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brain power of an ant, or maybe not even. She’d deal with that later. Right now, she fought to pull in a full breath.
    “But you should go. I’m pretty sure if you invited Mr. Stafford over for donuts, he’d come. His son’s away this weekend, or did you miss that, too?”
    “No,” Diane pronounced, cocking her head. Warmth settled in her chest at her daughter’s easy inclusion of Marc. “I didn’t miss that.” She lifted the basket from the knob and stepped inside to place it on the entry-way table. Glancing in the silver-framed mirror, she ran a hand through her hair. “I look okay?” She rifled through her purse, found her lipstick, and applied it fresh.
    “Fine,” Meggie answered.
    Diane inhaled and stood up straight, gleeful anticipation filling her. “Okay. I’ll be back.” She raised her eyebrows. “Or, maybe, we’ll be back.”
    Meggie nodded, a self-satisfied set to her mouth. “I’ll make coffee.” Her daughter walked toward the kitchen, texting as she disappeared.

Chapter Seven
    Marc kicked at a stone on the road. He wondered if his entire plan had been flawed. The May basket was a good idea, he was pretty sure of that. But he probably should have just driven over with his truck, left the flowers, driven home, and let events play out.
    But he’d become impatient. Diane had been a friendly face since his wife had distanced herself from him and their son. But only since his son’s mother’s relocation, had he acknowledged deeper inclinations. When Diane showed up Friday, in her sneakers and jeans, heading out with fresh flowers and home-made bread, he wanted nothing more than for him, and Ian, to be a part of that life, a part of her optimistic, imperfect life.
    With Ian away looking at colleges, he was at especially loose ends. He didn’t want to just keep seeing Diane here and there around town only when they crossed paths. So he’d walked, delivered the basket, and now dawdled, and meandered to the point of ridiculousness, hoping he could see her this morning.
    How much more time could he waste? He checked his watch. Diane had driven by over ten minutes ago. He hadn’t known whether to wave, or look away and pretend he hadn’t seen her. Frozen in indecision, he hadn’t done anything.
    He was about to pick up his pace and just get himself home when rapid steps sounded behind him. He tensed.
    ****
    Diane kept her gaze on Marc. In jeans and a navy sweater, he was moving slowly for a man who normally jettisoned around as if hooked to his own private energy generator. “Hey, Marc,” she called.
    He turned and lifted a hand in greeting.
    Her heart thumped harder.
    Their gazes met, his crinkling at the corners of his eyes in the way she found so attractive. A smile opened on his handsome face.
    Her breath coming in short puffs, Diane tripped forward, the rising emotions inside her suddenly defined. Happiness. Happiness that Marc Stafford not only wanted to give her a May basket surprise, but that maybe he also wanted to join them for Sunday morning donuts, all of them, her and her children.
    And desire. Desire rose, too. An organic yearning for this man that stood facing her under a graceful canopy of branches sprouting new green leaves.
    When she reached where he stood, she stopped, a breeze dancing around them.
    “The flowers,” Diane breathed in a deep gulp of air. “My kids saw you. Meggie said…”
    Marc nodded. Raising his eyebrows, he waited for her to continue.
    “I love them. They are so beautiful.” Diane looked down, gathering her thoughts and emotions, then back up into his face. “I love that you brought me a May basket.”
    “I don’t know too much about the tradition,” He cocked his head. “I hope I got it right.”
    How to tell him how much the basket had meant, that he’d gotten it just perfect. “It is the best surprise I’ve gotten in a very long time.”
    Would he think she meant just the flowers? He had to know she meant him bringing the basket made it