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giggled.
    “Don’t let Dad and Jep hear you say that,” Matt said from behind. Emily jumped and spun around, and Matt eyed his brother. His mere presence filled the room. “We pretended to be rescue swimmers and launched over the rail a few times ourselves. Maybe more than a few.” He turned to her, and his gaze was quiet but steady. Daring, almost.
    Emily’s heart leaped. For a second, he looked like a young, eight-year-old Matt.
    Owen Malone walked into the living room. Tall and still handsome, he’d retained his Coast Guard physique through the years. And although in his sixties, he still had quite a lot of chestnut hair, sprinkled with silver, and kept it cut short. He draped an arm over her shoulders.
    “So what are you kids talking about?”
    Emily’s gaze shot to Matt’s, and her eyes widened. She cleared her throat. “Just...old times,” she said, trying not to laugh.
    Owen gave her a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad you’re home, Emily,” he said. “And you’re welcome over here anytime.”
    Emily liked his sincerity. Owen Malone was indeed a gentle soul. “Thanks, Mr. Malone.” She cocked her head. “I really like your skin.” She looked up at him and smiled wide. “Reminds me of a perfectly aged copper penny.”
    Owen laughed. “Is that so?”
    She nodded. “It is.”
    “Do you always do that?”
    Her eyes moved directly to Matt’s—he was intently watched the interaction. For a split second, his face softened.
    She knew exactly what he was talking about. “Yes, I do. I like to find something right off the bat appealing about a person and let them know what it is.” She shrugged. “I find it a rather useful bonding agent. Plus, it lets people know I pay attention to them.”
    Nathan laughed, and Owen gave her a gentle hug. “I think it’s a fine quality, Emily.”
    “Thank you.” She looked at Matt. Just as she could see sadness in Nathan’s eyes, there was something altogether different in Matt’s. Almost feral. Yet she also felt like he saw completely inside of her.
    “Let’s head to the kitchen, then,” Owen said, and tugged on Emily’s shoulders. “Eric will be home any minute with supper.”
    Emily allowed Owen to lead her through the foyer and into the wide-open kitchen, where Jep stood in front of an enormous white enamel stove, stirring something in a big white enamel pot. Still wearing those baby blue coveralls, he now donned a red apron. Jep had to be all of eighty years young, and although his hair was now silver throughout, he had plenty of it.
    “I like your hair, Jep,” she announced. “The way it flips up by your neck and over your ears. Reminds me of the feathers of a snowy owl.”
    Jep stared at her from the stove. “An owl, you say?”
    She grinned and nodded. Nathan again laughed.
    “Well, I suppose that’s all right. You like potatoes, missy?” Jep called loudly from the stove. He glanced over his shoulder at Emily. She liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Round here we eat lots of potatoes. Good solid Irish fare.”
    Emily patted her stomach. “Yes, sir. I love them.”
    “Would go really nice with pie,” Jep added.
    Emily laughed, and just as Owen was leading her toward a set of French doors that led out onto a massive veranda overlooking the marsh, another male voice stopped them in their tracks.
    “Holy God, in no way is that little Emily Quinn!”
    Emily whirled around and saw Matt’s younger brother, Eric, smiling wide. Holding a brown paper bag in one arm and a plastic bag filled with two-liter sodas in the other, he set them both on the counter and headed straight for her.
    “Excuse me, Owen,” Eric teased, moving in front of his dad and throwing his arms around Emily in a tight hug. He pulled back and looked down at her, grinning. “You used to be all knees and elbows!”
    Emily laughed, holding him away and inspecting the youngest Malone.
    “Yeah, and you used to be missing your two front teeth.” She studied him