Well, that might be second to all the wine tasting stops.
"Oh, Sadie. You have to try this one," Mal says, holding up a sample of a rosé—probably our fifth or sixth sample-size pour at this station.
Taking the small, clear plastic cup from my sister, I tip the sweet and tangy liquid to my lips. It has hints of strawberry and something a little herbal, with a delightfully smooth finish.
"That is amazing. Should we get one to share?" Wrapping my fingers around the stem of the bottle, the blush liquid inside swirls slightly. It has a beautiful, vintage-looking label—something you’d expect to see in Gatsby, very chic.
"I’ll grab you a few for girls' nights while you’re in town." Sebastian winks at me, pulling his wallet out and stepping toward the cashier.
Mal links her arm through mine, and I drain the rest of the wine from the tasting cup. "Five minutes, little lady," she whispers in my ear. "Do you remember how to shuck an oyster?"
I slip out of her hold, crossing my arms. "Yes, Mallory. I’ve been doing it since before I could tie my shoes."
She nods with a wickedly devious smile on her face. "Okay, so you don’t need me to stick around then? To chaperone?" Mal pulls me close to her once more. "Because I think I’m going to take my baby daddy home. And you’re going to go have fun with that hottie that’s clearly into you."
"We’re just friends." I tighten my grasp on my crossbody, reminding more than my sister where we stand—reminding myself.
"Yeah, okay. Seb’s my best friend too, no offense."
"Ugh, fine." I squeeze my sister, releasing her into Seb’s awaiting arms. "Don’t be a fool, wrap your—"
He salutes me. "Got it, Sade. Same goes for you."
Walking away before I change my mind about this whole adventure, I replay my sister's words in my mind. Max is flirty, butinto me? I’m not sure. It’s difficult to tell if this is just how he is in general or if it’s specific to me. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to him. He’s probably the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, and that’s saying something—I work with professional athletes.
Sleeping with him, heck even just kissing him, is a bad idea, though. I’m leaving, even if Levi won’t have me back. The jobs I’m qualified for aren’t in Mage Hollow. And yeah, summer flings are something my roommate boasts about when she spends time at the Cape, but I’ve never had one.
Dodging a group of teenagers near the edge of the oyster tent, I step inside, scanning the space for Max.
"Boo." Max’s hands wrap around my shoulders, and his breath coasts across my neck as he whispers into my ear. "You looking for me, Sade?"
My skin tingles from the proximity, heat pooling low in my belly. If my body could get the memo regarding summer flings, it would be great.
"Yeah." I turn so I’m facing my new friend—old friend—I don’t know anymore. "You smell… fishy."
Max chuckles. "Worse things than lobster cologne. Mabel didn’t give me time to go home and change."
He shrugs as I take in his appearance. Max’s style is effortless—comfortable. He looks relaxed, from his boat shoes and flat-front navy chino shorts to the soft grey t-shirt that hugs his impossibly large biceps. Not at all like he just worked all day serving food in a hot tent. His hair curls around the ends, as if he intentionally styled it, when somehow I know he didn’t.
"Are you checking me out, Sade?" Max’s eyes roam my face.
"Definitely not." I smile. "Just wondering why you wanted me to meet you here."
Max places his hand at the small of my back, leading me to one of the round, linen covered high top tables. There’s a laminated menu in the center next to a blue vase with a single pink rose.
"Do you like oysters?" Max plucks the menu off the table, leaning closer so we can both see it. "I was thinking we could do the tasting, but if this isn’t your vibe, we can find something else."
I beam at him. Logically, I know he has no idea how perfect this is. But part of me wants to pretend he planned it just for me. "I love them. My favorite food of all time."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I mean, you can’t really live in Mage Hollow and not like them, right?" I flip the menu over, my shoulder bumping Max’s arm slightly.
"Um, yeah," he hesitates.
I push down on the menu, bringing it back to the table, and spin toward him. "Max O’Reilly, do you not like oysters?"
He shakes his head. "No, I’ve just never had one."
