During that same week, Cara had moved into a hotel in Manhattan and begun searching for an apartment. Jason had taken Rain out on their first date; they had gone to dinner and a movie, and Jason had dropped her off very properly at Holly’s house after a passionate kiss outside the door. Since then, they had been on two other very respectable dates, since Rain was currently still living with Holly and her husband. Rain had no desire to set foot in the apartment that Cara had so recently vacated, and Jason understood. Now that they were alone at the lake, however, he was looking at her hungrily. The sexual tension between them was becoming palpable. But there was something they had to do first.
“I think this is the spot,” said Jason as he stopped rowing and let the paddles skim the water’s surface.
Rain nodded solemnly and pulled at the satin ribbon tied around the stems of the bouquet on her lap. It didn’t feel right to throw the flowers, so she lowered herself off the seat and onto the floor of the boat, balancing on her knees so she could lean over the side. Mindful of the thorns, she began gently placing the delicate white roses in the water. “Rest in peace, Brandy,” she said softly.
They watched the flowers float away in silence, and then Rain met Jason’s eyes and indicated she was ready to go. He dipped the oars back into the water as she shifted over to sit on the floor between his legs. She leaned her back against his seat and rested her cheek on his thigh.
“Rainy, you’re going to get all wet,” he pointed out as the boat started moving.
She shrugged. “I don’t care. I wanted to be touching you.”
“In that case, a little water won’t hurt you. I’ll even help you get out of those wet clothes when we get back.”
She kissed the tanned skin of his leg. “That’s so kind of you.”
“Anytime.”
A smile played over her lips as the boat cut through the water. “We should hurry,” she suggested.
“I’m not going to argue with that,” he agreed, and picked up his rhythm.
She realized she was still clutching the ribbon that had bound the dozen roses. Bending her knees, she pulled her legs in and wound the white satin around her left ankle. She tied it off with a double knot and then linked her arms around her shins. Laying her head back on Jason’s leg, she watched their makeshift memorial recede into the distance. The sun shone on the white roses, turning them into shimmering pearls that spread across the silver-green water.
As a child, Kathryn Knight kept her parents on a constant quest to find enough reading material to last her through each week.
An early fondness for books about horses later gave way to a lasting preference for both love stories and ghost stories; as a writer, she finds the paranormal romance genre is a perfect fit.
Silver Lake
is Kathryn's first novel, and she is currently working on her second one.
She lives in New England with her husband, her sons, and a number of rescued animals.
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