Page 15 of Caught Stealing

“You are Charlotte Clarke, right? Or did I just make a complete fool of myself and scare a stranger?” He’s got a basket. A literal picnic basket like Dorothy carried around in Oz dangling from one arm. There is even a red checkered blanket peeking out. He dips his head, which reminds me I still haven’t answered him.

“Yes. Hi, I’m Charlotte. Lottie. You can call me Lottie.” I offer my hand like some kind of psycho formally introducing myself to him. His grin widens and he gently shakes my hand before motioning toward an open space on the grass not far from the fountain.

“Shall we, Lottie?”

Yes. We shall. Holy smokes, other women are staring at him and I can’t say that I blame them. Andrew is a full head taller than me, sports a short scruffy beard like he’s one of those expensive watch or cologne models, and a level of patience that doesn’t make me feel like an idiot for still staring at him instead of following him.

“Oh, yes. Sorry, I just haven’t been on a date in a while. I’m admittedly a little nervous,” I say. Why? I don’t know, but at least he only shrugs.

“Me either. I don’t have a lot of time for it usually, but my friend encouraged me to try the app. I’m glad I did,” he says and winks at me.

Butterflies—no, not butterflies. Probably dragons erupt in my stomach and my cheeks heat. This is a disaster. The man is going to run away once he realizes how weird I am around men. Of course, I forgot all about that until thirteen seconds ago, but now that I’ve remembered, I can’t stop thinking about not screwing up. It’s been years since I’ve been on a first date, but I remember well the first one I had with Rory. There was kissing. So much kissing, and I have to bite my lip to force myself back to the present moment.

We’ve wandered a bit searching for the best spot, but there are a lot more people than I expected.

“This looks like a good spot.” He pauses and I run right into his back, bounce off, and regain my composure. I’m a complete freak. Good that he sees this while we’re in public. “Is this okay?”

“It’s perfect. Need some help with the blanket?” I ask and point to the checkered fabric sticking out of the basket.

“Sure. I didn’t know what you’d like, so I made a few kinds of sandwiches and packed veggies. I also have grapes and oranges in case you prefer fruit.” He sets the basket down and kneels in the grass to yank the blanket free. When he does, juice boxes fly out and one hits me right in the corner of my eye. “Oh, no! I’m so sorry.”

I wink my eye shut and cover it with my hand while it waters. “I haven’t been attacked by a juice box since I was a kid, but it still hurts just like I remember,” I joke, trying to stop him from worrying. It doesn’t work.

“Lemme see,” he insists and grasps my chin with one hand while brushing my hair from my face with the other.

My knees wobble but I manage to focus on the task at hand. Prying my eye open is harder than I expect, but I do so while he inspects the damage he’s inflicted upon me. I blink a few times and it feels better.

“I’m okay. See, I can blink and everything.” To prove my point, I keep blinking which brings a laugh to those lips that are right at eye level. Geez, I’m staring at his lips. I look away and step back. Andrew drops his hands and returns his focus to the picnic set up.

“Well, that was probably not a good first impression. Assaulting my date with little grape juice is a little embarrassing.”

“Eh, who hasn’t done it?” I ask and settle on the grass. He sits across from me and continues unpacking the basket, this time with more care. He lays it out, so I shift onto it and drop my brownie tray beside the spread he brought. I catch a whiff of his cologne, something sporty but not common. Maybe it’s his soap? I can’t place it, but it’s a nice, fresh scent that doesn’t knock me over like most of the scents the male teachers at school wear.

“Those look good. I like brownies,” he says and hands me a sandwich. “Do you like turkey?”

“Love it, thanks.” I open the plastic wrap and take a bite, hoping that having food in my mouth will keep stupid words from coming out. I cannot imagine why this man clicked on me for a possible match, but he’s about to get a first row seat to how awkward and socially inept a woman can be.

“Circles have no point?” he says and laughs. “I like punny shirts. Tell me about this statistics job. High school, you said, right?”

I swallow and nod. “Yep, I’m a high school teacher, which isn’t really what I wanted to do but I needed a job out of college and it stuck.” Before I take another bite, I ask the obvious question. “What do you do?”

“I work for the Savannah Sharks,” he says with a cautious glance my way.

It does set off a mild warning in my brain, but it’s more of a yellow light than a full stop red. I should flat out ask what he does, but since he didn’t offer the title up right away, I figure he’s probably worried I’ll hound him for good seats or something.

“That must be cool. I don’t know much about baseball, but it seems fun. My sister loves it.”

“I feel like it would be right up your alley. Lots of statistics involved.” He offers me the veggie tray so I take a few carrot slices. People still stare at him as if they’ve never seen a handsome man before. He doesn’t seem to notice. In fact, his attention is fully on me.

“Maybe I’ll have to give it a chance. Take me to a game sometime?”

Oh my gosh. What? We haven’t even gotten ten minutes into this date and I’m asking him on another one? Plus, this is probably exactly what he didn’t want to happen. My cheeks warm again. I’m positive I look like a strawberry, but he doesn’t miss a beat. “You don’t have to. Sorry, I sort of pushed that on you.”

He fights what can only be described as a smirk. “No, I’d like that. I must have made a good impression with the juice box incident if you already want another date.” He says this with a different sort of grin, one I suspect means he’s feeling a little full of himself.

I shrug. “We’ll see. If you can keep your food to yourself for the rest of this date, I might be game for another. Remember, you already have one strike.”

“I’ll do my best.” He chuckles and takes a bite of his sandwich and motions toward the fountain. “I’ve always liked that. It’s beautiful.”

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