She climbed down out of the truck, then took a minute to adjust the flowy, floral print dress she had on. Thank you also, Hannah. It had bunched up around the waist and the belt had gone a little sideways. “The things we do for love,” she muttered as she got it all straightened out. How did people wear these things day in and day out?
She went around to the passenger side, grabbed the big covered basket and towel from the seat, along with her cowboy hat and the other item she’d borrowed, then tucked her keys under the mat and headed to the dock.
It took a bit of finagling to get everything in the boat, as well as herself. She was never more thankful that she was alone and the park was otherwise closed, because she was fairly certain she’d flashed most of the wildlife in the area several times going up and down the little ladder, trying to keep her skirts from blowing up while simultaneously not flipping the boat over. Perhaps cowboy boots had also been a poor choice of footwear.
She sat on the bench seat until the boat stopped rocking, then organized the oars while silently wishing part of the exploring she and Wyatt had done included boating. It was on the list, but they hadn’t gotten that far, yet.
“But how hard can it be?” After a few attempts to sync the motions of the left and right oar resulted in a lot of water slapping and not a little splashing, she finally got the hang of it and headed out to the middle of the lake.
The sky was blue, the sun just the right amount of warm, and the usual breeze off the lake surprisingly nonexistent. The water looked like glass and reflected the mountains, clouds, and sky. Satisfied, she pulled her cell phone out and sent a text, then stored it away without waiting for a response. She made sure she was well out in the middle of the lake . . . then she purposely let the oars slip from their locks and float away on the glassy surface.
“Now, that is love. And trust,” she said; then she picked up the borrowed item, and opened the umbrella she’d borrowed from Vivi, giving the fringe a little shimmy as she settled in to wait.
* * *
Wyatt’s cheeks hurt from grinning all the way to the lake. His smile only slipped when he pulled in and didn’t immediately see Chey’s truck anywhere in the lot. Then he spied the ramp road open and went from grinning to singing. One of Pippa’s tunes he couldn’t get out of his head. And didn’t want to.
He saw the boat well out in the lake when he made it to the dock, and if he hadn’t already decided to ask her to marry him, seeing her out there in a dress, with Vivi’s crazy umbrella, sealed the deal. He quickly stripped off his shirt, and this time, his pants, and made a clean dive into the water.
Chey was twirling the parasol when he popped up next to the boat. “You seem to have lost your oars,” he said, as he tossed his wet hair back from his face.
“Why I declare, it was so clumsy of me,” she replied in a terrible southern accent. “They were so big and heavy, I could barely manage. What with my little parasol and all.” She twirled it again, a little snicker escaping despite her best efforts to look fragile and stranded.
He swam out and retrieved the oars, then swam back and stored them the same way he had with Vivi.
“Hold on to the bench,” he told her, then as gently as he could, gripped one side and levered himself into the boat.
“Why sir!” she said. “Why, I thought you would tow me to shore. I believe you’ve gotten water all over my dress.”
He sat on the bench seat opposite hers. “Well, I hate for you to be all damp. I believe I mentioned before that I’d be happy to help you out of your dresses. Anytime.” He slid the oars in the locks and accepted the towel from her.
“What a kind and gentlemanly offer,” she said dryly. “But I fear I burn easily. So, I’m just going to sit here and enjoy you in those snug boxer briefs. And all that delicious tan.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Why, I believe you’re flirting with me, ma’am,” he said, taking a turn with the drawl.
“You wouldn’t be wrong,” she said, then laughed. She opened the big basket stowed in the back and took out a pair of his shorts and a shirt and handed them to him. “I can’t be held responsible for what I might do, so you’d better cover up.”
“I’ve heard about women like you. Impulsive and lacking all self-control.” He grinned. “I like it.”
She batted her eyelashes, making him laugh. “Hungry?” she asked. “I had Hattie pack us a picnic lunch.”
Wyatt thought his eyes might have rolled back in his head just a bit. He and Chey had eaten at Bo’s twice now and he was already planning some kind of homage to Hattie’s cooking in his next stream.
“I am now.”
“All that swimming,” she said. “Works up an appetite.”
He smiled, then slowly ran his gaze from her boots to her umbrella. “That’s one reason for it.”
She held the front of her dress closed with her hand, despite the fact that it was buttoned up to her neck.
He just made a growling sound and she laughed.
“Don’t even,” she told him when he shifted off his seat. “We’ll both end up in the lake.”
“I’m already wet,” he said, “and I know you can swim.”
In response she handed him the container of Hattie’s fried chicken. “Down, boy.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, then settled back on the bench and let out a long, blissful sigh after opening the lid and taking a deep breath.
She handed him a thermos of Hattie’s iced tea, a side of potato salad, biscuit, and a plastic fork; then she settled back on her seat looking suddenly a little nervous.
“You aren’t eating?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Butterflies,” she said, as if that explained it.
He paused then. “Because?”
“Well, I brought you out here today because you’re my drop-everything-and-go person. I text you, say I need you, and I know you’ll do whatever you can to get to me.”
He thought about that, then grinned and nodded. “That about sums it up, yes,” he said. “Though I do call an exception if I’m like, on a glacier or something, but the minute they can get me off, I’m on a plane, boat, helicopter, whatever it takes.”
Smiling, but still nervous, she reached in the bag and pulled out an envelope. “Well, I wanted you to know that I’m your drop-everything person, too.” She handed it to him.
He opened it and slid out a small blue paper folder made to look like an official passport, and a key. He opened the folder to see a smiling photo of her stuck inside, and grinned.
“I haven’t gotten the real thing back in the mail yet, so Avery made that.” The sweetest blush rose to her cheeks. “But I have applied. For a real one. My first passport ever. I hope you’ll help me fill it up.”
Surprised and touched beyond measure, he looked from the folder to her. “Chey—”
She lifted her hand. “I’m not done.”
He realized now why she looked nervous, and his heart filled right up. His smile softened. “Please, go on.”
“I know we each have our paths to follow,” she told him. “And there will inevitably be times when we have to be apart, maybe for longer than we’d ever choose to be. I just want you to know that when I can work it out, I want to go with you. And when you’re not traipsing the globe, I hope you’ll see that”—she nodded at the key in his other hand—“as the key to your home.” She smiled. “Though we never actually lock it. And, technically, that’s not even actually a key to the door, because I don’t think I have one.”