God, those eyes. Had they always been that blue? Not sky blue, too pale. Not ocean blue, too blue. They were the impossible, glowing blue of water lit from within.
And just like that, I was back on the lake at sixteen, knees knocking in a kayak, both of us staring at the aquamarine shimmer beneath us.
“This is so cool,” he had said, leaning closer. “I had forgotten how blue it was. It looks like you.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing,” he’d muttered, then whispered so softly I almost missed it. “So pretty.”
I’d pretended I didn’t hear him.
But this Max McKinnon, the one I was staring at, wasn’t the boy from my childhood. He was a man.
And he lookeddangerous.
“Mackenzie.” My mom’s voice was far away, like she was calling me from the bottom of a tunnel. She jabbed me in the ribs, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“What?” I yelped, too loud, heart racing like I’d just been caught doing something I shouldn’t. She followed my gaze and raised her brows. “Is that him?”
I tried to sound normal but failed. “Uh… yeah. Yes. That’s him.”
Fuck. I was stuttering.
Her lips curved knowingly. “Oh, I see. Igetit now.”
“It’s not like that,” I blurted. “He’s just my friend.” I was already looking anywhere but his arms.
“Mmhmm,” she said, amused. “So not future son-in-law material? Because if he were, I wouldn’t complain. He’ssupercute.”
Jesus Christ.
“Oh my God, Mom.” My cheeks were on fire.
I watched him grab his Atlanta Braves cap from the truck bed and quickly flip it backwards on his head. His eyes scanned the parking lot, stopping briefly before moving on.
“He’s looking for you,” Mom whispered. “Let’s go.”
I trailed behind her, stomach flipping, as Max swung his duffel bag onto his shoulder, locked the truck, and spotted me. In an instant, he was moving toward me, all warmth and confidence, arms wide. He wrapped me in a hug so tight I could barely breathe.
“Max!” I protested. “You’re going to break my spine!”
He set me down slowly, his hands skimming my waist a fraction longer than necessary, and gave me a smile that made my knees threaten mutiny.
My pulse was a drum in my throat. He smelled like summer, a mixture of salt and sun, and I wanted to drown in it.
When he turned to my mom, recognition sparked in his eyes. “Wow, is this your mom?”
“Yes, I’m her mom,” she said, stretching out a hand.
“I’m a hugger, Ms. Hamill,” he grinned, pulling her in.
I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. My mother giggled.
Giggled.
I yanked him back.
“Okay, that’s enough.” My fingers curled around his arm, warmed by the muscle there.
