"Heck no," he said. "There's no calling it quits now. I've got to see what this is all about."

He pulled the car off onto another country road and came to a halt. He killed the engine but kept the headlights on. 140

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When I realized where we were, I gasped softly. It was our spot. I turned to him, ready for an explanation. He shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. "I didn't know where else to go."

My insides grew warm and snuggly. Instantly, I thought of our last visit to this exact spot. I felt like we were repeating history, returning to our first kiss. It was like Luke and I were destined to repeat the scene until we got it right.

"All right," he said, turning to me. "What's in the bag?" I rolled my eyes. "I'm glad to see you too," I said, and reached forward to lug the bag onto my lap. I unzipped it and moved it back when Luke leaned over to peek inside. He glanced up and I shook my finger at him.

"To start with," I said, trying to sound dramatic, "we have this." I pulled the first item free. It was a thick red-and-whitecheckered tablecloth. In the dark, I caught a glimpse of Luke arching one eyebrow. He lifted the tablecloth out of my hand. "A blanket?" He sounded baffled.

I nodded. "Very good. Now be a doll, will you, and spread that out on the ground."

His head swiveled up to me. "On the ground? Outside?" I nodded. And he shook his head.

"You've got to be kidding me. It's freezing out there."

"Well then, you're in luck because I've got something to warm us up." I pulled out a full bottle of wine. He snatched that away from me too, peering at the label. When he saw it was the same bottle he'd pulled from my mom's kitchen drawer, I added, "Be glad I decided against the ice cream." 141

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He looked up, shaking his head. "You never cease to surprise me."

I took the blanket back and handed him a silver utensil. "I also thought to bring a corkscrew. There's no cups, though."

"So where's the food?" He smiled as he worked the corkscrew into the cork. When I pulled out the Tupperware container, his smile dropped and his jaw fell open.

"Right here," I said, grinning. "But it's not much." The plastic was fogged from the temperature difference inside the container. Luke bent down to peek inside.

"What is it?"

I popped the lid. "Cheese, apples, rolls, and...watermelon," I said proudly, showing off the ruby-red, bite-sized chunks inside. "They don't sell whole watermelons at Getty's General this time of year. But I found this much being sold with a whole fruit platter of grapes, pineapple chunks and melon balls."

"Why watermelon?" he said.

"I'm trying to re-create something," I said. I rested the bag in my lap, the last surprise still inside. "Tell me what redand-white-checkered tablecloths, wine, and watermelon remind you of."

"Um..." He frowned as he tugged harder on the corkscrew. Then he said, "Summer, I guess," just as the cork popped out. The bottle teetered and some juices dribbled down the side of his finger. He licked the droplets off. My stomach dropped as I watched his tongue lap up the excess. He glanced over at me, seeming unaware of how much I'd been gawking. "It reminds me of summertime and picnics." 142

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I reached inside the bag, wanting more than anything to impress him. "You're getting close," I said, and came up with a fistful of the fireworks I'd nabbed. I waved them back and forth like a flag. "Now what does it remind you of?" Luke took a wad of sparklers out of my hand and stared at them as if he'd never seen them before. "The Fourth of July," he said, his voice full of awe.

"Ever celebrated the Fourth in November?" He shook his head. "I think I'm about to, though." I grinned, opened my door and got out of the car. I could hear him still inside, groaning and muttering about the temperature before I shut him in. Finally he got out too, carrying the opened bottle.

It was freezing. There was a bit of a wind too, which made matters worse. I pulled the collar of my coat up over my neck and huddled deep inside. I watched Luke's silhouette as he passed the headlights. The lights caught him perfectly. He shivered and rubbed his arms.

"How'd you talk me into doing this again?" I set the tablecloth, fireworks and watermelon on the hood of his Mustang. When I looked up at him, I knew my cheeks and nose were red with cold.

"I want you to write a poem about this," I said. Luke glanced around him at the night. He rubbed his arms and a cloud of white fog exited his mouth. "About what?" I nodded toward the hood where my supplies lay strewn like an Independence Day hood ornament. "About all that."

"The Fourth of July?"

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I grinned at his bewildered tone. "That's why I planned this. I love the Fourth of July...the lights, the food, the festivities. And I want words to describe how it always makes me feel. Only...I can't write like that. Not like you can." I looked up and caught a side view of his face as he studied the tablecloth. I saw that overbite of his and my stomach dropped.

For moment, he said nothing. Then he whispered, "OK." The air rushed out of my lungs. I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath, waiting for his response. I hadn't realized his answer would be so important either, until he'd given it and I felt the relief. Suddenly, I wanted to hug him and thank him profusely. But then I caught myself.

I twisted my body away so he couldn't see my face and I reached for the cloth. I was about to lay it out on the ground in front of the headlights, but he stopped me by quietly taking the blanket from my hands. Without a word, he went out in front of the car a few feet and flipped the tablecloth up in the air. For a moment, the cloth fluttered in the cool night and wavered above him. As it began to float down, Luke stepped back and held the blanket wide. It landed perfectly, settling over gravel and dirt with such grace and style my breath caught in my chest. Luke's back was to me as he bent down to straighten a slightly wrinkled corner. His shoulders were wide and well formed. And I saw his midnight hair glistening in the headlights.

He stood slowly and I noticed his grace of movement. He was so beautiful. As a chilly gust of wind came up and stirred 144

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his hair and clothing, artistically ruffling his perfection, it seemed like he was meant to look exactly as he was. When he turned, I swallowed and held up a watermelon piece. He stared at it a moment before reaching out slowly and taking it from my fingers. My stomach curled as he lifted it to his mouth and took it between his teeth.

"Mmm," he said. "At least it still tastes sweet this time of year."

I tried my own sample bite, and while I chewed Luke led me to the tablecloth and we sat down. It was cold enough to make my teeth rattle, but they didn't because the temperature didn't bother me. In fact, a strange warmth had ignited in my stomach and was steadily working its way up my arms and down my legs. And the closer Luke settled himself next to me, the hotter it burned.

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145

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Chapter Eleven