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Then he shifted his weight and reached between them. His fingers found her. Kate’s whole body tensed. Wes kept moving inside her while his thumb circled the sensitive flesh between her thighs.

The pressure built almost unbearably. Kate clung to him, no longer capable of matching his rhythm. Her climax rose in a long wave and then broke through her. She buried her face against his neck as her body pulsed around him.

Wes groaned. His movements became shorter, harder. Kate felt the muscles across his back tighten beneath her hands. He buried himself deeply and went still. For a few seconds they remained locked together, both breathing hard.

Then Wes lowered himself carefully beside her and pulled her into his arms. Kate lay with her cheek against his chest. His heartbeat was still racing beneath her ear. Outside, the storm continued as though nothing inside the house had changed. Kate smiled.

Wes’s hand moved lazily down her back. Neither of them spoke. They did not need to. Eventually the cold air on Kate’s damp skin became impossible to ignore.

She lifted her head. “I think we forgot the getting-warm part of the shower.”

Wes looked at her wet hair spread across his pillow. “I think we got warm.”

Kate laughed softly. He found towels and one of his T-shirts for her while she dried her hair as well as she could. The shirt fell halfway down her thighs. Wes pulled on sweatpants and followed her downstairs.

On the way, Kate remembered the stew waiting on the kitchen counter. Her stomach growled loudly enough that Wes looked at her.

“Not a word.”

He smiled and took the container from the counter. “I was just going to say thank goodness for your mom’s cooking.”

“I agree.” Kate found bowls while he reheated the stew. Neither of them was inclined to do much more than that. They ate at the kitchen table with thick slices of bread Wes found in the freezer and warmed in the oven.

For several minutes, conversation seemed unnecessary. Kate was ravenous. So was Wes.

The storm had strengthened while they were upstairs. Rain moved against the windows in bursts, and every so often the wind made something outside scrape or rattle. Wes looked toward the window more than once. Kate noticed the third time.

“You want to go and check everything.”

“I do.”

“But you aren’t going to.”

“No.”

There was enough reluctance in the answer to make her smile. “My father is probably sitting at their kitchen table doing exactly the same thing.”

“Your mother will stop him.”

“She’ll try.”

Wes took another spoonful of stew.

Kate looked around the kitchen. She had been here before, but never like this. Barefoot. Wearing Wes’s shirt. Her wet jacket hanging in his mudroom while a storm worked its way across both orchards.

She had expected staying to feel like a larger decision once she had actually done it. Instead, she felt calm. Shouldn’t she have had second thoughts by now? Kate tore off another piece of bread and waited for them. They did not come.

The lights flickered. Wes glanced upward. A few seconds later they steadied.

“Is that normal?”

“With this wind? It isn’t surprising.”

“You have flashlights.”

“Yes.”

“Candles?”