KATIE’S REMEDY TO MISSING their evening date on the porch was, apparently, to get a fire going in the pit out back between the driveway and one of the sheds. She’d pulled a sweater on over her dress. As he approached the fire with a six pack, a bag of marshmallows, and grilling skewers, Brendan frowned.
“Is that my sweater?”
“Yes.”
“You stole my sweater!”
“Not for the first time and I very much doubt for the last.” Katie crouched next to the fire and rearranged a log with a poke from a long stick.
Brendan wanted to make any number of comments about that statement, but he didn’t want to put her on the defensive. Not when today had been so pleasant. So he dropped cross-legged into the grass and opened a bottle of beer for each of them.
Katie took hers and clinked it off of Brendan’s as
