Page 69 of His Hungry Wolf

Entering the living room, I looked over at the kitchen. There was something unusual about it. There was actual food in it. But not just any food. There were things that would make for a weird non-date.

“Where are we going?” I asked him again when he left the bathroom five minutes later.

“See. Now that’s how you take a shower. Let me just get dressed and we’ll go,” he said, looking incredible wrapped in a towel.

Retrieving the basket from the kitchen counter, we headed to his car.

“So, you’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?” I asked both nervous and excited.

“I told you I was going to show you where we are.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, my pulse building with intrigue.

He looked at me with a devilish smile. “You’ll see.”

Driving toward the coast and away from the setting sun, we found ourselves next to a bluff. Cutting across it and stopping at what looked like a national park, we parked the car and got out.

“Where are we?” I asked, confused.

“It’s the Bay Bluffs. It’s a preserve.”

“It looks closed,” I observed.

“Which is why we’re taking the long way in,” he said with a smile.

Retrieving the basket for him, he led us around the pine log fence into the thicket of trees. Walking for a few minutes, we eventually came upon a carpentered walkway. Continuing down the path past a wooded area that reminded me of home, we eventually spilled out onto a long, empty beach.

“This is Pensacola. It’s the best the city has to offer,” Merri said, gesturing toward the white sand and pool-blue water in front of us.

“It’s beautiful,” I admitted.

“Are you ready for something to eat? I picked up a few things at the store while you were in the shower,” he said, retrieving the basket from me. “I also brought a blanket. Should I put it out?”

“Sure,” I said, feeling my heartbeat quicken. “But it’s going to be dark soon.”

“I also brought candles,” he said, pulling them out of the basket. “They have covers so they won’t blow out. See,” he said, showing me.

Watching him lay out the blanket and set up the candles, my heart pounded. This non-date was starting to feel an awful lot like a date date. And when he pulled out the bottle of wine and began pouring, I sat.

“I probably shouldn’t,” I said, feeling myself withdraw.

“One night of wine isn’t going to hurt training. Besides, tonight is about relaxing. Relax,” he said with a smile.

Taking the cup, I scanned the rest of what he brought. None of it was on my diet plan. Cheese, crackers, fatty meats, jams—it all looked incredible.

“You went all out,” I told him, feeling my nerves kick in.

“I figured you’ve been working so hard that you deserve it. Are you gonna have some?”

I fought my desire to pull away. “I don’t know.”

“Please. For me.”

Looking at him, I couldn’t refuse. He could talk me into doing anything. I had no resistance to him.

“Of course,” I said, stacking everything together. Taking a bite, I was surprised. “It’s good!”

“It’s called carbs,” Merri joked.

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