Becca was on the lake with the sun on her back and her best friend, Donovan Garrison beside her. That alone made it the perfect summer day. The warm sun that hung high above them just made it that much better.

“I’ll give you a thirty second head start. “Ready, set, go!”

“Wait!” Becca held her oar in front of her. “I want at least a minute head start.” Donovan had always been stronger and faster than her. With a minute lead, she had a chance at tying him in a race.

“Alright. A minute.”

Becca paddled before he started the count.

He yelled out, “Cheaters never prosper.”

She didn’t let that deter her. Instead, she dug deep and focused on what she could control: her breathing. In two, three, four. Out two three four. Becca trained her eyes on the water. It splashed enough for her to know her oar had made the right level of contact. She couldn’t afford to waste energy or momentum when she raced against Donovan. Pushing the oar to propel the kayak, she kept her eye on the prize. 

Ahead of them, trees dotted the edge of the lake. The haphazard pattern, distinct enough to mark the shoreline came into focus as she approached their destination. I might beat him this time.

The tip of Donovan’s kayak came into her field of vision. Her biceps burned, but that didn’t discourage her from pushing forward. They only had twenty feet left to go. Becca gave it all she had. The loser had to buy the winner dinner. Rather than focus on the outcome, Becca kept her eye on the finish.

When she crossed the line, she raised her oar in the air. In an unusual turn of events, Donovan was half a boat length behind her. He lost? 

“It looks like I’m buying dinner.”

Becca may have been mistaken, but if pressed, she’d have said there was a twinkle in those chocolate brown eyes of his. He was smiling like he won.

“Did you have double shots of protein in your drink today?” Donovan crawled out of his kayak onto the dock and stooped down to help Becca out of hers.

He was a gracious loser too? Becca suspected something was off but couldn’t identify it. “Are you sure you didn’t let me win?”

She never got her answer. Somewhere between mid-stand and her straightened posture, Donovan lost control of the kayak. Her arms flailed to help her catch her balance, but there was none to be found. The boat rocked side to side. And, the next thing she knew, a cold rush of water had shocked Becca senseless. Like an ice cube in a glass of water, she rose to the surface and sputtered. “You did that on purpose.”

Donovan covered his mouth with his hand to hold back the laughter. It didn’t work. Wearing a grin wider than he should have had, given the circumstances, Donovan held out his hand to pull her onto the dock. “I don’t know what happened.”

Becca splashed water at Donovan. “I can get out on my own. Fool me once shame on you. Fool me twice, and I’m one of your ex-girlfriends.”

“I’m sorry, honestly.” Donovan extended his hand further out.

“I bet you are.” Becca took his hand and pulled him into the water. He had to have expected payback.

But he hadn’t. Donovan waved his arms as though they had the power to propel him to flight. When they failed, he landed with a cannonball size splash beside her. 

She tried swimming to the dock before he rebounded from the surprise attack. This time he was faster than her, and he arrived at the steps of the dock before her. Instead of climbing up the stairs as she expected, he turned around in just enough time for her to glide into him.

Bracing herself for the collision she squinted. Donovan wrapped his arms around her. His hold softened the effect of the crashing of their two bodies. Becca relaxed in his arms. The contest was over. They were back to being friends.

The only thing preventing direct body contact was the two bulky life vest around their chests. Floating in the water face to face, they alternated between laughing and trying to catch their breath. It had been a common occurrence between them lately. They’d be in the unlikeliest circumstance and end up a little too close. When they settled, Donovan’s eyes searched hers for something. “Why haven’t you got married yet?”

He knew the answer. Donovan was the one who protected her from rebound romances after she broke up with every single one of the cheating boyfriends she had.

“Because men are a species of animals that cannot control their urge to plant their seed in the first garden that comes along.”

He flinched at her answer.

“Too bitter?” He didn’t deserve her wrath. If anything, she should be the one paying for Donovan’s gym membership. He was the one who joined her in the potato chip, chocolate milkshake binges she used to soothe her aching ego.

“Just a little.”

“Sorry about that.” It had been two years since the last boyfriend. Maybe it was the frustration from arguing with her biological clock. Unlike her friends, it wasn’t buying the I’m happy being single story. Lately, it was screaming at her to take a good look at Donovan. She was thankful for the life vest because she didn’t know if she could hold herself responsible if they had made actual body to body contact.

Out of nowhere, something rubbed up against her leg. If she hadn’t seen a video about snakes that swam she might have been okay. But, she had seen the video, and her imagination took over and decided some sort of prehistoric water snake had come to make her its next meal. Becca squirmed to get away and squealed, “Something rubbed up against me!”

Donovan’s grip around her remained firm. “Contrary to what half the women in this county would say, it wasn’t me.”

She was in heaven. Being in Donovan’s arm was perfect and wrong. They were best friends. “I know it wasn’t you, silly. It was around my knee.”

With the joke, the moment passed, and Donovan loosened his grip and guided her to the ladder. For a minute there, she thought he was going to kiss her; and if she were honest with herself, she wouldn’t have minded.

By the time they loaded the boats into the bed of his pickup, Becca had talked herself down. Their friendship was far more important than a brief fling. The we’re just friends talks she’d been having with herself were happening more frequently and were beginning to disturb her. Perhaps it was time to create a little distance between Donovan and herself. It wouldn’t be for a long period of time; maybe just enough time for her to get to a place where she would relearn perspective when she was around him.

––––––––

SHE WAS CONSIDERED a “townie” and Donovan, who lived in the house his father built on his family farm, was a “farm boy.” When they were younger, the geography made it hard to nurture their friendship. They depended on family or friends to drive them to each other’s houses.

Even then their fathers’ vigilance set the tone of their relationship. Becca thought she was going to die every time her father said, “Leave room for Jesus and the disciples to sit between the two of you.”

Granted, it wasn’t as bad as the time when Donovan’s grandfather invited her to help one calving season. With his hand elbow deep in a cow’s nether regions, he said, “This is what birthing is like.”

Here they were well into their adulthood, and Becca found herself still respecting the edict handed to them over thirty years ago. She sighed at what never was, and what she wished could happen and let the idea float away.

In the close quarters of the pickup, Donovan grew quiet. Quieter than usual. Perhaps losing bothered him more than she realized. As though he felt her gaze upon him, he turned to meet her focus. Having nothing to say, Becca quickly returned her attention to admire the landscape.

No two days were the same where they lived. One day the road from the lake to the sleepy town of Three Creeks was brown with dry grass; and the next, an array of sweet clover had blossomed and covered the landscape with a golden flowered carpet. She loved when the flowers bloomed. It meant a season had passed and a nicer one was approaching.

Donovan’s silence lasted until he guided the pickup into a parking space. He shifted the gear into park but left the engine running. “I was wondering.”

Becca blinked away the beginnings of her recurring daydream. The one where she and Donovan were more than friends. “About?”

He hesitated. “It can wait.” He pulled the keys out of the ignition and moved to open the door.

“No, tell me,” Becca pressed. When he didn’t say anything, she added, “Please.”

“Do you think you’d be up for a game of golf tomorrow? I know it’s short notice. But, if you don’t have anything better to do. I’d love to spend more time with you.”

The only thing she had planned was washing a load of laundry. Golf with Donovan or laundry? It wasn’t that difficult to decide. “Do you want us to meet somewhere or drive separate vehicles?” If she drove her own car, she could stop at the grocery store on her way home. If she rode with Donovan she’d use the leftovers from wherever they ate afterwards for lunch.

“I’ll come by the house and pick you up. I don’t want you leaving in the middle if I get too far ahead.”

“Sure. I’ll buy lunch,” Becca offered.

The smile from earlier returned. If Becca didn’t know any better, she’d have sworn Donovan had read her intention. Maybe she’d start the plan of spending less time with him on Monday when they went back to work.

She made a mental note to pop in the cooperative extension office down the hall from the office where she worked. They kept a list of activities around the community. She only needed one or two of them to keep her mind occupied on a topic of something other than Donovan. 

When Donovan opened the door to the Keane’s pub, Becca felt her mood change. Her troubles remained out on the sidewalk. If she was lucky, they’d be gone by the time she finished dinner. Inside the door was a world where Becca called most of the people who passed through the door a friend. Even if they didn’t talk on a day to day basis, or know the person passing by their table, everyone smiled a greeting. 

They had been going to Keane’s ever since the doors opened when they were in their early twenties. For weeks that seemed like they would never end, Donovan, Keane, and their best friend Kent worked on making Keane’s teenage dream a reality.

The three friends transformed the floor level of what used to be a downtown hotel into the pub. Wanting to keep the integrity of the building, Keane preserved the chandelier lighting and polished the all-wood surface until it gleamed. Built with a lighter shade of hickory wood than the flooring, the beams, ceiling, and the tables became a part of the architecture. Keane managed to create a classy environment that said, “Welcome home,” to everyone who passed through the doors.

Standing behind the taps, Keane greeted them, “You’re here earlier than usual.” His eyes assessed them as though he were looking for something.

Becca guessed that Keane had sensed the difference in Donovan as well. She offered what she hoped was the answer to the unspoken question. “I finally beat Donovan at a kayak race. So, the score is D- four hundred and fifty-one and Becca one.” She exaggerated the numbers to let them know her winning wasn’t that big of a deal. If Donovan wasn’t so distracted, he would have easily won.

Keane threw Donovan a quick glance. The only other way his thoughts would have been any clearer was if someone had written a large question mark in the middle of his forehead. She hadn’t answered his question.

“What’s going on?” Becca knew the friends had secrets between each other. For some reason, this secret had something to do with her, and she had a bad feeling about it. “Is he still mad about the surprise fortieth party I threw for him?”

“Nah, payback will come soon enough,” Donovan picked up his pint of beer. “I have two years to get you back.”

Keane rolled his eyes and went to the other end of the bar to help another patron with an order.

Becca turned to go to one of the tables set away from the bar. She and Donovan had barely sat when Kent strolled in through the door. His eyes scanned the room and stopped on Becca and Donovan. He continued his course to the table and pulled a chair over to join them. His broad smile bordered on enthusiastic. That was the second flag that something was up. Kent was never enthusiastic. His smile was still wide when he asked, “How’s it going?”

Donovan cleared his throat before answering. “Not much. We’re just stopping for a bite after kayaking.”

“Just kayaking?” Kent seemed disappointed by the answer.

“We’re golfing tomorrow.” The delivery was another hint that the men were up to something. It sounded more like an explanation than a statement.

"You can join us if you want," Becca offered. It had been a while since Kent and Donovan had played.

Kent and Donovan had a silent conversation that mirrored the one she had seen between Donovan and Keane. The feeling that they were in on something and had left her out took the fun out of the meal. It was then that it dawned on her that Donovan might have the same idea as her. He wanted to create a little distance between them and was trying to find a way to break it to her. Maybe that’s why he let her win in the kayak race. To be fair, not that it would be that hard, she’d let him win the golf game tomorrow.

––––––––

THE WEATHER WAS PERFECT for their weekend plans. Sunday afternoon was just as sunny as the day before, and Becca was not going to complain. However, her weather app predicted high winds and an inch of rain for Sunday evening.

For the time being, she and Donovan were the only people on the nine-hole golf course. However, when they left the driving range, she peeked over at the parking lot.  The increase in the number of cars in the parking lot told her they would have a course full of people soon enough.

Donovan noticed as well and pressed her to get going. Because he lost at the kayak race, Becca thought it was only fair that he was the first to tee off. He swung the club using perfect form. Of course, his drive was perfect. His fluorescent yellow ball landed on the edge of the green.

While Becca liked to golf, she wasn't as proficient at the sport as her best friend. She rehearsed her swing in her mind and set the ball on the tee. Eyeing where she wanted the ball to land, she stepped forward to position herself. If she did everything right, her ball might land in the middle of the fairway.

“You’re going to hit that tree if you don’t shift a little,” Donovan coached.

Becca turned her head to see what he was talking about and sure enough, Donovan was right. She pivoted less than an inch and swung to hit the ball. It made it to the green and landed a couple inches away from Donovan’s ball.

Pleased with the result, she smiled but refused to allow herself to get too caught up in the feeling. Golf was a long game, and the simplest of mistakes could ruin a person's score. She thanked Donovan, "You're a good coach."

He smiled, "You mean partner. I just told you what to do. You're the one who swung at the ball."

Donovan didn't gloat that he was right? Becca kept her comment to herself and walked alongside Donovan with her clubs to the green.

They parked their clubs at the far end of the green and set up to putt their balls into the hole. Donovan missed the hole with his first putt. His miss pushed at the edge of Becca's confidence. Usually, his short game was stronger than hers. If he missed, she surely was going to have a problem. To her surprise, she made it in one putt, which gave her the lead over Donovan at the first hole.

After he made the putt, Donovan went to the hole to retrieve the balls. However, instead of giving Becca her ball, he shoved it in his pocket.

“That might be my lucky ball,” she joked.

Donovan pulled his hand out of his pocket held out a small black velvet box for her to accept. “Remember the agreement we made when we graduated from college?”

Becca thought she knew what he was talking about. But she wasn’t forty yet. He couldn’t be talking about that one.

“And we made the deal that if neither of us was married when you turned forty, we’d think about getting together.”

This was going to be the part where he told her that she was off the hook. He had to be showing her the ring that he wanted to give one of his girlfriends. Light bulbs clicked in her mind. The looks at Keane's made sense. Both Keane and Kent knew that Donovan was going to let her down and they probably suspected that given the amount of time they spent together that she wouldn't take it well. 

Another light bulb clicked. That's why he suggested they forgo the cart and walk with their clubs. They had eighteen holes of golf to bring closure to the forthcoming changes between them.

It was almost as if the universe had prepared Becca for the situation. She had been planning to do things alone. While spending less time with her best friend might be difficult at first, she'd be happy for him.

Donovan opened the box to show her the ring. “I know you’re not quite forty yet. Is there any way we could move up the time line? You know to where I’m forty, and you’re thirty-eight?”

Two and two were not making four. Out of nowhere, the man who consistently drew the line of friendship to make sure they honored it was proposing? Becca threw out the first logical reason that came to her mind. “Is this some sort of a midlife crisis thing? Like the male version of your biological clock is ticking?”

“Oh. No. It's nothing like that." Donovan grinned sheepishly, "I’ll just come clean. You see, my grandfather had a trust fund for me. If I am not married before turning forty-one half the money goes to charity. It’s quite a bit of money too. Since we were close to the ages in that agreement, I thought you might want to help me out.”

Secretly she always dreamed of Donovan proposing to her. It was the agreement with him that got her to where she was now. Every time she was in a relationship that went south, in the back of her mind she knew Donovan was on the other side of things. But her mind had a more romantic image. Dinner, warm gazes over candlelight, cuddling while watching television. Let’s get married so I can make a lot of money was the farthest thing from her mind.

“If that isn’t the most romantic proposal I have ever heard,” Becca rolled her eyes.

“I know. I’m sorry. You were the first person that came to my mind in the meeting with my grandmother and her lawyer, Bill.”

Hearing that warmed her a little. But not enough to say yes.

“If I were going to spend six months with someone I’d prefer it being you. We spend so much time together anyway. It would just be under one roof.”

There was the cold glass of water to bring things back to reality. He only wanted to be married for six months. Becca cursed her fate. She thought Donovan was different. Actually, he was. The men she dated in the past acted like they were serious about her. Time proved otherwise. At least Donovan was truthful. She had to give him points for integrity. Not enough to agree with his idea, but enough to appreciate his character.

She must have made a face because Donovan added, “I mean it. I thought it would be fun. We already do everything together. This would just make it a little more exclusive.”

“Thank you for thinking of me.” Becca held back the disappointment rising within her. She knew that she wasn't as pretty as the other women Donovan dated. For as long as she'd known him, which was for all of their lives, he had spent the majority of his dating life with women who looked like they needed to eat an entire Thanksgiving dinner. Her love of food was one of the reasons why Becca was so physically active. As long as she was healthy, she allowed herself to eat whatever she wanted, which meant she had curves where Donovan's previous girlfriends lacked them.

Becca waved at the people at the tee box waiting for their turn on the course. “Don't get me wrong. I am flattered that you thought of me as a solution to your problem. But I don't think I'm what you need." She walked to the edge of the green to return her putter to the golf bag.

All of a sudden, playing golf didn't appeal to Becca. She didn't want to disappoint Donovan, but being a consolation prize did little to help her self-esteem. "I probably should get going so you can go find your future Mrs. Garrison.” She placed her club back into the bag and circled around to push it in the direction of the clubhouse. 

“I already found her.” Donovan placed himself in front of Becca and blocked her way. “Becca. Please. Don’t be like this.” He tenderly pried her hand off the clubs and pulled her off the course to the grass.

There were a thousand other places Becca wanted to be. At this point in time, she would volunteer for a root canal. Her mind scrambled for the right words to help him understand why his suggestion was the worst thing she'd ever heard. 

“I don’t want it to be anyone else but you. It’s only two years short of what we agreed. I know you’re not seeing anyone else right now. This is perfect for the both of us.”

She searched Donovan’s chocolate brown eyes for something to tell her he cared for her. All she saw was he needed her. Logic said leave. Then reality joined the conversation. They used Donovan’s pickup to get to the course.

“I bet after eighteen holes I can convince you that us being together is a good idea."

Her heart wasn't in it. Becca had eighteen holes to help him find an alternative solution. Before she had time to say it, Donovan had cupped her chin in his hand and gently tilted her face to make eye contact. Then he did the last thing Becca ever expected. He kissed her. Right there on the edge of the first hole of the golf course.

Her eyes blinked as her mind processed what had just happened. Donovan had kissed her, and she liked it. This was not good. Not good at all.

Becca heard of people who married for convenience or were in arranged marriages. Every time she felt sorry for them and wondered what were they thinking. Now she knew. It was something along the lines of “Oh Em Gee! What am I doing?”

Donovan repeated his challenge. "I bet that after eighteen holes of golf I can get you to agree to be my wife."

If he hadn’t stunned her with the kiss, she might have told him no. Not only was his idea crazy. It wouldn’t work. But his kiss muffled her logical side. The part of her that liked the kiss was curious. What could this man do to convince her to give up her independence for six months?

His interesting attempt at persuasion began immediately. At the second hole, he placed his hands on her hips and rubbed the area on her back to show her how to straighten her posture. On the fourth hole, he caressed the area between her shoulders to show her how to improve her swing. Suggestion by suggestion, her score improved. But her mind was lost.

At the fifth hole, she waved her finger in caution. "Just let me do it by myself."

"Is that defeat I hear in your voice?" His purr woke something in her gut.

"No," Becca grumbled. He had turned her body into an ally for his cause, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

"Does it bother you that I know your body better than you?" He flirted.

"Oh, for the love of Jack Nicklaus!" Becca exclaimed, "Let me hit the ball."

He grinned, "By all means. Go right ahead."

She swung, and the ball flew farther than she'd ever been able to hit it. A wind took hold of the ball and carried it beyond the hole and over the bank into the creek that ran along the edge of the green. It seemed that nature was on Donovan's side.

"I have a solution to all that pent-up energy." He handed her another ball to tee off.

"I do too." Becca barked. She added, "A five-mile run." But, she suspected it might have required a couple more miles.

A golf cart full of gray haired golfers had arrived. Donovan told them to go ahead, and he took Becca to a bench that was a short distance from the tee box. "Becca, you know that once I set my mind to something it happens. My mind is set, and my grandmother approves. I want you. I want to be the one that gets you flustered and is the one responsible for the contented smile. I want to be the first thing you see in the morning and your last thought before you fall asleep."

He almost sounded sincere. If a trust fund wasn’t involved, Becca would have believed him.  “If it doesn’t work out after six months we'll go back to being friends?” 

His touch was making her crazy. It took everything in her to stay on her logical side.

Donovan caressed her forearm and lowered his voice. “I wouldn't be lying if I said, I hope it's for the long term.”

And logic got up and admitted defeat. “We’d have a prenup. I don’t want people thinking that I’m in it for the money. Because I’m not.”

“Of course.” Donovan's lips slowly formed a smile that declared victory. “We get along so well together I bet we’ll wish we’d have done it sooner.”

The enormity of the decision pounded into Becca’s chest. How would she explain the situation to her parents if it didn’t work out? Donovan stood in front of Becca and pulled her into a hug. The warmth returned to his voice. “I promise you won’t regret this decision.”

“I didn’t say yes.”

Donovan placed his hands on each of her shoulders and looked her in the eye. His voice took on a sexy growl that made her world fall apart. Maybe if she had looked away, she’d have had a chance. But she didn’t. He leaned in to kiss her and like a moth to the flame, her reflexes followed, and their lips met. The kiss tasted like honey tinted with a hint of pepper. She’d always suspected, and the kiss confirmed her secret interpretation of Donovan Garrison. He was sweet and spicy at the same time. At the end of the kiss, Becca released a sigh and Donovan smiled. She recognized the smile. It was the smile that Donovan saved for when he won. He was right. Donovan knew her better than she thought he did.

He called out to the four players at the tee box. "She just said she'd marry me! And it only took me five holes

to get her to say it."