Nell cocked her head at this new turn of events and approached the boat hesitantly.

“You don’t have to get in this time.”

The dog contented herself with watching as Emilia removed the oars and flipped the skiff. It weighed more than she expected, and she panted as she surveyed her craft. A hairline crack ran one-third of the length of the hull. She traced it with her finger, aware that a second rowboat was, predictably, approaching the dock, and vowing not to look up.

Nell greeted the sable German shepherd warily. Snouts and tails swapped places, until both dogs appeared to decide on a policy of live and let live, and the shepherd nosed Emilia’s pocket. She blinked into his warm, brown eyes.

“Oh hello there,” she said as her heart melted. “Aren’t you handsome.”

He smiled a dog smile and waited expectantly. Emilia’s hand went to her pocket automatically, but she paused, looking from brown eyes to slate blue. “May I give him a treat?” she asked Morgan.

“It’ll make his day.”

She slipped the dog a cookie, saving a second for a jealous Nell, and ruffled both sets of ears. Most of the shepherds she’d known were reserved with strangers, but then again this was their second meeting and she had cookies. The odds were in her favor.

“What’s his name again?” she asked, though she remembered well enough.

“Kraken.”

“Right. Your roommate’s choice.”

“Only tentacle he has is his tongue, though.” The tongue in question lolled.

“And you’ve met Nell twice now.” She glanced at her dog, who leaned against Morgan’s leg and was enjoying a chin scratch.

“We’re old pals.”

Damn it, she thought as Morgan found Nell’s itchy spot and the dog’s lips curled in ecstasy. Some of her defenses crumbled, along with her resentment. She couldn’t hold hard feelings against someone who appreciated her dog, and Nell’s seal of approval was hard to ignore. She shoved her hands into the sorry excuse for pockets in her jeans, envious of Morgan’s work pants and their capacious, practical ones.

“I wanted to apologize,” Morgan said.

“For what?”

“I get the feeling we got off on the wrong foot.”

Emilia tucked a rogue strand of hair behind her ear. She didn’t say anything, and Morgan smiled ruefully.

“For the record, you’re not the first to fall off your boat here. I’ve done it. You just got unlucky enough to have a witness.”

Emilia grimaced. “I don’t know about unlucky. You did pull me out, and I’m not sure I could have managed that on my own.”

“Be honest, though. You hate me a little for that, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” she allowed as her skin prickled with embarrassment and an unexpected surge of relief tugged the corners of her mouth up in a smile. It felt surprisingly good to be called out by this woman. Morgan, by all rights, should have written her off as a bitch and walked away. She hadn’t.

“Can I make it up to you with a drink?”