I was sure the people on the news were wrong when they said it would go up to seventy degrees the day after Craig’s funeral—the morning of the service had been just shy of cold, and it had only been a few days since we had a light snowfall. Yet when I first stepped outside into the almost balmy morning air, it looked like they were right for once.

I stopped by Mom’s first thing, to make sure she had breakfast. There were empty containers in the trash—soup and tuna cans, a spaghetti sauce jar, coffee grounds. So she was eating. I fixed eggs and toast, home fries, coffee. Then I offered to come over and fix a more substantial dinner than soup and tuna sandwiches. She tried to act like she didn’t care either way, but I knew it made her happy to feel taken care of. After years of being ignored by her husband, she needed to feel important to somebody. Craig had made her feel important, so she’d flourished. The woman I left that morning was a complete one-eighty from the one I first saw when I got to town. She even went outside to clean up old weeds in the front garden as I climbed into my car.

I rolled down the window and let the breeze flow through my hair. It seemed disloyal to feel so positive and relaxed the day after a funeral, but I couldn’t deny feeling better than I had in a long time. Just driving down familiar streets with the breeze blowing and a good song playing on the radio was a simple pleasure I hadn’t experienced in a long time. It wasn’t until I started taking deep breaths that I realized how uptight I normally was.

Maybe it was the almost spring-like air or the positive vibes I was feeling. Either way, I got an idea.

It seemed like old times when I drove to the diner with a packed picnic basket in the back seat. Just like we used to do back in the day, the two of us looking for a place where we could be alone. A picnic by the lake was always the perfect excuse to escape for a little one-on-one time. That way, Dawson’s mom wouldn’t ask too many questions. My mom never did. She would’ve had to pay attention, which she wasn’t capable of doing back then.

It was just shy of noon when I pulled into the lot and dashed up the stairs of the chrome-lined building. There were only a few tables full of early lunch patrons, and I waved to the people I recognized. We had just seen each other a day earlier, after all. Funny how life went on after something like that. People went back to their lives and their jobs and their families.

Debbie smiled when she turned and saw me standing there. “Do you ever take a day off?” I asked with a grin.

“I made a deal with the boss. He takes a day off; I take a day off.” She leaned on the counter and winked one heavily made-up eye. “So far, he hasn’t taken one.”

“I’m not surprised. Go all-out or don’t go at all.” I sat on a stool and folded my hands in front of me like a schoolkid. “I have a favor to ask you. I want to get him out of here for a little while this afternoon.”

Her eyes lit up. “I think that’s a great idea. He needs a break.”

“I agree.”

“Especially after yesterday,” she added with a sad little smile. “I kept telling him he didn’t have to do as much as he did—he should’ve been able to sit around and talk like everybody else—but he wouldn’t listen.”

“He’s so stubborn,” I muttered, shaking my head.

“Sure is, but I think throwing himself into work helps him. Some people are just like that. Remember, I was here when he first came back after being overseas. Terrible stuff. He wasn’t the kid I used to know. You might not even have recognized him back then. He was different. Like an old man in a young man’s body. I never did ask him what happened over there, because he obviously didn’t wanna talk about it, but it had to be pretty bad. So what’s he do? He takes Ken up on the job offer and throws himself into learning all about the restaurant business.”

I nodded. “He told me a little bit about that.”

“I’ve never seen a person work has hard as he did. He’d work every day, all day. Sometimes he’d sleep in one of the booths instead of going home because he would only end up coming back in a few hours to open for breakfast. It was his way of coping.” She shrugged as if she hadn’t thought it all through and wasn’t completely sure of herself. Like she wasn’t just as shrewd a judge of character as anybody. She had been waiting tables for decades in the same little town that had one diner and a small handful of restaurants to its name. She knew things.

“All the more reason for me to sneak him away for a little while today,” I decided. “I have a picnic lunch in the car, and it’s a beautiful day.”

“That’s all I need to hear.” She went to the kitchen, where Dawson had been since I got there, and pulled him out by one arm. She was half his size—it was ridiculous, watching her drag him around—and he smiled when he caught sight of me.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to drop by when I felt like it.”

“You know what I mean. You hungry?” He had a menu in hand before he even finished the question.

“Yes, but not for anything here.” I jerked a thumb in the direction of my car. “I have food in there. All I need is you.”

He frowned. “You know how busy it is here. Lunch is coming up.”

Debbie clicked her tongue. I grinned when I saw that she was already holding his jacket. “And you know we can handle a single lunch shift without you. Come on, now. You deserve an hour or two off, for heaven’s sake.”

“Last time I checked, I’m the one running this place.” He took his jacket with a scowl.

“Last time I checked, I’ve been working here longer than you, and that gives me seniority, young man.” She put her hands on her hips and stuck her chest out. “And I say you should go out and get some fresh air and enjoy your lunch. We’ll be here when you get back.”

He looked at her, then at me. “I’m outnumbered.”

“Damn right.” She put her hands on his back and shoved.

Moments later, we were in Dawson’s truck. His only condition was that he drive, so I pulled the basket and blankets from my car and left them in the bed of the truck before we left.

“What did you have in mind for our lunch?” he asked. Out of the diner and on our own, his attitude seemed to have softened. Every breath of fresh air he took through the open driver’s side window seemed to relax him a little more.

“I thought we could go to the lake.” I watched him closely to get a feel for his reaction.

He smiled a little. “Yeah. That would be great. It’s been a long time.”

“Oh, come on.” I swatted his knee. “Don’t tell me you haven’t ever taken another girl to the lake.”

He shook his head. “No other girl. No. Not ever.”

“Not ever ever, or not ever at the lake?”

He shot me a look out of the corner of his eye. “Not ever at the lake. I wouldn’t take anybody else to the lake. But no, I haven’t been saving myself all this time, if that’s what you’re asking.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I was just checking.”

“You were just fishing for information.”

“Potato, po-tah-to.” I shrugged it off, still laughing. Of course, he didn’t save himself. A man like him? He probably had women crawling over him on the daily. I could just imagine them coming in to see him, touching his arm or his hand as he passed out menus and food. He could have his pick without even trying.

That was none of my business. I had to live in the moment and enjoy the fact that the love of my life was driving us to the lake for a picnic.

Considering that he hadn’t been there in so long, he knew the way. He turned down an unmarked road and drove into the woods along the edge of town until we got to the clearing. My heart swelled when I got a look at what I had been away from for so long.

“Wow,” I breathed as I climbed out of the truck. It was like stepping back in time. The water was just as clear, the sky just as blue. It was funny seeing so few leaves on the trees when it was so balmy out, and the leaves that still clung to their branches were every shade of red and orange and gold. There were mountains in the distance, and the trees out there were just as colorful. It could’ve been painted on a canvas; it was so perfect.

I breathed deep, taking in the fresh air. “I’ve missed this place,” I confessed. “I didn’t even know I did, but I did.”

“Funny how that works,” he said as he pulled the basket from the back of the truck. I spread blankets out for us and unpacked our sandwiches, iced tea, and cupcakes.

He laughed when he saw them. “Cupcakes?”

“They’re easy to transport,” I retorted. “Sorry if I didn’t feel like packing an entire cake, or wrapped-up slices.”

“No, no, this is nice.” And it was. We could be ourselves—no funeral, no house to finish getting ready, nothing. Just us. The years seemed to melt away when it was just us.

I stretched out on my back, propped on my elbows and watched the still water. Bubbles would break on the surface every so often, revealing the fish underneath. “Still good fishing out here?” I asked.

“Oh, sure. Lots of guys come out here every weekend and most weekday mornings.” He polished off a second cupcake after eating a sandwich and a half—I was glad I brought extra—then chugged back some iced tea. “I have to admit; it’s nice not to rush through lunch for once. I’m usually left picking at my food in between doing things for customers.”

“See? This was a good idea. It’s what you needed.” I smiled over at him, but he wasn’t smiling. He looked very serious. “What’s the matter?”

“I was wondering what you need.” It wasn’t an innocent statement. I heard more in his voice, saw more in his eyes. And all the past memories came flooding back. My body started to respond before he even closed the gap between us and stretched out on his side, just next to me.

“What do you think I need?” I murmured. We were just inches apart. His hand rested on my belly, and I reached for him and ran a finger down the side of his face. He turned his head slightly to catch my fingertip in his mouth. He kissed it, then sucked gently. I bit down on my lower lip to hold back a sigh.

He kissed my palm next, then the inside of my wrist. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as his tongue darted over the sensitive spot. I wasted no time wrapping my arm around his neck and pulling him down with me until we were side-by-side, facing each other.

His mouth was warm, firm, electrifying. I swept my tongue over his lower lip, and he groaned deep in the back of his throat. I held him tighter and crushed my mouth against his as his hand cupped my breast and the passion swelled.

“Is this a good idea?” I whispered breathlessly, even as my back arched to meet his touch and my nipples tightened.

He slid his hand under my shirt and ran his tongue over my earlobe. “What do you think?” he whispered. He bit down, and I gasped as heat raced through me.

“You know what I mean.” It was one thing for a pair of teenagers to fool around at the lake, but for full-grown adults, it seemed a little too risky.

“There’s nobody here, and I’m aching for you.” He took my hand and placed it over the obvious bulge in his jeans. I groaned at the feel of it, imagining what he would do to me. “You know you want this.”

“I do,” I gasped when he sucked on my neck. I wanted all of it, as much as he could give me for as long as he would give it. The sweetness and heat, the feeling of him overtaking me and leaving no choice but to give in to sheer abandon. I squeezed gently and listened to him groan against my skin. His breath was hot, just like his tongue. I closed my eyes and decided I didn’t care.

The air was still just a little cool on my legs as I helped him get my jeans off, and I shivered. It wasn’t summer, after all. He noticed and looked around. “Here. Get up.” I did, and he pulled one of the two blankets off the ground. He used it to cover himself while he pulled his jeans to his ankles—I giggled at how naughty it all was, and how frantic he was to be with me. He managed to get a condom out and on before pulling me into his lap. I wrapped the blanket around us as I settled onto him, while he pulled my panties to the side to accommodate his straining length.

“Oh, yes.” I leaned against him as I lowered my body onto his. It was a tight fit, it always had been, and it felt so right. He gripped my butt and moved me up and down on him, while I ground my hips in circles to rub my clit against him. My arms tightened around his shoulders.

I held the blanket closed as we rocked together, building slowly, taking our time even though we were out in the open. Under the blanket, he pulled up my shirt and bra so his hands could move freely over me. I gasped at the feeling of his stroking caress, teasing and playing even as I rocked faster, grinding harder and more desperately all the time.

“That’s right,” he groaned in my ear. “Take what you want. Come for me. Let go.”

“Yes!” I gasped, riding harder as the tension built. Everything in the world was concentrated in that one spot where our bodies joined. That was all that mattered. I closed my eyes and sank deeper into the sensation as a fluttering feeling started to spread through me, enclosing me, making me scream and dig my teeth into his shoulder.

“Keep going…that’s right…” He took my hips and slammed me up and down as I continued to come, tightening and pulsing around him, until his groans echoed in the still air.

I slowed, then stopped, and was able to move just enough to raise myself from his lap. He slid away, and I felt that fleeting sense of loss I always did whenever he left me. But I smiled, and he smiled, and everything was right.

* * *

The first thing I noticed when pulling into the diner parking lot was the presence of two BMWs. One was mine. I immediately recognized the other one, and recognition froze the blood in my veins.

Dawson was saying something, but I couldn’t hear him anymore. I could only hear a sort of hazy white noise in my head. No way. He wouldn’t. How could he find me?

When he climbed out of the truck and turned to see me still sitting there, Dawson asked, “What is it? You okay?”

I wished I could nod, but I shook my head, instead. “I’m so sorry.” I should’ve told him. I had so many chances to tell him. I wished I had, but it was never the right time—and it still hurt too much.

“For what?” He still didn’t understand. I struggled to find the words, but I could hardly breathe, much less speak. A hand clenched my throat, cutting off my air.

I didn’t have to speak, anyway. The diner’s door opened and out strode a tall, dark-haired man wearing a black coat and sunglasses which covered most of his thin, angular face. I hadn’t seen that face in two months. Not since the day our divorce decree was finalized. He stared at me through the windshield—I couldn’t see his eyes, but I’d be willing to bet they were cold. That was his usual state.

“Who is that?” Dawson asked.

“My ex-husband,” I breathed.