Watermelon Sugar's pulsing beats poured out of the radio as Simon pulled into his brother's driveway, matching the butterflies in his stomach. Harry Styles swooned about strawberries and summer feelings as Mary came into view, perched on the bench by the red front door. No skin-tight dress today, rather a casual look in deep pink capris and a baby pink t-shirt. Gone was her ramrod straight hairstyle, replaced by loose tendrils that caught the sun and captured it as they fell in soft waves over her shoulders. The butterflies tried to escape, catching in his throat. Of all her looks, this had to be his new favourite.

He swallowed and hopped out of the truck, the bouquet he'd bought for her in hand. At the sight of the flowers, a shy smile graced her lips and Simon thought his heart might burst out of his chest. Something was different about her today.

"Hi," he croaked. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "For you."

Mary took the offered blooms and buried her nose in the flowers he'd hand selected, all various shades of pink. "These are lovely. Let me put them in some water before we go?"

Inside the foyer, the house was dark and quiet. "You all alone?"

"Emily and Finn left early this morning."

After arranging the flowers in a vase, he watched her open the fridge, remove a pink container and place it in a picnic basket sitting on the grey marble countertop.

"What's that?"

With two hands, she hoisted up the basket and presented it to Simon. "Our lunch."

"Sorry?"

"I made us lunch. Well," She rolled her eyes and Simon tried not to smile at the cute look. "Technically, I bought the food, but I coordinated the items."

"Coordinated?" It was impossible to keep the skepticism out of his voice. Only Mary would coordinate something as simple as a lunch.

"Yes. I went into town and picked out items I thought you...," she blinked rapidly, "and I would like for a picnic."

"Um..." Eyes falling to the ground, he scuffed a foot on a grout line in between the gleaming white tiles, his visions of impressing Mary fading. This was supposed to be his chance to showcase the gentleman he was, prove he could be more than a quickie in the back room. A picnic would not give him that opportunity. "I made reservations for us at the Norval Mill Inn."

"Oh, I like it there. But it's such a nice day." Mary smiled brightly at him and he forgot how to breathe for a moment. "Don't you think a picnic would be better?"

How could he resist her? He resigned himself to finding other ways to show her what he was capable of. "Sounds perfect. Shall we?"

Simon held the door to the truck open as Mary climbed into the passenger seat. She settled in as he placed the container holding their food in the backseat and slid in behind the wheel. "Shall we eat down by town hall? The park there is pretty."

"I have a better idea. If you would indulge me." Delicate fingers pushed her honey hair behind her ears. "I know the perfect spot."

Simon sighed. Nothing was going his way this afternoon. He considered insisting, but he didn't want to give Mary a reason to bail. "Just tell me where to go."

"Oh, I will."

Half an hour later and as far as he was concerned, in the middle of nowhere, Mary indicated to turn down a small dirt trail. He obliged and slowly eased the truck along an unbeaten path covered with tall, leafy trees filtering out the sun and crowded with brush that scraped along the side of his vehicle. Just when he was about to ask how much longer, the pathway curved slightly to the left and he spotted sparkling water 500 meters ahead.

As he put the truck in park, Simon marvelled at the sight before him. The gently sloping hill rolling towards a sparkling blue lake reminded him of a painting by Monet he'd seen on a trip to New York. Pale pink wildflowers dotted the landscape, all hushed away from the world by the lush thicket and tall trees.

"How did you ever find this place?"

"My mother used to take me here as a child."

Simon gulped. The leading Montgomery lady had been a welcoming face when he'd first come to Bridgetown, and having recently lost his own mother, the front-row seat to her illness and eventual death all those years ago still stung. Her light and kindness lived on in Emily, but it wasn't the same. The last time he saw their mother, she came into the restaurant for dinner, looking pale and thin. He tried to entice the woman to eat, offering to make her anything she wanted. But it was to no avail. Finally, ordering the special of the day only to leave most of it still on the plate.

Mary had been different before her mother's death. Her mother kept her in check somehow, softening the harsh angles, refusing to give into her demands, bringing out the best in Mary. Afterward, Mary rebelled against those checks and balances, or maybe her father encouraged it. From what Simon could tell, she never stopped rebelling.

"It was our spot," Mary continued wistfully. "I don't think either of my sisters even remember this place."

"It's beautiful." He yearned to say something more profound, something worthy of the honour Mary was bestowing on him, but his mind wouldn't work. For the last half hour, as they drove further and further from civilization, an ire had grown in his belly thinking Mary was trying to hide their date from the world. Now the butterflies returned with the knowledge she had not only planned for today, she'd selected to share this special place with him.

"Yes, yes, it is," she sighed. "Shall we eat?"

Simon grabbed the basket with their food and followed Mary into the meadow. She stopped; her face turned toward the water. "Some things never change," she murmured.

Again, he didn't know what to say but felt the weight of the moment. With effort he resisted taking her hand in his to offer comfort. Instead, he looked for a place to set down the basket. "We don't have a blanket."

To his surprise, Mary shrugged her shoulders. "Don't need one." She slipped off her shoes, squeezed her toes between a patch of grass, sat down and looked up at him, shielding her eyes with her hands. "Nature's blanket will do."

Simon regarded the prim and proper Mary Montgomery who never let so much as a hair get out of place, stretched out on the ground looking relaxed and completely content. Something was different about today. And he liked it.

She took the basket as he joined her on the grass, opened the wicker box and pulled out a bottle. "I know you're more of a beer man, but wine seemed appropriate."

"I like wine. In fact..." Should he tell her about the winery? The purpose of the date was to talk, learn more about each other, prove to Mary he was worthy of being her equal. But launching into a boast about his company seemed too much too soon. "I've recently taken a few tours of the local wineries. They have some lovely reds."

At his words, Mary's face lit up, causing the butterflies to pound against his rib cage again. "Really? Have you ever heard of this one?" Mary turned the bottle label towards him, the familiar antler's coming into view.

"Icellars Winery. Very popular." He took the dark glass into his hands. "Oh, the Wiyana Wanda–I've been wanting to try this. Where did you find it?"

Mary's smile shone even brighter, like he'd complimented her prized possession. "Emily bought me a case for my birthday. It's one of my favourites. Let's open it as it needs some time to breathe."

A slight pop filled the air as the cork left the bottle. Mary produced two stemless glasses along with a range of plates, cutlery, and containers from the picnic basket, arranging the items between them. She pointed out each option as she opened boxes filled with colourful cut vegetables. "Peppers, cucumbers, cherry tomatoes and carrots. To go with the Peppered Salame and Prosciutto." Next came a divided dish with cubes "Brie, Gouda and Old Cheddar, plus olives, almonds and dried apricots. And of course, fresh bread."

Simon surveyed the posh bounty–a far cry from his idea of a picnic with ham sandwiches and much more inline with Mary's blue blood expectations. "The perfect charcuterie board."

"It amazed me what I found in town." Mary's eyes sparkled as she popped a cherry tomato into her mouth. He envied the vegetable. His fingers itched to trace those lovely lips, devoid of their usual pink coating. "The Cupcake Café is a treasure trove."

Hope's bakery. Of course, that was where she went in town for the food. Why had this not occurred to him? The thought of Mary and Hope talking made him pull back. What had they discussed?

Hey there. D. L. Croisette here. So, Mary and Simon like to do things a bit backward but they are starting to get to know each other. What do you think? Will this date work out?

I've mentioned the Wiyana Wanda from Icellars Winery before. But I though you might like to here this guy tell you about it. 

https://youtu.be/5-45bn3nVS4