“But you do need protection from The Ego. You know, someone might kick your ass for that one day,” Tara mused. “I have a sinking feeling that person might be me.”

“Hmm. I’m not sure I totally dislike the idea of you kicking my ass.”

“How masochistic of you. You don’t know the power of my roundhouse kick.”

“Ooh, sexy,” he said with a shit-eating grin.

“You’re playing with fire,” she warned.

“That’s so hot.”

“Ugh. You’re just … ugh.” She threw up her hands and stared out the window to hide her smile.

Very pleased with himself, Seth drove the rest of the way humming under his breath. After a few turns, they found street parking across from the park. Tara stepped out of the car and shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand. The green of the grass and the bright primary-colored play equipment sparkled vividly beneath the spring sunshine. A contented smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

“Okay,” he said, grabbing a huge picnic basket and a blue gingham blanket from the trunk. “Let’s go pick a spot.”

“This way. I’ll take you to my favorite spot.” She led him toward a tall tree with long, outstretched branches full of leaves. The tree had been around as long as she could remember, like an old friend, strong and steadfast. “I like to come here to read sometimes. It’s quiet, and away from the main bustle of the park.”

“Nice.” Seth placed the blanket on the edge of the branch’s reach half in sunlight and half in shade. “In case you got too cold in the shade, or too hot in the sun.”

“Thank you.” Tara soaked up his considerate gesture like a cactus planted in cracked earth, enjoying its first taste of rain.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his voice warm and his smile endearing. As their gazes met and held, heat swirled in the air between them.

“That thing is huge. Did you pack a dining room table in there?” Tara broke eye contact before she melted into goo, and got on her knees to peek inside the basket. “What did you bring?”

“Nothing much. I might’ve gone overboard with the jumbo-sized basket. I’ve never packed a picnic before,” he said as he set out containers of sandwiches, brightly colored fruit salad, plates, and utensils followed by at least seven kinds of desserts.

“You call this nothing much? It looks like you’ve cleaned out Comfort Zone and a poor, unsuspecting deli. Who’s going to eat all those sandwiches?”

“No need to worry. I have a hollow leg for extra food storage, and you don’t seem to be a lightweight either. I’ve seen you tuck away plate after plate of food.”

“How rude. One does not talk about a lady’s appetite.” She held her offended expression for exactly half a second before giving into her smile. “Of course, you’re right. And those look like BLTs. I’ll be having about five of those. Thank you very much.”