“Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for inviting me.”

“This crowd can be a lot to digest.”

“I really like them. And dinner was amazing. Any time you’re on the grill, feel free to call me.”

“I wish I had more free time,” said Morgan. “That’s one hell of an incentive.”

“Next time I promise I won’t steal any of yours.”

“Yeah, well.” She cleared her throat as the memory of Emilia’s lips closing over her fork rocketed her internal temperature.

“Do I want to know who that is?” Emilia nodded toward Lana.

“No.”

“So, not a friend?”

“She’s Angie’s . . . thing.”

“I take it you don’t like her?”

Morgan turned and leaned against the counter next to Emilia. The change in perspective brought her closer to Emilia, even if it also brought Lana, who looked bored and moody as she exchanged glares with Stevie, into view.

“We don’t.”

“But you hide it so well.”

“Shut up.”

“I know the type. Anyway, I really should get back to Nell.”

“You good to drive?”

“Would you send me to driver’s ed if you thought I wasn’t?”

Morgan rubbed the back of her neck and grimaced at the reminder of her earlier misstep. “No, but I would offer to drive you.”

“You’ve had more to drink than I have.”

“True.” Morgan grinned and bent her head to whisper in Emilia’s ear. “Then again, you haven’t seen my drunk ass fall into the harbor.”

“You did not just go there.”

“Too soon?”

“Just be grateful you’re in a roomful of witnesses, Morgan Donovan.”

Hearing her full name from Emilia was almost more than she could handle. “I could walk you to your car.”

“Are you sure that’s safe?”

“Definitely not.” Morgan meant the words, even if not in the way she suspected Emilia had intended them to be taken. Or maybe that was exactly what Emilia had intended, for her mock outrage slipped and her brown eyes flickered to Morgan’s lips. Oh fuck.

“Let me say good-bye to your friends first.” Emilia pushed off the counter slowly, her movements deliberate, and bade the remaining members of the party goodnight. Lana’s eyes lingered on her longer than Morgan liked.

“I’ll text you,” Lillian said as Emilia waved good-bye.

“Looks like they’re your friends, too,” said Morgan.

“I’m reserving judgment until after I run with her. Is she in as good of shape as she looks?”

“Probably better.”

Emilia had parked by Stormy’s jeep. Morgan wished she’d parked farther away even as she recognized the inherent problems in that thought.

“Offer to drive still stands.”

“And how would you get home?” asked Emilia.

“I’d figure it out. Uber. There has to be one around here somewhere.”

“Seriously, I’ll be okay. I’m sober now. I never finished my third beer, and driving in Maine is nowhere near as dangerous as driving in Boston.”

“But Boston has fewer moose. And potholes.”

“True. Those are really, really bad.”

“Right?” Morgan patted the hood of Emilia’s car. “Some of them could swallow this thing. Or were you talking about the potholes?”