Emilia’s car sat in the lot, but she didn’t see Emilia. Maybe meeting here was a bad idea, she thought, remembering the last time they’d been in the boathouse together. She parked, still looking around, and passed through the danger zone and out onto the wharf.

A woman leaned against the rail. Her dark hair blew around her shoulders, and the simple navy blue dress hugged her body as the wind caught it like a sail. Morgan froze. The dress was casual. It was the sort of summer dress women wore all the time, she reasoned with herself. It wasn’t Emilia’s fault that she looked a thousand times better in it than any woman Morgan had ever seen. Granted, Emilia looked good in everything.

Emilia looked up and waved as Morgan ordered her feet to continue their approach. She leaned against the rail beside Emilia, feeling impossibly gawky and out of her league, and stared at the ocean below. “See anything down there?”

“Yeah. Remind me never to fall in again. I just saw a crab big enough to eat my foot.”

“Alternatively, we could eat him. Do you like seafood?”

“I like all food.”

“My kind of woman.” Belatedly, she realized how that might sound.

“I haven’t eaten here in ages. Half the restaurants I know are gone.”

“Ever been to Sally’s?”

Emilia frowned. “I don’t think so.”

“Then that’s where we’re going.” She set off down the ramp that led to the dock but paused when she realized Emilia had not followed.

“We’re not driving?”

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

Morgan gave up trying not to watch Emilia as she walked down the ramp. Emilia navigated the slight incline in a pair of sensible flats, her feet sure and her hand lightly brushing the railing as she looked out over the water. She’s letting me look, Morgan realized with a jolt. She had no idea what that meant. Surely Emilia wouldn’t invite her to dinner only to push her away? Then again, what did Morgan know about what Emilia would or wouldn’t do? Stevie was right. I’m going to get hurt either way.

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

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

“Not last I checked.”

“Then I’ll come with you. Unless, of course, you want me to row?” She arched a dark brow.

“Would you like to?”

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

“You made a strong first impression.”

“Annnnd I’m rowing.” Emilia stepped into Morgan’s skiff and snapped the oarlocks into place before Morgan could protest.

You deserve that, she told herself.