“Who said anything about downtown?”

“Seriously?” Christy-Lynn tipped back her head. “You can actually see them from here?”

Wade surprised her again by taking her hand and leading her down the deck stairs. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Out there,” he said, pointing toward the lake.

“In the dark?”

Wade stepped into the canoe and held out a hand. “It’s the best way to see them. Come on. You’ll be fine.”

Christy-Lynn smothered a sigh. He was already seated, the paddle resting across his thighs. “All right, but if I end up in the drink, the markup on that manuscript of yours isn’t going to be pretty.”

He chuckled warmly in the dark. “I’ll take my chances. Just stay low like I showed you and hold on to both sides.”

Breath held, she stepped over the side and into the canoe. Climbing into a boat was tricky enough for a novice, but doing it in the dark was downright scary. Finally, she eased down onto the empty seat and was able to breathe again.

“This better be good.”

“Would I lie?”

Christy-Lynn considered the question, knowing full well it had been rhetorical. And yet somehow she knew the answer. “No,” she said quietly, wishing she could make out his face in the dark. “I don’t think you would.”

Wade said nothing as he pushed off and began to paddle, smooth, easy strokes that barely made a sound against the quiet. Eventually Christy-Lynn felt herself relax. She let go of the sides, gazing up into the indigo sky as they glided soundlessly over the water.

“Okay,” she said grudgingly. “This is nice.”

“My grandfather and I used to come out here every year for the fireworks and for the Perseid meteor shower. There’s less ambient light so everything looks brighter.”

“Sounds like you and your grandfather made a lot of great memories.”

Wade stopped paddling, letting the canoe drift. “We did. In fact, we built this canoe together. Took us three summers. The old man was a stickler for detail, a real perfectionist. But thirty years later, here we are, out on the lake watching another set of fireworks.”

As if on cue, the first plumes of color erupted overhead, illuminating the night sky with a burst of red-and-white fire. Seconds later, a boom punctured the quiet, the percussion palpable in the heavy night air. Christy-Lynn’s breath caught, then caught again as a single missile arced into the darkness, followed by a profusion of pink, white, and gold that echoed like diamonds in the lake’s mirrorlike skin.

She wanted to tell him he was right, that she’d never seen anything so wonderful, but there wasn’t time. One after another the volleys continued, each explosion bigger and brighter than the last. She barely noticed when Wade’s hand closed over hers, her eyes locked on the sky, reveling in the hypnotic pulses of color and sound, flecks of gold and silver tumbling down around them like falling stars.

Finally, she snuck a glance at Wade, surprised to find his attention on her rather than the sky. “You’re not watching the fireworks.”

“It’s okay. I can see them in your eyes.”

The words threw her off balance, smoky and warm, the way she imagined a shot of whiskey might feel as it snaked its way into the bloodstream. Her pulse ticked up as his fingers twined with hers and the sky continued to explode overhead. And then he was pulling her toward him. Something fluttered in her belly, like a pair of soft wings lifting off. He was going to kiss her, and she was going to let him. Because suddenly she wanted him to very badly.

His mouth opened against hers with maddening slowness, a velvety assault on her long-starved senses. She stiffened briefly as his arms came around her, startled by her body’s sharp and visceral response. She had nearly forgotten this part—the urgent mingling of breaths, the blending of bodies, the languid, bone-deep sense of surrender. How easy it would be to let this—whatever this was—happen, to sweep caution aside and yield to this startling new ache. It was a heady thought. And a dangerous one.

She pulled back abruptly, causing the canoe to skitter. “We can’t,” she blurted. “I can’t.”

“I thought—”

Christy-Lynn’s fingers felt bloodless as she gripped the sides of the canoe, thankful for the darkness. “I know what you thought. I must have thought it too. But I’m not . . . I can’t.”

“Did I read it wrong?”

“No. I did.”

“You felt it too, then?”

Yes, she’d felt it. And for a moment, she’d nearly let it consume her. She glanced at the sky, empty now but for a scatter of stars. The fireworks had ended, and the quiet felt unsettling, as if all of a sudden there was nowhere to hide. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t . . . thinking.”

“Apparently, neither was I. I don’t want to be the guy who makes a move on a friend when she’s vulnerable.”

His words brought her up short. “You think I’m vulnerable?”

Even in the dark, she could sense his astonishment. “You don’t?”

Vulnerable. It wasn’t a word she liked the sound of. It was a weak word. A needy word. And she didn’t want to need anyone. But now there was Wade. Strong, kind, and more than willing to be a shoulder in her time of need. How had she not seen it coming? She had gotten caught up in the moment, foolishly opening a door she wasn’t remotely ready to walk through. And had nearly ruined a friendship in the bargain.