Beau whistled every time one of our players hit the ball. He was intensely focused on the field. He got up a few times to run to the concession stand between innings. We had pretzels, a bag of peanuts, hotdogs, and nachos. It seemed like the ultimate guy dinner.
It was finally the bottom of the ninth and we had the bases loaded. Candace hadn’t prepared me for this scenario, but I was on the edge of my seat. If we didn’t hit someone home, we were going to lose. I didn’t need a baseball manual to realize this was crucial.
“Come on, Heels!” I yelled at the top of my voice.
“You’ve turned into quite the fan.” Beau smiled at me, then pierced the night with his fan whistle.
I blushed.
Number seven was at bat. This was it. The first pitch whizzed past him. The umpire called it a strike. The crowd around us booed wildly. He shuffled his feet in the batter’s box then steadied himself to face the pitcher. The ball sailed through the air, and I heard his bat hit it with the crystal clear sound of a solid whack. The stands erupted with cheering. Seven had done it. The runners ran across home plate—we won. The people next to me were going crazy.
Before I knew what was happening, Beau picked me up by the waist and smothered me in a hug. His chest was warm and hard. I didn’t even care that he was holding me so tightly I couldn’t breathe. As quickly as I was in his arms, he dumped me back on my feet.
“Sorry.” He quickly hopped over the stadium seating and headed for the exit.
I hesitated for a second. I wanted to rewind that moment, but I remembered the picnic basket in my trunk. Maybe it could happen again.
“London, you coming?” Beau hollered from the top of the concourse.
“On my way.” I took the stairs two at a time, dodging the slow pokes.
Beau waited at the top of the staircase. “Thanks for going to the game with me. It was a good win. I’ll get my date recap posted on the blog tomorrow sometime.”
“Wait. I don’t think the date should be over.” I pulled him over to the side of the line of traffic so everyone could walk around us.
“What are you talking about? We only have one date this week. We’re right on schedule with the show.”
“Victoria had more than one part to each of her dates. It’s not the first time we’ve had a doubleheader.” I hoped he appreciated I had worked in a baseball reference. “I brought a part two.”
I could see him moving backward. “I don’t think that’s such a great idea. We have enough to blog about after this date.”
“Beau, just give it a chance. It’s in my trunk.”
“The date is in your trunk?” He paused. “Ok. Well, now I’m curious. Let’s take a look.”
I led him out of the ballpark and down the block to where I had parked my car. The parking lights flashed when I pressed the unlock button on my re
mote, and popped the trunk. Beau followed me to the back of the car.
“What’s that?” He pointed at the picnic basket.
“Uh, it’s a picnic basket.”
“I know what it is. I mean, why is there a picnic basket?”
“Look inside.”
He sighed before reaching into the trunk and flipping open the lid of the basket. I watched as he rifled through the contents. I waited for him to register the significance of the menu.
“And you think this is a good idea?” He looked at me with one raised eyebrow and tucked his hands in his pockets.
“In the spirit of the show, I think we have to have a second part to this date. And one where we guarantee not to torch the food. I didn’t bring a single candle. Promise.”
I could almost feel his resolve thawing. “And where do you propose we have this part two picnic date?” He looked toward the ballpark. It was still crawling with fans and workers.
“How about the arboretum? I know it’s on your bucket list and I’ve never been there at night.”
Beau scuffed his shoe against the sidewalk. A few heavy seconds lapsed before he finally answered. “Ok. But just one drink.”