Putting on some sandals, I went back to the living room where Blane was waiting. He got to his feet, not seeming to mind that I was in a pair of white shorts and a black T-shirt.

“I’ll drive,” he said.

I followed him out the door, locking it behind me. I jogged down the steps after him, then stopped short in surprise.

“Oh my God! You got a new car!”

Blane had slid his sunglasses on and he grinned at me. “What do you think?”

It was another Jaguar, but brand-spanking-new and just . . . wow. Silver metallic, it was a four-door, sleek, and gorgeous.

“It’s amazing!” I enthused.

“Wanna drive it?”

My jaw dropped and I stared at him. “Are you kidding me?”

Blane tossed me the keys. “Let’s take her for a spin.”

I squealed with delight, hurrying to the driver’s side as Blane slid into the passenger seat. He tossed his jacket in the back and I noticed the Glock wedged firmly in its holster at his side.

The engine turned over with a purr and I adjusted the seat for my considerably shorter legs. I took a deep breath, glancing at Blane. He was smiling and so was I. I looked up and was shocked again. The entire roof was made of tinted glass.

“Wow . . .” I breathed.

“Let’s go,” Blane urged.

I tore my gaze away from the roof and carefully backed the car up. I was almost too nervous to drive. Almost. With a gleeful laugh, we tore out of the lot.

Blane told me where to drive and I barely paid attention where we were heading, being too wrapped up in how amazing an experience it was to drive a car like this.

We were soon on an open country road, and Blane said, “Open her up.”

I glanced over. “I can’t do that! What if I get a ticket?”

Blane lowered his glasses, peering at me over the tops. His grin was wicked. “I know a great lawyer.”

I laughed and gave in to the urge to go just a little faster. Okay, maybe a little more—it was just so easy and the car seemed to grip the road as it ate up the miles.

Finally, Blane directed me onto an exit and had me pull into what looked to be a park. It was nice, with huge shade trees and manicured grass. Since it was the middle of the week, no one was there at this time of day.

“I don’t know what kind of hoity-toity restaurants they have in this itty-bitty town,” I teased. “You may have to settle for a fast food cheeseburger for lunch.”

Blane got out and so did I. “No, I won’t,” he said, popping open the trunk. “Surprise.”

Curious, I stepped toward the trunk to see what was inside. Oh God.

There was a picnic basket and a blanket.

“I thought we could have a picnic,” Blane said.

I swallowed. The last picnic I’d been on had been with Kade, and we’d—

“Um, yeah, sure,” I said brightly, cutting off that thought.

Blane frowned. “Is that okay? Because if it’s not, we can—”

“No, no, it’s fine,” I interrupted. “A picnic sounds great.” So what if it made me feel like I was cheating on Kade? I wasn’t. He and I weren’t together. I was his go-to booty-call girl and yes, he loved me and I loved him, but you couldn’t build a life together out of a booty-call relationship.

I grabbed the blanket while Blane took out the picnic basket, then followed him into the park. Finding just the perfect spot took a few minutes, and I hid a smile as Blane dismissed certain areas for “not enough shade” or being “too rocky.” Finally, he designated the spot.

“You’re sure?” I teased. “Before we spread the blanket and everything, because if you’re not sure, we can keep looking.”

“Smartass,” he retorted, setting the basket down and taking the blanket from me. A few quick snaps of his hands, and the fabric floated perfectly to the ground.

I slipped off my shoes before settling down, then waited as Blane sat down, too. He looked a bit incongruous, sitting on a blanket under a tree with a shirt and tie on. I watched as he dug into the basket, producing two bottles of water and sandwiches.

“Where’d you get this stuff?” I asked, taking a chicken salad sandwich from him.

“Mona made it,” he said, unearthing more food.

I’d skipped breakfast after the puking incident, so was starving now. Mona’s cooking was good incentive and I ate the sandwich embarrassingly fast. She’d also packed strawberries and I eyed Blane as I ate those more slowly.

“Blane, when was the last time you went on a picnic?” He just didn’t seem like the picnic kind of guy. He’d finished his sandwich, too, and was now resting back on his elbows, his long legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed.

His smile was a bit sheepish. “Years, I’m sure. I’ve probably not willingly sat on the ground to eat since I was deployed.”

“So why now?” I asked. “Why today?”

“I thought you’d like it,” he said. “And I wanted to see you.”

I gave an inward sigh and lay down on my back, looking up at the puffy clouds drifting across the sky.

“Is that wrong? Am I not supposed to want to see you?” A defensive note had crept into Blane’s questions.

“Of course not,” I said. “I want to see you, too.” Which was true. If I could just get Kade out of my head, maybe the feelings I had for him would go away and I could feel what I should feel—what I used to feel—for Blane.

It was quiet for a few minutes, each of us seeming lost in our own thoughts. The breeze rustled the leaves on the trees. I could so take a nap right there. My eyes had just drifted closed when Blane spoke.

“I’ve decided to pull out of the governor’s race.”

My eyes shot open and I twisted so I could see him. “What?” Surely I’d misheard.

“I’m dropping out,” Blane repeated, discarding his sunglasses.

“But . . . but why?” I stammered, stunned. “You’ve been working for this for years. Why would you drop out?”

“I told you before that I wasn’t sure I wanted it anymore,” he said. “Kade getting hurt, losing you. It just showed me how badly I’d prioritized the things in my life, people in my life.” He paused. “Plus I want to break from my uncle. He has a lot to answer for.”

I couldn’t disagree. Keaston and his interference had nearly cost both Kade and me our lives.

“So what are you going to do?” I asked.

“In my career or about my uncle?”

“Both.”

“I’ll keep practicing for now. I might run for office again someday, maybe. It’s all well and good to have ambitions and success, it just took me a while to realize that they don’t mean anything if I don’t have someone to share it with.” His eyes were on mine as he said this, and I had to glance away.

“And your uncle?” I asked, not wanting to address the implication in his words.

Blane sat up, bending one leg to hook an elbow over his knee. He stared into the distance. “When I think about what he did, how Kade could’ve died. How I might not have gotten to you in time, nearly didn’t. I want to kill him.” He gave a bark of bitter laughter. “My own uncle. I’ve idolized him since I was a boy. To find out that he betrayed me, hurt me, all for his aspirations for my career . . .” He shook his head as though he still had trouble wrapping his mind around it.

The nearly palpable anger and pain emanating from Blane struck a sympathetic chord in me. I reached over, grasping his hand that rested on the blanket between us. He lifted his head and his eyes were a brilliant green as they searched mine.

“I’m sorry, Kat,” he said. “You tried to tell me, and I didn’t listen. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for everything that’s happened to you . . . because of me.” His lips twisted in a parody of a smile. “Ironic, isn’t it? I turned out to be the worst thing that ever happened to you.”

“Don’t say that!” I sat up, quickly moving to kneel beside him. “That’s not true,” I said.

Blane shook his head slightly, glancing away, and I knew he didn’t believe me.

I cupped his cheek in my hand, forcing him to look at me. “That’s not true,” I repeated. “I wouldn’t trade the time we had together for anything. If I knew then what I know now, I’d still have gotten in your car that night.” And I meant it.