Page 39 of Tastes Like Watermelon Moonshine
It feels like it’s been an hour, but I know it’s only been like five minutes. I’ve got some blush, mascara, and a light layer of eyeshadow that matches my shirt. Jaimie assesses me from every angle, declaring my makeup perfect.
“Now, for your hair.” Chrissy slides her fingers into my thick mass of honey-blonde hair. “What if we just curl it, then pull it half up?” Jaimie agrees.
“Simple and pretty. Works for me.” I’m glad they didn’t want to go all out on my hair.
Once my hair is done I pull on my white cowboy boots and we walk out the door.
My skin tingles with nervousness and anticipation. Like someone set a thousand butterflies loose and they’re walking all over me. “Y’all, is it obvious how nervous and excited I am? Please tell me that he won’t know.” I almost want to slink down in my seat.
“It’s your first ‘big girl’ date, it’s okay to be nervous.” Chrissy teases. Austin and I have been out plenty of times, but always with a friend or two. Always sticking to our dating boundaries. Though our friends will be with us, for a while it’ll just be me and Austin, alone while we eat our dinner. Jaimie and Chrissy spying on us from Jaimie’s truck.
I trust Austin. I trust myself. I’m not worried about slipping up and crossing our boundaries. I just worry that I’ll start being all awkward, or that I won’t know what to say. Or maybe I’ll just want to kiss his face off. Or run my hands down his chest. Ugh, I need to think about something else now.
“Want to pray before you go over? Just to thank God for this awesome experience?” That’s the Chrissy I know. Bringing it back to God.
“That’s a really good idea, Chris. Might help me feel less anxious.” I squeeze her hand as she reaches forward from where she sits in Jaimie’s back seat.
“God, thank you for Raegan, and for Austin. Thanks for the fun date that they get to have. Help them to have a good time and to honor You. Amen.”
After we hop out of the truck, Chrissy squeezes my shoulders and gives me a push toward the porch of the Rolling R whereAustin stands beside a table covered in a checkered cloth with a picnic basket set on top.
I suck my lower lip into my mouth as I walk across the grassy front acreage of the Rolling R. Austin looks as amazing as ever. He’s even wearing his cowboy boots today, and I know that he’s not a fan of them. The fact that he wore them for me causes my stomach to start somersaulting.
His boots tap across the hardwood as he steps forward and greets me. His hands are warm on my forearms, and I stand toe to toe with him, my hands splayed on his chest. A shiver of anticipation works its way from the top of my head to the tips of my toes as his eyes move to my lips, and he leans toward me, his nose brushing mine.
I tear my eyes from his and look at his smooth red lips. They part slowly and hover over mine, then slowly close as his lips meet mine. My eyes refuse to stay open any longer. His lips caress mine slowly at first, sweetly and gently. My hands make a lazy trail up to his neck as our lips start a dance of give and take.
Clutching the collar of his shirt, I’m begging for more. My heart gallops in my chest, and I want to stay this way forever. His teeth nibble my lower lip, startling me. It’s a new sensation, and I like it.
Heat begins to pool low in my belly. This new territory is terrifying and exciting all at once. If I like him nibbling on my lip, he’d probably like it if I did it to him. Tentatively I nip his upper lips with my teeth. He sucks in a sharp breath, telling me that he enjoyed it as much as I did.
“Okay, enough kissing y’all. Get to eating.” Chrissy’s voice from across the yard startles us, and we jump apart. Our cheeks sport matching circles of crimson. A sheepish smile covers Austin’s face, and he clears his throat before gazing once more at my lips.
“This way, m’lady.” He says with an exaggerated wave of his hand. I grab his hand and we head toward the folding table with its red and white gingham tablecloth. Paper plates and covered dishes are neatly arranged and complemented by mason jars filled with a light pink liquid. A vase full of wildflowers sits in the middle, and perfumes the air.
“I made you some fried chicken and macaroni salad. And we have pickles and chips, and your mom gave me some watermelon lemonade, she said it’s your favorite.”
“Did you really make the chicken and macaroni salad yourself?”
Austin ducks his head. “My mom helped me a little. But I did do a lot of it.” He meets my eyes with a look of pride. I reach for him, to hug him. We’ll pause the making out for now. I rest my head on his chest and revel in the sound of his heartbeat.
“I love it, Austin. It’s beautiful and amazing.”
He runs a hand over my hair before pulling away and pulling my chair out for me. He slides into his own seat and starts a playlist of soft country music on his phone. He looks just as nervous as I am. “Let’s pray and then I’ll pull out the food.” He reaches for my hands and bows his head.
His prayer is simple and sweet, and I can’t help but think about future dinners. Us at our own dining table, in our own house. He releases my hands and pulls the dishes from the basket. The scent of the meal teases my nose, making my stomach rumble.
“Sounds like you’re hungry.” He tells me with a laugh and a wink. He puts two drum sticks, several pickle spears, and a dollop of macaroni salad on my plate. “Dig in. I really hope you like it.”
I wish I could claim that I took a dainty bite of my chicken… But I didn’t. The paprika and cinnamon mix on it—I work in abakery, I know my spices—are heavenly, and I just want to shove the whole drumstick into my mouth.
I’m not one to moan over a bite of food, but this chicken just might make me do that. It’s tender and juicy, and the breading melts in my mouth.
“This is better than my Gram’s. But don’t tell her I said that.” I say with a wink after finally swallowing my bite. Austin grins, not saying anything since his mouth is full of macaroni salad.
“It’s apparently a family recipe passed down from my grandma that grew up here in Clear Creek.” He says around a swig of lemonade. “I really wasn’t sure what to make for you at first, but I think this is perfect. If I do say so myself.”
“It’s delicious. Everything goes well together, all the dishes compliment each other. There’s nothing like good home cooking.” I know this is a fact. I come from a long line of amazing cooks. My mom has somehow managed to cook homemade meals every day, can various vegetables and fruits, maintain a large garden, and still give everyone in the family the attention they deserve. I hope that I can be just as amazing at being a mom and running a household.
