Page 118 of Spindrift

Lillianwas wrong. She was not strong enough for any of this.

Shedid, however, try to follow Lillian’s advice over the next few days. Stevieaccepted her apology and shrugged off the exchange. Morgan knew the length oftheir friendship played a part in her quick forgiveness. Stevie understood her,and she didn’t hold grudges—which, Morgan reflected in a less than charitablemoment, was good, considering how much Stevie enjoyed pushing other people’sbuttons.

Thenext time she saw Emilia was at the dock. She’d just returned from a short andfruitless fishing trip, hoping the water would clear her head, only to discoverEmilia scrubbing the deck of her sailboat in a bikini and denim cut-offs.

Fuckme, she thought asshe overshot the mooring and doubled back. Maybe her mother and her own heartwere wrong, and this was just lust, because the way Emilia filled out that suittop should have been illegal.

Rowingin any direction besides Emilia’s wasn’t optional.

“Needa hand?”

“Icould use some company.”

Thoughtsof distancing herself from Emilia floundered in her wake. She let them drown. Emilia’sskin shimmered in the bright sunlight like a beacon.

“Swabbingthe deck?” she asked as she hauled herself onboard and tied off her skiff.

“Figuredit was time. It’s growing things.”

“Things?”

“Things.”Emilia held up a strand of seaweed she had pulled from the waterline. “I don’tlike things.”

“Youneed a scrub brush with a longer handle,” she observed as Emilia bent overagain to scrub at the scum on the side of the hull. Then again, the view theshort handle afforded Morgan was totally worth a little extra effort onEmilia’s part. “Don’t fall in.”

“Spotme if you’re worried.”

Morganwas more than happy to oblige. She placed a hand on Emilia’s waist and wishedthe harbor contained far fewer people so she could put this angle to betteruse.

Stopit,she scoldedherself.Act less like a teenage boy and more like an adult. A respectfuladult.She couldn’t help herself, though. Emilia’s hair fell over hershoulder in a heavy ponytail, nearly trailing in the water, and a bead of sweatran along her spine. Morgan’s hands braced her hips, and she felt the musclesin Emilia’s core work as she fought against the briny scum.

Ineed to keep a clear head,she thought.I need to stop falling.

Emiliagave one last scrub and straightened, turning in Morgan’s arms.

“Hey.”Emilia’s lips were chapped from the salt air, and they caught and held Morgan’sattention.

Morgankissed her. She couldn’t help it. Her mouth needed this woman, and her body—herbody was falling, dropping out from underneath her feet as she understood forthe first time in her life the definition of the wordswoon. Her feetdidn’t waver on the deck, and the hands that held Emilia were steady, butinside she plummeted.

“Cometo my place later,” Emilia said, breaking off the kiss and bringing Morgan backto earth.

“I’mon call.”

“Idon’t care.”

“Okay.”

Emiliahad never invited her into her father’s house. She hadn’t wanted to ask why,guessing it had something to do with Emilia’s grieving process, but her heartleapt at the suggestion even as her mind urged caution. This was a step in thewrong direction—the one that led toward Morgan sobbing in her truck and bingeeating cheese when she couldn’t sleep. She should keep things on her own turf,where she had control.

Hermouth had other ideas. “I’ll cook you dinner,” it said, because her mouth, likethe rest of her body, was an idiot.

Emiliabit Morgan’s lower lip and released it slowly. “You’ve cooked for me severaltimes now. It’s my turn.”

“Canwe go now?” Morgan asked. Her hand had wandered dangerously close to Emilia’sbikini tie.

“Doesthis boat look clean to you?”

“Yes.”

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