A few boats bobbed in their slips, ropes groaning with the tide. Farther out, seagulls wheeled and cried over the glittering surface. The air smelled like salt, diesel, and something greener—marsh grass baking in the heat.

Bonnie trotted ahead a few paces, then circled back, her tongue lolling. Her ears flicked toward a sound—a metallic clank, followed by a muttered curse.

Up ahead, tucked near the end of the dock, a battered fishing boat listed slightly in its slip. Engine cover off. Tools scattered across the weathered planks like they'd been thrown in frustration. A blond head bent low over the exposed motor, shoulders tense, fingers black with grease.

The sun caught his face—sharp cheekbones, wind-blown hair, and a smear of oil across his jaw. But it was his eyes that stopped her. Blue. Cold. Narrowing the second they landed on her, sliding from her face to the gold chain at her throat like it told him everything he needed to know.

Bonnie sat, tail swishing slowly against the wood, looking between the two of them like she was waiting to see how this would go.