Page 2 of Spindrift

“Cheers,dad.” She took a swallow. The wine soothed her throat. Nell lay down besideher, inspection complete, and rested her long snout on Emilia’s knee.

Chapter Two

Morganstared at her hand. It remained on the ignition, where it had lingered for ten minuteswhile she watched Ray Russo’s daughter struggle with the dilapidated dinghy afew moorings over. She quelled the desire to offer further assistance. The lookin those brown eyes had been clear:I don’t want your help. That didn’tmean Morgan hadn’t noticed how desperately she clearly needed it. The grief inthe other woman’s face had hit Morgan like a mule kick to the gut.Shedoesn’t need you to save her.The way the woman’s knuckles had whitened onthe oars flashed across her mind. What was she afraid of? And her mouth, beforeit had twisted with determination, with her lips parted and vulnerable—stop.She didn’t normally have this level of empathy for complete strangers, nomatter how attractive. Then again, the woman wasn’t exactly a stranger, wasshe?

“Ishould’ve said something.” Her dog pricked his ears at her voice, but when shedidn’t add anything else, he lay back down on the deck. A lump rose in herthroat as she sat in the captain’s chair and let her hand fall to her lap. Shestill couldn’t believe Ray was gone. Over the sunlit water, his daughter curledup on the bow of his boat. Morgan saw the glint of light on glass and a deepred glow: wine. The sight made the lump larger. Drinking alone on her boat waswhat had first brought Ray into Morgan's life, back when she didn’t know thefirst thing about operating her twenty-one-foot Bayliner. She had been afraidto take it out and just as afraid of admitting to herself that she had no ideawhat she was doing. Ray had set her straight.

Well,not about the drinking. She’d helped him home several times over the past fewyears. Seeing his daughter with a bottle to her lips roused a bittersweet pang.She hoped the girl knew when to stop. Ray never had. The thought settled thedecision. She’d stay in the harbor instead of nipping up the tidal river for alittle fishing. Being on the water, even if she didn’t move, was better thanthe chaos of the house she shared with her friends. She leaned back in thechair and watched the clouds turn pink, then orange, as the sun descendedfurther into the western sky. The late May light softened the grays and blacksof the rocky shoreline with its shuttered summer homes and brooding pines.

Emilia.That was her name, same as Ray’s boat. Ray had mentioned she’d come to staywith him in the summer when she was younger, but Morgan had no memory of anyonewho looked remotely like Emilia Russo ever setting foot in Seal Cove. She lether gaze drift back down to the sailboat, remembering the coldness in thosebrown eyes and the flush of embarrassment across Emilia's olive skin. Hot andcold. She wiped her palms on her pants, aware that the sudden prick of sweatheralded danger.

Themajority of the moorings were empty this early in the season. Few of the summerpeople had arrived, and only the locals and the lobstermen and women had theirboats in the water. Morgan preferred it this way. Quiet. Tranquil. It gave hera break from the hectic schedule of the clinic, which had lost its otherfull-time large animal veterinarian in April, and it also gave her a break fromher housemates. It wouldn’t be the same this year without Ray, though. Settlingdeeper in her chair, she propped her feet on the dash and closed her eyes.

Morganjerked awake some time later as her phone vibrated on her hip. A message fromher friend Stevie glowed on the screen:You’re late.

Sheignored it. Sunset brought cold air in from the ocean, and she inhaled thelingering winter chill.

Asplash caught her attention. She shoved her phone back in her pocket as astring of obscenities carried over the water. Her dog woke at once and boundedto the rail with his tail upright and alert. Morgan stared around the harborfor the source of the disturbance. The fading sunlight cast long shadows, andthe water surrounding the neighboring boats looked nearly black.

Emiliano longer sprawled over the bow of the sailboat. This, paired with the franticbarking of the woman’s dog, clued Morgan in.

“Shit.”She fired up the engine and sprang to unhook her boat from its mooring. TheMaine water was still dangerously cold this time of year, especially forsomeone drinking. She gunned the engine as much as she dared in close quarters,not wanting to slap Emilia with wake, and circled around to bring her boatalongside theEmilia Rosa. She tossed a bumper out of habit and looped ahasty line around a cleat to keep the boats from drifting, then leaned over thebow to extend a hand to the woman clinging to the sailboat’s hull.

“Here.”

“I’mfine,” Emilia said through chattering teeth. The anger in her voice made Morganflinch.

“Likehell you are. Give me your hand.”

“No.”

“Seriously?”Morgan leaned over further and grabbed Emilia by the wrists. She pried her gripaway from the sailboat and hauled Emilia over the rail, thankful for the rigorousrequirements of her job. The greyhound stopped barking at once.

Emilialooked too startled at the sudden change in her circumstances to speak rightaway, and instead stood in a steadily growing puddle on the deck of Morgan’sboat. The thick wool sweater she wore—one of Ray’s, Morgan realized—sagged onher slender frame, and her brown hair dripped into her face. Morgan rummagedthrough the storage cabinet in the bow and pulled out a beach towel. Surfingpenguins emblazoned the worn cotton, but if Emilia found it insensitive shekept it to herself.

“Yourdog okay with other dogs?” she asked Emilia. She didn’t love the idea of anunknown dog on her boat, but neither did she like the thought of leaving ananimal behind. If it was anything like Emilia, it might decide to go for aswim, and greyhounds were notoriously cold intolerant. Two hypothermia victimsweren’t on her docket for the evening.

Emilianodded.

“What’sher name?”

“Nell.”

“Nell,come,” Morgan said in the soft but firm voice she reserved for skittishanimals. The greyhound leapt onto the boat in a scrabble of claws and flungherself at her owner. Her own dog, Kraken, grumbled at this invasion of hisspace, but obeyed Morgan’s sharp command to stay put.

“There’sa shower at the boathouse. It’ll warm you up.”

“Idon’t have a change of clothes,” said Emilia through chattering teeth.

“Makessense. I assumed you weren’t planning on going for a swim?”

Emiliagrimaced in reply.

“Ican lend you something to wear.”

“Youdon’t need to do that.”

Morganstifled the derisive snort before it could escape. Emilia’s clipped politeness,which bordered on bitchy, obviously covered up the woman’s embarrassment. Morganwanted to call her on her bullshit like she would have done with Stevie. That,however, didn’t seem like it would go over well. She untied her boat from theEmiliaRosaand took them into the dock a short distance away. Emilia stared ather soaked feet the entire ride, huddled in the seat next to Morgan andshivering in the wind. Even soaking wet and draped in tropical penguins she wasgorgeous; an observation Morgan couldn’t help making despite her better judgment.

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