The boat engine’s pitch changes, pulling me from my thoughts as we near the harbor, and crew members gather their tools and lunch pails, getting ready to step off for the weekend.
Emily turns from the bow, moving with a steady, confident stride that no longer reads as arrogance to me. Kyle shouts something that prompts her to shake her head, a small smile touching the corners of her mouth.
Jared, who sits on the bench nearest the bow, half rises before thumping back down into his seat. He scrubs a hand over his face and thunks his head against the wall behind him, his eyes closed.
A tension has developed between the two Alphas since the market confrontation. I’vewatched it play out all week with a growing sense of unease.
But it’s not my place to be nosey.
With a sigh, I tuck the dragon into my jacket pocket. Such a small thing to cause such anxiety. But it’s not really about the toy, is it?
The boat slows further, water churning white around the hull as the engines reverse. The deck vibrates beneath my feet as the bow kisses the dock’s rubber bumper.
Jared jumps into motion, vaulting with easy grace over the side of the boat to tie off the front.
“Pinecrest Harbor,” Kyle announces over the intercom. “Please watch your step when disembarking.”
Bodies jump off the boat before Jared can secure the back of the boat or put out the ramp. He huffs with good-natured annoyance, the metal ramp propped under his arm while crew members call out goodbyes as their feet thud onto the dock.
I stand, joints stiff from sitting too long, and wait until Jared finishes setting up the safer exit route. My fingers find the dragon in my pocket again, tracing the damaged wing.
If I don’t ask now, I’ll lose my chance.
Emily moves to the starboard side, her tool bag slung over one shoulder, talking with a crewmember who I’ve seen giving orders at the construction site, so I assume he must be her second in command.
I hang back, watching, waiting for an opening that won’t come off as an intrusion.
Jared secures the ramp as Emily finishes her conversation, and her gaze sweeps the deck for any stragglers. When her eyes meet mine, she pauses, her head tilting in acknowledgment, and then she strides toward the ramp.
That brief moment of recognition steels my resolve. I’ll ask her. The worst she can say is no.
Over the side of the boat, I spot Jared waiting on the dock for the boat to empty, hands in his pockets, watching for Emily. Another complication I hadn’t considered.
He’ll hang back for a few minutes to help his cousin, but then he’ll be heading home with Emily.
As she shoulders her tool bag and steps onto the ramp, my heart hammers.
She nods at Jared as their paths cross, though neither Alpha speaks.
Halway down the dock, I force myself to catch up to her before she disappears into the crowd gathered near the parking lot.
My fingers close around the wooden dragon in my pocket as I call out, “Ms. Wilson?”
The formality feels strange in my mouth after weeks of casual encounters on the island, but my nerves default to politeness.
She turns, surprise flickering across her features. The breeze from the water tousles her silver hair, and she tucks a strand behind her ear. “Hey, Leif, what do you need?”
Grateful she didn’t bring up the awkward call out, I extract the dragon from my pocket, its wooden body warm from being pressed against my body. “I have a favor to ask, if you don’t mind.”
Her attention drops to the toy in my palm, and curiosity lights her eyes.
I extend my hand, offering the dragon. “This is Quinn’s. Blake made it for her birthday, but today, she got a little rough with it, and I fear the wing took some damage…” I trail off, suddenly aware of how trivial this request must sound to someone who builds entire houses.
Emily takes the dragon, her calloused fingers brushing mine. The contact sends a fissure of awareness through me, but she doesn’t react as she turns the toy, examining the splintered wing with the same concentration she might give to a blueprint.
“Quinn said you can fix anything.” My hands disappear into my pockets, nerves prickling undermy skin. “I thought about gluing it, but the break is too jagged, and any repair would stand out.”
Her fingers trace the fracture with a gentleness that belies her strength. “I can fix it. I’ll take it home tonight and bring it back on Monday. Quinn won’t be able to tell it ever broke.”