two strokes. When it was her turn, she noticed sweat slicking her palms. She ran her hands down her shorts and grasped the end of the club.
A hole in one. That was all she needed to tie. She swallowed down a knot in her throat, swung the club back and tapped the ball.
It sailed to the right, hugging the wall, and careened down the slope on its way to the hole. “Come on.”
It slipped to the side, skimming the rim, and for a brief second she knew the ball would keep going. But at the last second it circled and sank into the hole.
“Yes!” She jumped. “It’s a tie!”
In her excitement at not quite beating Batton but in doing the next best thing, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. He stiffened slightly before his fingers curled into her waist and his mouth dropped to her neck. His breath caressed her skin, and it was only then that she realized what she was doing.
Shelby pulled back slightly and tilted her face toward his. Batton straightened and their cheeks grazed as he rose to his full height.
His fingers lightly touched her sides, and her hands rested on his shoulders as if they were about to waltz. Their gazes crashed into one another, and she released a staggering breath.
In that moment she wasn’t thinking of all the hurt she had gone through the past years being left by him. She wasn’t even thinking about how much her heart had been crushed when Batton left to pursue his dreams. All she knew was that she was lost in his eyes.
Everything stopped. She was supposed to say something, wasn’t she? There was a thought in the back of her mind, but it wouldn’t quite come.
He spoke first, the right side of his mouth curling into a smile, revealing that dimple. “We tied.”
That was what she was going to talk about. She opened her mouth to speak and realized that a huge knot was jamming it up. She swallowed it down, licking her lips in the process. His gaze fell to her mouth, and heat instantly rose on her cheeks.
She released her hands from his shoulders and stepped away. His fingers brushed her waist before falling to his sides. “Yes, we tied. I really wanted to win, but seeing as how you were two strokes ahead and we were down to the last two holes, that was pretty much impossible.”
“You still tied. That deserves a treat. Want to grab some food?”
She cocked her brow. “Are you asking me to dinner at the Red Pirate?”
“Unless you’d rather we go somewhere else.”
“Nah. This place is fine. You can treat me to a victory dinner.”
He grabbed his golf club from the ground, where it had apparently fallen when she’d flung her arms around him. Hers was also on the ground. Shelby hadn’t even realized that she’d dropped it.
Before she could get it, Batton plucked it from the Astroturf and smiled at her. His blue eyes were warm, and the softness of his mouth made her want to reach out and touch it to see if it was made of flesh and blood and not putty, like it looked.
But that was silly; she knew how his lips felt, soft and pliable. He walked beside her, his arm brushing hers, and every time it did, it sent little sparks flaring on her skin.
They were seated quickly, and she ordered crab legs and he ordered grilled chicken.
“How’s your dad?” she asked.
He sipped a glass of ice water and put it down. “He’s getting stronger day by day.” His gaze flicked from his glass to her. “My mom asked about you.”
Her stomach tightened with sadness. She’d loved his mom so much. When she’d lost Batton, she also lost his family. Sure, she could’ve kept in touch, but talking to them hurt too much.
“How did you tell her that I’m doing?”
He tsked. “I told her that you found the love of your life and ran off to join the circus as a flying trapeze artist.”
She threw a wadded-up straw wrapper at him. “No fair. I didn’t get to tell her about how you quit your job to become a pirate and sail the seven seas.”
He tossed back his head and laughed. When he righted his face, Batton said, “But that wouldn’t have beaten how after you became a trapeze artist, you decided to walk a tightrope between the Empire State Building and whatever building is closest to it, which was a daring success, I might add.”
“So that means I get to tell her that now the British are after you because you sank one of their galleons.”
“Those only belonged to the Spanish.”
“Same thing.”
“Nope. Not at all.”
She laughed and it felt like her heart was expanding, like it was sucking on its own canister of helium. She was inflating until she was light enough to float up to the sun, which in this case seemed to be Batton.
“My parents would like to see you.”
Her heart stuttered to a stop. “They would?”
“If you want to see them.”
He studied her as she considered it. The server appeared out of nowhere and dropped their plates off. They didn’t talk as they dived into their food.
The crab legs were tender and sweet, a perfect way to end the evening. “How’s your chicken?”
“Good. Want some?”
“No thanks.”
“Come on. We used to share food all the time.”
“I know, but this is now.”
He cut off a chunk of chicken. “I think we should stop comparing now to then. For one thing, it’s not doing us any favors.” He dropped the chicken that she hadn’t asked for on her plate. “For another, we aren’t seventeen anymore. We’re older, different people, but not so different that my mom doesn’t want to see you. Just like she did ten minutes ago when I mentioned it.”
Her heart constricted. “This is a lot of pressure.”
He ignored her comment. “She wants you over for Sunday dinner.”
The crab leg she held nearly slipped from her fingers. “Dinner?”
“Dinner. She won’t take no for an answer. You know how my mom is.”
“Yes, I do.” Dinner with his parents sounded like a lot of pressure. She hadn’t been around them in years, and now they were welcoming her back into the fold as if she and their son were back together.
But they weren’t. They’d only played some mini golf and ate some food. They weren’t together, and that was what she needed to keep telling herself if she was going to have dinner with his family and not find herself getting too attached to them.
“She’ll make a roast,” he added, knowing exactly how to tempt her.
“With the yeast rolls?”
He nodded. “With the yeast rolls.”
Shelby placed her fists on her hips and said in a mocking voice, “Did your mama say all this so that I’d have no choice but to say yes?”
“I think that is a yes, and to make it even worse, I may have an added surprise for you.”
Her stomach dropped because she knew exactly what that surprise was. “You still have the track.”
“The one my dad passed down to me?”
“That’s the one.” She snapped a crab leg in two and pulled out the sweet meat. “We’re talking about the electric track, the one with the cars and the guns, and how I used to beat you every time we raced.”
He frowned, which created an adorable divot between his brows. She really hated that Batton was so adorable.
“If I remember correctly, I beat you a few times.”
“Nope, never happened,” she corrected.
“You didn’t win every time, Shel.”
Her nickname slipping off his lips made her ache for the past. She glanced at the crab legs, composing herself before lifting her chin in defiance. “Oh yes, I did. I won every. Single. Time.”
“You’re not going to win this time.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“So”—he wadded up his napkin and dropped it atop his plate—“does that mean I can tell my mom to expect you?”
She narrowed her eyes, always ready for a challenge. “Yes, it does.”