Page 68 of Spindrift

“We’renot driving?”

“Technically,yes, we are. We’re just driving a boat.”

Morgangave up trying not to watch Emilia as she walked down the ramp. Emilianavigated the slight incline in a pair of sensible flats, her feet sure and herhand lightly brushing the railing as she looked out over the water.She’sletting me look,Morgan realized with a jolt. She had no idea what thatmeant. Surely Emilia wouldn’t invite her to dinner only to push her away? Thenagain, what did Morgan know about what Emilia would or wouldn’t do?Steviewas right. I’m going to get hurt either way.

“Doyou want to row out with me or should I come back for you?” she asked to clearher head.

Emiliascrutinized Morgan’s skiff. “Is there a hole in yours?”

“Notlast I checked.”

“ThenI’ll come with you. Unless, of course, you want me to row?” She arched a darkbrow.

“Wouldyou like to?”

“Wouldyou let me? Last I checked, you had zero faith in my boating skills.”

“Youmade a strong first impression.”

“AnnnndI’m rowing.” Emilia stepped into Morgan’s skiff and snapped the oarlocks intoplace before Morgan could protest.

Youdeserve that, shetold herself.

Sittingin the back of her own rowboat unsettled her. More unsettling was the proximityit brought her to Emilia, who maneuvered them away from the dock with none ofthe awkwardness Morgan had noted that first day.

“You’vebeen practicing,” she said to distract herself. The neckline of Emilia’s dress,while modest when Emilia stood upright, dipped each time she leaned into theoars. Morgan threaded her useless fingers together and did her best to pretendshe hadn’t noticed.

“That,or I set the bar very low. Tell me if I’m about to hit anything.”

“You’reclear. Head a little toward starboard.”

“Whynot just say right?”

“We’rein a boat. The boat’s right side doesn’t change, but if I say right, you mightnot know if I meant my right or your right. That, and I can only think of leftand right in terms of patient charts.”

“Really?”

“Whydo you sound like that is worse than midnight cheese theft?” What she didn’tsay was that Ray had taught Morgan port and starboard. Using the terms with hisdaughter felt right, but she didn’t want his ghost rising between them. Themuscles in Emilia’s arms shifted smoothly beneath the sleeves of the dress, andher tanned skin burned a warm gold in the evening light.

“Whereis this restaurant?”

“NearPemaquid. It’s faster to get there by boat, and I’m on call tonight.”

“Thereare plenty of restaurants in town.”

“Butyou’ve never been to Sally’s. It’s my duty to change that. And here we are.”She held out her hand to catch the side of her boat as Emilia startled andlooked over her shoulder. They clambered in, careful to account for the other’sweight. “I can get the mooring.”

“Igot it,” said Emilia, who still had the skiff’s bowline in her hand. She kneltin the prow. Morgan abandoned trying to be polite and settled for keeping herhands firmly to herself. The dress hugged Emilia’s ass, and again she got thesense that Emilia knew exactly what she was doing. Sweat pricked her palms.

“Thanks.”She cleared her throat. Her voice appeared to have dropped an octave. “Uh, itmight get chilly on the water. I’ve got a spare jacket on the boat if you needit.”

“I’lljust stand back here with you,” said Emilia as she stepped behind the shelterof the windshield.

Morganstarted the engine. A spectacular evening spilled over the harbor. They hadmaybe an hour before sunset, but the running lights on the boat would see themhome safely, and she’d checked the forecast.

“Howwas your sail?”

“Incredible.I think Nell hated it, though. Or maybe she just hated her life jacket.”

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