Emilia felt Stevie’s measuring look and did not meet her eyes. She could not work at Seal Cove. Even if she was looking for a job, which she wasn’t, throwing herself completely into Morgan’s world would be a disaster on so many levels. To begin, she still hardly knew the woman, for all that her body begged to differ, and if things didn’t work out between them—which was highly likely—she’d be stuck working with her. Secondly, once again she would have made a career decision based on her heart instead of her mind, and that hadn’t exactly worked out splendidly last time.

That didn’t mean she found the idea repulsive. She allowed herself to sink into the fantasy. Large animal medicine had interested her at one point. Perhaps she could embrace that latent passion and do what Morgan did now, driving around the countryside, or leave ambulatory for Morgan and take over the large animal duties at the hospital. The pay raise alone was tempting. Large animal vets didn’t always make as much as their small animal counterparts, but compared to a shelter vet, she’d be rich—in more ways than one. The Seal Cove practice felt like a family. They cared about each other. They loved what they did. She desperately wanted to be a part of something like that.

Angie’s shout of greeting floated over the orchard. With matching sighs, the three of them stood, stretched off the somnolent atmosphere, and walked back to the house. Emilia felt the absence of Morgan’s hand in hers but did not reach out to take it. She was an adult, not a sixteen-year-old. She didn’t need that kind of constant reassurance, and she had never been one for PDA. Walking beside Morgan was enough. The backs of their knuckles brushed every few steps, and the warmth of the summer afternoon encircled her like Morgan’s arms. She shot her a lazy smile over her shoulder. Morgan’s answering grin poured down her spine like sunlight.

Angie stripped out of her stained work polo as they entered the fenced yard.

“It’s hot.” She slumped into a lawn chair in her sports bra. “Why is it hot?”

“It’s July. Need a hose?” Stevie made a move toward the spigot on the side of the house.

“Don’t you dare, Stephanie Ward.”

Stevie lunged.

Angie was up and shrieking before the water hit her. Stevie, Emilia conceded, was almost freakishly fast, and a spray of water slapped Angie across the back as she tried to flee to the shelter of the house. Dripping, she turned, and Emilia covered her own burst of laughter with her hand as Stevie got Angie across the chest.

“You are so dead.”