They flipped the canoe and slid it into the lake. She grabbed one of the paddles without waiting for an invitation and stepped in. She hoped he’d stalk off, but he picked up the other paddle and climbed in, the motion so graceful the canoe barely moved.

For the next hour, they glided through the water, steering clear of the water hyacinths that choked the swampier areas. As they paddled from one hidden bayou to the next, through eerie cypress forests draped with Spanish moss, he barely spoke. She glanced back at him. The play of his muscles stretched his white T-shirt over his chest as he paddled, highlighting the message written in black letters. The shirt wasn’t one of his recent purchases but something that must have been stashed in the bike’s saddlebags when he’d left Wynette. If only it had stayed there. “Those awful bumper stickers are bad enough,” she said, “but at least a person has to be close to your bike to see them.”

He watched an alligator lolling in a patch of sunlight on the far bank. “I told you about the bumper stickers.”

She turned around in her seat, resting the paddle on her knees and letting him steer. “You said the bike’s previous owner put them on. So why didn’t you let me peel them off?”

He shifted his paddle to the other side. “Because I like them.”

She frowned at the message on his T-shirt: IT ONLY SEEMS KINKY THE FIRST TIME.

“It was a gift,” he said.

“From Satan?”

Something that looked almost like a smile flickered across his face and then disappeared. “You don’t like it, you know what you can do about it.” He cleared another snarl of water hyacinths.

“What if a child saw that shirt?”

“Seen any kids today?” He shifted his weight slightly on the seat. “You’re making me sorry I lost my favorite one.”

She turned back to the bow. “I don’t want to hear.”

“It says, ‘I’m all for gay marriage as long as both bitches are hot.’”

Her temper sparked, and the canoe wobbled as she twisted back around. “Political correctness is obviously a big joke to you, but it isn’t to me. Call me old-fashioned, but I think there’s value in honoring the dignity of everyone.”

He pulled his paddle out of the murky water. “Damn, I wish I’d brought the one I got a coupla weeks ago.”

“A terrible loss, I’m sure.”

“Want to know what it said?”

“No.”

“It said …”—he leaned toward her and spoke in a slow whisper that carried over the water—“‘If I’d shot you when I wanted to, I’d be out by now.’”

So much for conversation.