6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Charlotte

"Where are you going for this date?" Carmen asks.

"He invited me on a picnic in the park. I'm meeting him at seven."

"Oh, jumping straight into romantic walks in the park under the stars, are we?" Carmen's teasing is completely uncalled for, especially since she's the one who set me up on the app to begin with.

"You're the one who got me into this, so you better pray that it goes well. If I get unalived in the park tonight, it will be all your fault. Are you prepared to have that on your conscience for the rest of your life?"

"First of all, you're the one who decided to meet in person so soon. You could have said no and continued your messaging. However, I highly doubt the guy is going to murder you in the park. Which park is he taking you to? I'll send in scouts."

"You are not sending your husband to the park to spy on us. Forget it. I'll be fine."

Ginger snuggles up to me and plants her drooly face on my lap. I wonder if I should take her with me since I don't like leaving her alone so much, but I don't want to seem like a crazy dog lady by messaging Andrew again. Requesting a double date with my dog seems more than desperate. Doesn't it? Who knows.

Andrew Rossi. It's a nice name. A name that seems like a decent guy might be attached to it, so I pray God won't let me walk into a complete nightmare. A flash of Rory's face gives me a bout of indigestion. I moved fast with that one, too, and all it got me was emotional destruction. Carmen is right. I should have messaged him longer and put off a date until next week.

"You'll call me when you're home though, right? All joking aside, I do want to know that you got home okay."

Worry gnaws at my stomach. "Should I reschedule? Stick to the original plan and message him longer?"

I'm met with silence for a few heartbeats which does not help my nerves. "I honestly don't know, Lots. If you felt a connection, then go for it. If you're having second thoughts, you can always call him and ask if you can chat again."

"We did sort of pass right over texting into a phone conversation. And he seems nice enough."

"Listen, we both know that a jerk is a jerk, and if he is one, it'll show. Maybe going on the first date will help. You had seven other matches if this one doesn't work out."

I don't bother mentioning that I have no intention of seeking round two if this doesn't work out. My nerves are already out of control, and I can't imagine starting over and over.

"Still, if you want a scout just call me. You know the hubs will watch out for you."

"I know he would, but I'm sure it'll be fine. I'll call you when I get home so you don't worry."

"Yes, go. Hurry and give me all the amazing details later! Love you!" She hangs up without a response, pretty typical for her.

After showering, I pull on a pair of skinny, ankle-length jeans and my favorite tee. My friends think it's hilarious to gift me punny math shirts but I secretly adore it. My crisp white tee says circles have no point in big purple letters with a purple circle rolling its eyes at a rectangle cracking the joke. I pull on my white sneakers and grab my lightweight jacket just in case there is some prayer that Georgia might not suffocate me once the sun goes down.

I decide to leave my hair down and take a hair tie with me. Andrew didn't specify what sort of date this might be—formal or casual—but I'm working under the assumption that it is casual since it's a picnic. I already made chocolate chip brownies for dessert so I grab the cooled tray and my keys, give Ginger a pat and head out. My purse holds pepper spray just in case he is a jerk, but I hope I never have to use it.

Driving into the historic district is never my favorite thing, but the buildings are beautiful and there is so much to do once you find a place to park. It's approaching tourist season, so there are a lot of people milling around. I don't dare come down here during the hottest months of summer, not when there are plenty of other things to do like spend the day at the beach or read inside an air conditioned library.

Once I find a place to park, I grab my things and try to calm my racing nerves. It's just a date. It's scary, but I remind myself that this might be what I need to feel more like myself. I'm off lately, not so sunny and happy, and I hate it. Even if it doesn't work out, I'm over the first big hump—my first date after Rory. Maybe, if I'm lucky, he'll be nice enough for a second date.

I follow the trail lined by Spanish moss covered live oak trees until the beautiful fountain comes into view. Scanning the area, I don't see anyone that looks like the image burned into my mind. Andrew is, in a word, Adonis-like perfection. Make that three words. His profile didn't list much about his work, but it did say he likes dogs and outdoor activities.

I keep watch for him while I stroll around the fountain, but I'm soon lost in my thoughts as people pass by with various snacks from local vendors. I slow to a stop and lean on the gate to let the mist cool my face.

"Charlotte?"

Holy wow. That tone. The deep timbre of a man's voice sends chills down my spine, but I don't have time to work through that before a soft brush of his hand over my elbow sends my anxiety into overdrive. I stiffen and turn around as he steps back.

"I'm sorry. I called your name a few times, but you didn't seem to hear me," he says. His gorgeous hazel eyes twinkle as he takes in my facial features.

I'm supposed to say something. Acknowledge that I am who he thinks I am. Breathe, maybe. But his stunning good looks are done zero justice by the profile picture he chose. His full lips spread into a smile.

"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."

"It is. Do you know the history?" He shakes his head, so I bestow a little Savannah history on him. "Bull Street has always been the site of monuments and homes owned by wealthy people, and they would stroll down the street to this area. It was a small park but in the 1850's, the elite were obsessed with French culture and wanted to expand the park and add a fountain. Long story short, they commissioned this fountain to mimic French fountains. The funny thing is, when they first started it up, it sprayed everyone because the water pressure was way too high. They had to add that larger basin to ensure it caught all the water."

"Really?" he asks.

"Well, water conservation efforts have forced the city to reduce its consumption. It still does a nice job of cooling the area though." I finish my sandwich and lean back on my hands. Kicking my feet out, I stare at the fountain, not noticing that Andrew is watching me until he speaks again.

"It's certainly a beautiful sight."

I get the feeling he isn't talking about the fountain but don't dare thank him in the off chance that he is, and my brain is in overdrive. Instead, I offer the tray of brownies. I can't decide if this date is a disaster or perfection. It's slow and leisurely, but I can't help thinking it's awkward. Like we're both holding back.

Because I am. Fear rushes through me and I break a light sweat. Hopefully, if he notices he'll merely chalk it up to the temperature. I'm not afraid of him but that, yeah, this is nice so…what's the catch? Where's the spark? The frenzied need to consume every piece of information he can offer, because it can all disappear in the blink of an eye?

And…he's staring at me. I point at the brownies. "Want one? I made them myself."

"I thought you'd never ask. I wanted to skip the sandwich to have one." He puts his hand palm out and I finally notice he's dressed as casually as I am. Jeans, a tee, and sneakers. Thank goodness I didn't wear a dress or something more formal. I barely plop the treat into his hand before he crams half of it into his mouth. His eyes roll back and he grumbles something that sounds like, "This is amazing."

"You like them? They're my best friend's recipe." I nibble on one and try not to watch him devour his.

"They're so good. Your best friend is a genius apparently. Is this the friend who made you use the app?"

I groan and cover my face. "Ugh, yes. And incidentally, she set it up without telling me, so I had no control over what she wrote about me. I'm sure my other two friends had zero input. If they had, it would have been a better picture."

"Well, was the information accurate?" he asks. "Mine was. Owen knows me well."

"Oh, yeah. For sure, the lists and other information was accurate. I guess that's good, but that picture. Ugh."

He steals another brownie and mimics my relaxed position. "I don't know. The picture is what drew me in. Anyone who uses a picture of her dog kissing her must be confident. Thus far, I am not disappointed." He licks his lips and his pretty eyes focus on me again. I'm positive he's of Italian heritage based on that black hair and olive skin coupled with his last name. Maybe Greek or some other mediterranean lineage, but whatever it is, he has good genes.

"Well, thank you. Ginger, my dog, is obsessed with kissing my cheek. I guess it was an accurate depiction of my everyday life."

"Mine's a German shepherd named Goblin. I didn't name him though. He came with the moniker and it fit him at the time. He was…" Andrew pauses and quirks his lips up on one side. His concentration gives me another moment to take him in. He's fit, doesn't seem shy at all, and hasn't run off yet. Three plusses. "Okay, he was a terror. He destroyed everything in my house, but once I got him some professional training, he settled down."

"Ginger can be naughty too, especially when I've been away from home too long. In the summer, I leave her doggy door unlocked so she can go out and play in her little pool. I can't in the winter though, because her activity of choice if there's no pool is digging out of the fence."

"Ha," Andrew chuckles and runs his hand through his dark hair. "Goblin just leaps over them. I have a playset in the yard from the pervious owner, and he learned to slide. Maybe sometime you can bring Ginger over for a playdate." He stiffens a little and quickly adds, "I mean, you don't have to come inside my house if you're not comfortable. Just the yard or something, you know. Or even the dog park in my neighborhood."

There is nothing about Andrew that screams serial killer just yet, so I'm not too worried. But yeah, dates at his place are a long way off. We haven't even finished this one and we've both alluded to more. "Eh, I'm not worried. If you try anything I'll pepper spray you and release Ginger on you."

He chuckles again and slyly slides closer to me. People pass by, occasionally glancing at us. Some gawk and point at him, but he still doesn't seem to notice. It's a bit odd, kinda freaks me out, but I wouldn't even begin to know how to address it without seeming insane. Still, it's beginning to make me a little uncomfortable. It's cooling down a bit and the sun is setting, so I suggest something else.

"Want to take a walk down to River Street and watch the sunset?"

Already feeling the need for lip balm from the sun, I lick my lips. His gaze dips to them and lingers for a beat, then he clears his throat and nods.

"Sure. I'd love to. You mind if I drop the basket in my truck first?"

Did he just stare at my lips? It's only fair. I've been watching his like a starving woman at an all you can eat buffet, but I suck at figuring out men so I don't know. I stand and brush imaginary dirt from my jeans. "Yeah, I don't mind. Lead the way."