Footsteps vibrated down the dock, and she groaned. An audience would really ice the cake. “If you come right now I will buy you a cheeseburger.”

Nell remained unimpressed. The footsteps came closer. Emilia closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and braced herself for unwanted human interaction.

“Need a hand?” The voice, low and calm, came from the woman standing a few yards away with her hand on the collar of a sable German shepherd. Emilia assessed the dog’s body language and gauged his reaction to Nell, who rarely showed an interest in members of her own species. Then she raised her eyes to the woman. “He won’t bother your dog,” the intruder said, as if reading Emilia’s mind.

Fuck. Emilia’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Life just wasn’t fair. She recognized the woman standing before her, even though it had to have been at least fifteen years since she’d last seen her. Morgan Donovan.

She was taller now than she’d been as a teenager, but those slate blue eyes remained unchanged. Her wardrobe hadn’t altered much, either. Carhartt work pants, slung low over lean hips. Practical boots. A simple brown sweater that her fingers itched to smooth over shoulders broadened from a lifetime of rugged athleticism. The impulse quickened her irritation, and she jerked her eyes back up, noticing the most significant change. Morgan’s hair was no longer bundled into a sloppy ponytail. She’d cropped it short, and the dark curls brought out the contrast with her fair skin.

“Classic Black Irish coloring, just like her mom,” her father had said once when he saw Emilia staring at the Donovan’s’ girl in the harbor. Emilia had pined after Morgan the last two summers she’d spent in Seal Cove, before her mother had sued for full custody and her father lost visitation rights. She recalled with humiliation that Morgan hadn’t so much as said hello in all that time.

It hadn’t occurred to her she might run into Morgan now, and even if it had, she wouldn’t have thought much of it. Unrequited love was one of those universal adolescent experiences that prepared children for the inevitable heartbreaks to come. She’d gotten over Morgan years ago. Still, seeing her when she was barely managing to keep her shit together smacked of cosmic sadism.

She met Morgan’s open gaze with a glare. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Sure.” Her eyes swept over the milk jug and Nell’s stubborn ears. “You look like you have things under control.”

“I do. Nell, come.” Perhaps it was the unmistakable command in her voice, or perhaps Nell had taken pity on her, for the dog leapt lightly into the boat and settled between Emilia’s knees like she had done so a hundred times before. “See? We’re peachy.”

Peachy? What are you, five? She flipped the oarlocks into place and fumbled the oars into them. Then, realizing Morgan had shown no signs of moving on, she popped one oar back out and used it to push off. She got six feet before the bowline snapped taut.