Walt brought their luggage with them as he walked Dakota down toward the lake.

“I find it interesting that neither you nor your sister want to stay in the house with your parents over the weekend.”

He dropped their bags on the steps, and opened the door for her. “I’m shocked Brenda and Larry are staying here at all. I thought they’d just show up for the party and leave. If I came alone, I’d stay in the house.”

Dakota stopped, turned, and stared at him.

“At night. To sleep anyway.”

She laughed and followed him inside. “Oh!”

“Nice, huh?”

“Cozy . . . I like it.”

“The guesthouse is even better. Has a full kitchen and not just a sink, microwave, and fridge.”

Dakota moved to the window and opened the curtains wide. “It’s so gorgeous. I have a friend in Lake Tahoe that I visit every year. Her place has a view of the lake, but nothing like this.” She cracked the widow and sucked in a deep breath through her nose. “Love the smell of pine.”

“We don’t get a lot of that in California, do we?”

Her smile was contagious. Walt moved beside her and looked out over the lake. “I know it looks inviting, but that water is cold.”

“I’m sure it feels great on a hot summer day.”

“When you’re twelve.” Walt laughed.

“Well, if I get the urge to jump in, you better come with me.”

He grasped her hand and pulled her toward the back door. A deck extended over the water to where the boats were pulled in and out of the water in the winter.

She hesitated when they reached the end of the dock. “You wouldn’t push me in fully clothed, would you?”

His grip tightened and she attempted to pull away.

“Doc!”

He had no intention of pushing her in, but liked the playful smile that had replaced the fake one she’d been wearing since the airplane.

Instead of pulling her, he moved closer and swept her into his arms. She immediately started pounding on his chest and struggling against him.

He moved quickly to the edge and pretended he was going to toss her.

Her arms placed a death grip around his neck. “Don’t you dare!” She was laughing.

“What’s the matter, Dakota? It’s just water.”

He felt the bite of her nails on his neck. “I go . . . you go.”

She squealed and closed her eyes when he lurched toward the water. “Walter!”

Instead of tossing her in, he lowered her legs to the pier, laughing.

No sooner did her feet hit wood than she swung on him, placed a hand to his chest, and shoved.

Shock registered in her eyes when he kept hold of her hand and they both lost their balance.

No matter how many times he’d willingly jumped into the lake, the shock was the same.

He came up sputtering. “Son of a bitch.”

The first words from Dakota’s mouth were, “Shit, that’s cold.”

Walt splashed her soaked face while he attempted to tread water with his clothes pulling against his efforts.

Dakota returned fire with a well-aimed splash, her teeth already chattering.

Walt swam over, pushed her head in.

She kicked away from him, came up from behind, and jumped on his back. His face was once again underwater; his lungs expanded, looking for air. This time when he surfaced, Dakota was swimming toward the shore. Once she had her footing, she turned his way, laughing. Clothes hung on her, dripping. She lifted a foot, wiggled bare toes. “I-I lost a shoe.”

Walt thought about turning around to find it, abandoned the idea nearly as quickly as it entered his head. “I’ll buy you a new pair.”

His feet touched solid ground and he hauled himself out of the water.

Dakota delivered one final splash, and before he could retaliate, she was running toward the boathouse.

He caught her when she reached the door, grasped her around the waist. She was a stunning, drowned, shivering, giggling rat.

“I’m going to get you for that,” he teased.

“You s-started it.” Her lips quivered, her eyes finally held the laughter inside her.

As water dripped into a pool by the front door, Walt crushed his lips to hers. He loved her taste, the way her arms were playfully slapping him away one minute and pulling him closer the next.

Her lips opened and her tongue mingled with his.

Walt backed her into the door, fumbled behind her, and opened it.

They stumbled inside, Dakota’s hands pulled at the shirt that stuck to his back.

He pushed her against the door. His hand ran down her waist and over her hips.

Dakota’s lips were warm even if her body shivered. “We need to get you out of these,” he said as she tugged his shirt over his head.

“One step ahead of you . . .” Her words trailed off as she kicked off her leftover shoe and ran her fingertips over his chest.

He started to harden, despite the chill left by the lake.

With cold hands, he unbuttoned her blouse and let it slide to the floor with his.

The flesh peeking from under her bra tasted divine, better than any meal, any wine. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured over her breast.

She arched into him. “When did cold water become a turn-on?” she asked.

He removed his shoes, reached to tug at his socks, which refused to let go of his feet. All the while, he kept kissing her chest, her neck.

When she wiggled out of her pants, Walt found himself staring.