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“This our pimped-out ride?”

“Pimped-out ride.Is that what we’re going with?”

“I call dibs,” she said, ducking in through the tent flap and sprawling on her back inside. The sight made my chest feel tight—Paisley looking like this spread out all casual-cool looking up at me with that playful look in her eyes, waiting for me to climbinto a small, private space with her. I swallowed. Why had I thought this was the thing to suggest? Especially after we’d had sex on a boat the other time, something about being out on the water with her again…

“Pais,” I sighed, forcing myself to look away. “Do you think maybe we should put it on the water before we get in?”

“You can move it with me in it.”

I scowled. “What do I look like, your assistant?”

The worst look I’d ever seen flared over her eyes. “Someone who knows how to follow directions,” she said, her voice low, and I—my throat felt suddenly tighter, and I felt myself blush, hard. Dammit. I knelt and zipped up the tent flap, if only so Paisley wouldn’t see how red I was.

“I’m going to push you as hard as I can,” I said. “Better hold on tight to that tea.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said lightly. Dammit. I didn’t know why this woman always won with me.

I dragged the thing along the sand, and I felt Paisley’s weight inside lurch as she shifted, laughing and squealing as it moved. It wasn’t as hard to move with her in it as I’d expected—it glided down the sand and into the water, far enough it was just about to push away from the sand and start floating, and I went around to the front, where Paisley had unzipped the flap and didn’t give me the chance to say anything—she grabbed me by the hand and pulled me into the camper with her, tugging me so I fell inside with a grunt, the whole thing lurching as I did, the momentum pushing us away from the sand and drifting out onto the water.

“See?” she laughed. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The camper lurched and drifted, feeling like it would pitch and flip and drown us, and I fumbled around trying to balance the thing while Paisley just laid back relaxed in the center, her head and shoulders propped up against the back, looking at mewith a big smile, clearly enjoying my struggle until we’d spun a full revolution and it became clear I wasn’t going to capsize the thing by leaning on the side. I relaxed, sitting up straighter, trying to look cool like I hadn’t just flopped around the place like a fish on land, and I zipped the camper shut before I punched the straw into my tea, settling in with a long, slow sigh.

“Would have been a lot easier if we’d done it the normal way, but that wouldn’t have been very Paisley of us, now, would it?”

She gave me a playful shove. “Just admit you don’t like fun, Harps. Good lord.”

“Your idea offunis breeding lizards.”

“It was a one-off thing! Jeez. Nobody gives a girl a break.” She relaxed, looking out the small plastic strip with the view of the water—the rocky stone faces at the end of the sandbar and the outlines of Bayview’s colorful roofs past it, and then as we drifted in the other direction, the open ocean. It was a beautiful day today, but it was a weekday morning, so it was quiet right now, a small yacht some distance away and a couple strolling the beach looking like toy figures in the distance, and just the two of us in the perfect serenity of the moment.

Well, maybe Paisley was serene. My heart was pounding.

“We should—” Paisley started, at the same time that I said, “I meant—” and we both stopped, looking at each other.

“You go,” she said.

“You go.”

She lit up. “Okay, great, I totally wanted to go. We should take a picture.”

“A what?”

“Oh my god, Harps. Photography! An art form developed from the invention of the camera!”

“Yeah, I know, but—but what do you—”

“For the frame, you dork. Remember? We’re going to put in it the memory of the thing you enjoyed the best from our bucket journey. So we should be taking pictures of all of them.”

“Oh, right…” I relaxed. “A picture of what? The camper?”

“What?” She scowled. “No way you’re not getting a picture with me and you. I dressed up just for you, so you’re getting a picture of me looking like a weirdo in my goofy outfit, now deal with it.”

Something lurched in my chest, because apparently I was that simple, and all I needed was to hear Paisley say she’d dressed upjust for meand I was gone. She really did look… well…

“Fine,” I mumbled. “We’ll take a picture.”

She pressed herself up against me, her cheek pressing against mine, and it almost gave me a heart attack. “You’re thebest. I love you.”