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He brightens. “Well played.”

“No one separates,” I continue.

Pepper looks at me. “Agreed.”

“Life vests.”

She looks down at her frog shirt. “Mine will ruin the outfit.”

“Yes.”

Her scent lifts with amusement. “Ridiculous, but fine.”

I crouch in front of her and check the laces on her boots. She goes quiet for half a second.

I look up. “What?”

“You’re very intense about knots.”

Ezra makes a sound into his coffee.

I tighten the last lace with more care than necessary. “I’m intense about you, little rabbit.” I stand and tap the brim of her hat. “Water, snacks, gloves, sample bags.”

She pats the field bag. “Yes, science expedition daddy.”

Ezra chokes again.

I look at her.

Pepper’s smile turns sweet enough to be dangerous. “Am I wrong?”

“Canoe,” I say before my self-control becomes an issue and I turn that sweet smile into a moan.

We walk down to the dock beneath a sky polished bright after rain. Morning light spills through the cypress canopy in broken sheets. Mist lifts from the channel, thin as breath against tea-colored water. Dragonflies flash blue over pickerelweed. A white egret stands knee-deep along the bank, deeply offended by our existence.

Pepper stops at the end of the dock. “Oh.”

Wonder softens her every time the world gives her something worth loving.

Ezra comes up behind her and rests his chin on her shoulder. “You’ve seen this water before.”

“Not like this.”

I know what she means. The channel feels different with a map in my pocket and an old route beneath it.

Pepper steps into the middle of the canoe. Ezra takes the front. I settle behind her with the paddle.

“Comfortable?” I ask.

“Very.”

Ezra reaches one arm behind him until his fingers find Pepper’s knee. She links their hands.

“There,” she says. “That’s better.”

“Very romantic,” Ezra says.

“Accurate.”