“Or maybe he can just get something at the dock,” Daniel suggested. “They have a hot dog stand right by the boats. Your dad can get a lunch for under three dollars when he forgets his lunch.” He paused and tilted his head. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Three dollars here and there adds up, especially as often as he forgets his lunch,” Harper explained.

“Not to mention you wouldn’t get to see me.”

“I wasn’t…” She trailed off, since she’d obviously been waiting for him today. “That isn’t why. I do bring his food out to save him money. Okay, so today, this one time, I was hoping to run into you, but is that so terrible?”

“No. That’s not terrible at all.” He stood up straighter and gestured to his boat. “Do you want to come up and talk, then?”

“On your boat?” Harper asked.

“Yes. On my boat. It seems much more civil than talking down to you, doesn’t it?”

Harper glanced toward the end of the dock where her father worked. She had probably ruined his lunch anyway, and Brian could easily grab a hot dog. But she still wasn’t that sure she wanted to hang out on Daniel’s boat with him.

Yes, she wanted to see him, but going up on his boat—it felt like admitting something that she didn’t want to admit.

“Oh, come on.” Daniel leaned over the rail and extended his arm to her.

“Don’t you have like a landing plank or anything?” Harper asked, just staring at his hand.

“Yes, but this is quicker.” He waved his hand at her. “Take my hand and come on.”

Sighing, Harper took his hand. It was strong and rough, the hand of a guy who’d spent his whole life working. He pulled her up easily, as if she weighed nothing. To get her up over the rail, he had to pull her into his arms, and he held her there for a second longer than he needed to.

“Don’t you own a shirt?” Harper asked when she pushed herself back from his bare chest.

He wore only a pair of shorts and flip-flops, and Harper purposely wouldn’t look at him once she’d stepped away from him. She could still feel his skin on hers, warm from the sun beating down on them.

“My shirts have hit you in the face before, remember?” Daniel asked.

“Yeah. Right.” She glanced around the deck, and then, since she had nothing else to do with it, she held out the lunch sack to him. “Here.”

“Thanks?”

He took the bag from her and opened it. He rooted around inside, finding a smooshed ham sandwich, apple slices, and a pickle.

“Apple slices?” Daniel asked, holding them for her to see. “Is your dad a first-grader?”