Page 87 of Mom Ball

“I wanted to take you to Tuscaloosa for dinner and coffee, but those games lasted longer than I expected,” Nate says.

“How long have you planned this?”

“Since Enchilada.”

My lips twitch. They want to smile, but my face is still in shock.

Nate’s always had a sweet, romantic streak. He would surprise me often. The last time we were together, he had surprised me with a visit.

I swallow.

“Since we’ve had a long day, I thought that tonight a picnic might be nice.”

“That does sound nice.” I blink, mentally cleansing the past from my view and focusing on the present.

Nate’s smile spreads across his face and he holds out a hand. I take it, almost in a trance. It’s an odd feeling when something you dreamed about happens.

Over the years, I’d sometimes dream of Nate and me together. What would we be like as adults? What kind of life would we have? It’s so similar to my imagination that I bite my tongue to make sure I’m awake.

“Ouch,” I whisper.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” I mumble with a throbbing tongue.

He leads me to his truck and opens my door. I hide a laugh at the memory of his old truck. Sometimes the passenger door wouldn’t even open from the outside. But he’d always open it for me from the inside, then hop out and help me in.

Some women find it belittling for a guy to help them in a truck. But I have a soft spot for Southern gentleman. Plus, I’m short.

I settle into the same scent from earlier today, along with something cheesy. I sniff the air. “Is that lasagna?”

“Yeah.” Nate grins as he turns toward me to back out of the drive. “I had Mom cook.”

My mouth waters with anticipation. “I haven’t had her lasagna in years. She usually brings a dessert to church dinners.”

“She has this thing about food having to be hot, and according to her, Crockpots aren’t real cooking.”

I laugh. That sounds like Anne.

We slow down near his house, so I assume we’re going there. Instead, he stops at the pasture and opens the gate. I wait as he climbs back in, drives inside, and closes it back up.

“I’ve thought about bonfires ever since the day I saw you again.” He smiles at me.

Images of high school come to mind. We used to gather on tailgates with friends and light a fire at the edge of the field.

He drives to that very spot and parks. Definitely nostalgic. I haven’t gone this far in the pasture since high school. Mainly because of the bull, but also because I didn’t have Nate there.

“Too bad I couldn’t get Colt to serenade us. He’s in Montana.”

“Really?” I hadn’t kept up with our classmate and one of Nate’s closest baseball buddies, but I’d heard he was still playing music.

“On tour with a country band as their lead guitarist.”

“Nice.”

We get out, and Nate pulls down the tailgate.

“Yeah, I guess I’m back to being the disappointment of our class.”

---