The marina manager is standing on the fuel dock when Willa walks up, but it’s the guy in the skiff that’s tied to a piling who catches her attention. He has reddish-blond hair, sun-stained skin, and dimples—oh my!—but it’s his faded brown T-shirt that makes the hair prickle on the back of her neck. Because across his chest it says GET A LITTLE WILD.

“Where did you get that shirt?” she asks, only vaguely aware that she’s interrupted their conversation.

“It’s my work shirt,” he says. “I run wild horse tours over in Corolla.”

“Oh my God.” Willa barks out a laugh. “This is just—Finley had to have something to do with this.”

“Sorry, but you’re not making any sense at all.”

“No. I know,” she says. “But my friend and I were just trying to figure out how to get to Corolla”—she makes an effort to pronounce it kuh-RAW-luh, the way he just did—“and now here you are, wearing those exact words on your shirt, and there’s no way this is a coincidence.”

“Nope. Still not making sense,” he says. “But if what you’re getting at is that you want me to ferry you across the sound to see wild horses, then heck yeah, I’m gonna do that. Because I’d be six sorts of stupid to say no to a girl that looks like you.”

Her cheeks are sunburn-hot as she smiles at him. “I’m Willa.”

“Just in case it matters to you at all, I’m Wyatt.”

Willa and Wyatt. It’s toothache-sweet, and she can already hear Taylor teasing her about it. What’s more, it’s ridiculous to even let her thoughts run that far ahead, but his eyes are the color of the ocean and Willa can’t stop looking at him. “It definitely matters.”

Completely squeezed out of the conversation, the marina manager walks away, shaking his head and chuckling.

“When do you want to leave?” Wyatt asks.

“As soon as Taylor’s nails are dry.”

“If Taylor is your boyfriend, the whole deal is off.”

“She is not my boyfriend or my girlfriend.”

His dimples deepen. “Then I’ll wait right here while you go get her.”

Taylor is wiggling her toes in an effort to help the polish dry faster when Willa returns to the boat. “So the weirdest thing just happened,” she says. “I met a boy.”

“I hate to break this to you,” Taylor says. “But meeting boys is not weird. There are hundreds, probably thousands, who would love to meet you.”

“Maybe so, but this boy is going to take us in his boat to see wild horses.”

“His name better not be Glenn.”

Willa laughs. “Actually, his name is Wyatt, and Taylor . . . ? He’s wearing a T-shirt that says ‘Get a little wild.’ ”

Taylor is silent for a beat, then, “That just gave me chills.”