Page 135 of Spindrift

Tireson gravel broke her out of her reading trance some time later. Nell leapt offthe porch in a streak of greyhound muscle and speed to greet Kraken. She sether empty tea mug down and stood to watch Morgan walk up the drive. Morganknelt to pick up a stick and tossed it for the dogs. Nell got to it first, butovershot and kept running, bounding over the grass that Emilia had let growtall again because she liked the wildflowers. Kraken seized the opportunity andloped back to his person with the stick clamped firmly in his jaws. Morganruffled his ears and then looked up to smile at Emilia.

Wouldshe ever get used to that? she wondered as electricity pulsed through her.Morgan walked toward her with her sure gait, her strong body moving smoothly asshe mounted the steps to the porch and pulled Emilia into her arms.

“Nicesweater,” Morgan said.

“Kissme, you idiot.”

Morganobliged her. Emilia put her arms around her neck and allowed Morgan to remindher, quite thoroughly, how much she’d missed her over the course of the day.She broke away only when they were both breathless.

“I’vebeen thinking,” she said.

Morgankissed her neck, distracting her.

“Aboutwhat?” Morgan asked between gentle nips.

“Aboutgetting you a key.”

“Really.”

Morgan’shands broke Emilia’s train of thought. She let Morgan pull her toward the chairand was more than happy to curl up on her lap as Morgan banished the evening’schill with her lips.

“Really.If you’d like one.”

Morganlooked up at her. As always, she fell into those eyes.

“I’dlove one.”

“Wellthen.” Emilia dug into her pocket and pulled out the key she’d had cut on herway home.Home. She savored the word. Home was here, in this house, inthis town, with this woman.

Morganaccepted the key like it was something precious. Emilia watched her face,loving the freckles across her cheeks and nose and the way her eyelashesbrushed them when she blinked, and loving, too, the tenderness in the wayMorgan held her—and beneath that tenderness, beneath the warm certainty of hersmile, the sense of permanence that this, at least, was hers to hold onto.

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