Page 18 of Blueberry Cake
“I think I’ll be fine as long as you hold my hand through it.”
Queenie practically oozed happiness throughout the entire meal. By dinnertime, Boyd’s shirt was soaked through with sweat from spending the day in the sticky Texas heat. Queenie looked rather flustered as well, just not in the way Boyd would have wanted.
Back in the truck with the AC blasting, Queenie sighed and closed her eyes. “Okay, next time we should do this in the middle of winter.”
“The Christmas lights would be spectacular,” Boyd agreed.
“Oh yes, I forgot about those.”
“Do you want to stop for dinner?”
She looked exhausted but nodded anyway. “Take out? We can eat at my place if you’re okay with dinner without a view.”
“You’re my view.”
“If you had said that six hours ago without gallons of sweat dripping down my forehead I might have believed you.”
Boyd laughed, loving her sense of humour. After verifying that Italian was okay, he texted their order to theowner of his favourite spot. “Well, once we get to your place, you can do anything and everything that makes you feel more comfortable.”
“Definitely a shower.”
“Is that an open invitation as well?”
“You are more than welcome to have one, but we might test the limits of the space. I was going to offer you one anyway, but I wasn’t sure if you would be offended.”
“I’m a grown man. You can tell me when I stink without hurting my fragile little heart.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Exhausted, Queenie waited in the car while he collected their dinner. He was wiped out himself, but wasn’t quite ready to leave her side yet.
Queenie dozed on the drive, smiling at him apologetically when they parked outside her building.
“I won’t be upset if you don’t want me to stay,” Boyd told her, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. “You’re clearly exhausted.”
She shook her head and guided him to visitor parking. “Please stay.” He parked and Queenie froze before opening her door. “You want to open it, don’t you?”
“Only if you don’t think I’m too old school.”
“Old school yes, but it makes me feel special. I like that.”
As she wished, Boyd helped her to her feet and followed her to her first-floor apartment, carrying their dinner. Curiously, he looked around as he stepped in and Queenie locked the door behind her. The open floor plan gave way to a spacious kitchen with cosy, modern furniture and large windows.
He leaned down and kissed her shoulder. “Take your shower, I’ll set dinner up.”
“We can eat on the couch.”
“Perfect.” Queenie started to direct him around the kitchen before he gently cut her off. “I’m a grown man, remember? I’ll be able to find what we need.”
She turned to her room and nodded more to herself than him. “Of course you are.”
Unable to help himself, Boyd stared after her and the way her delicious curves moved in that beautiful dress, only reaching for the plates once she was out of sight. He grabbed napkins and cutlery, carrying it all to the living room and setting it on the small coffee table. Baby clothes and craft supplies littered the loveseat and spilled out of an open wooden chest that sat next to a sewing machine. Boyd’s stomach twisted. Were children part of her future planning?
Queenie appeared as he was filling two glasses with water from a pitcher in the fridge, dressed in a hoodie and baggy, floral shorts. “I have some shorts that might fit you if you want to take a shower too,” she said, holding them out to him. “It won’t take long for me to wash your clothes.”
“If you’d like to see me shirtless, all you have to do is ask,” he quipped.
Queenie’s cheeks turned a bright pink, and she shuffled on her feet. “I tried to find a shirt too, but you might rip mine apart trying to get into them.”
