“And if you miss, you’ll pose with Long Beak Silver for next year’s Pirate Festival flyers.”

“Done.”

“In Pop’s costume. Stinky Thorny Rock pirate hat and all.”

“Hells, yeah. Robinson! Bring me that blindfold.”

I turn to watch Robinson dash over to the dart board, but instead, I catch Max looking at my ass.

And he doesn’t realize I’m watching him watch me, so I roll my hips.

His brown eyes go the color of midnight, and his Adam’s apple bobs, which makes my skin tingle and my nipples tighten.

As if he can feel my body’s response, he lifts his eyes, catches me catching him, and steps back, right into Aunt Glory, who’s carrying a full tray of beer.

Was carrying a full tray of beer, I should say.

The pint glasses mostly bounce as Aunt Glory wobbles and loses her balance, beer spraying everywhere, the people around us scattering to get out of the way of the blast zone.

Max spins and grabs Aunt Glory, who’s tumbling into him. “Fuck. Shit. Sorry. Sorry.”

“Party foul,” Vinnie calls.

“Drinks on Max,” someone else yells.

“Free drinks! Free drinks!”

“Calm your tits, Albert.” Cooper’s leapt up onto the edge of the pool table. “You didn’t pay for drinks when you crashed the whole liquor shelf three years ago.”

“Didn’t replace the shelf either,” Grady adds.

“Oooh, snap,” Vinnie crows. “They’ve got you there.”

I squat and start grabbing the larger pieces of broken beer mugs off the floor while everyone debates if Max has to pay for a round of drinks. “Ignore them,” I tell him. “They make up house rules as much as Cooper does.”

He shoots me a look that I can’t interpret.

It could be thank you for helping.

Or it could be I wasn’t looking at your ass.

Or possibly it’s I’m a grown fucking man with a bank account the size of a mountain and I can pay for making your aunt drop a keg’s worth of beer on the floor. Shut up and let me be a growly bear.

And there’s not a single option that doesn’t make me want to grab him by the collar and haul him out the back door.

Possibly to tell him to quit being so grouchy.

But more likely because I want to kiss him.

Are my eyes going dark?

Considering I can’t quite catch my breath or look away from him and my mouth is suddenly dry and a familiar ache is pooling between my legs, I’d bet yes.

Yes, my pupils are probably dilating and oh, crap, I’m licking my lips.

I’m licking my lips and holding eye contact with Max over spilled beer and broken pint glasses and I want to haul him up by his collar and shove him against the wall and kiss him until I can’t breathe.

Bad idea, a voice that sounds like Long Beak Silver whispers deep inside my brain.

One corner of Max’s lips tilts up, and my uterus faints dead away in a swoon. “Fucking town,” he mutters before he drops his gaze to the ground and gets back to grabbing larger pieces of broken glass to set on Aunt Glory’s tray.

I gulp hard and do the same.

Not the part about muttering about the fucking town.

I love this town.

But the part about picking up.

Luca and Henri and Sloane squat and help us while Aunt Glory’s server appears with a mop, and Sloane is shooting me looks the whole time.

Yeah.

She knows.

I couldn’t stop this crush on Max any more than I could stop a cannonball.

It’s not five minutes before it’s like the beer was never spilled at all.

Cooper misses his trick shot, but he still beats me in the game. Sloane leaps in and challenges Trevor to a game before I have to decline a rematch from my brother, and I realize Max is gone.

Brooks and Mackenzie have headed out. So have Darren and Tanesha. Half the locals.

Grady and Annika are slipping on coats too.

Cooper flings an arm around me. “Need me to buy you a consolation prize, TJ?”

“I let you have that one to build up your confidence.”

“You’re a giver.”

“I am.”

We both crack up.

“Thanks for the entertainment. Again.” Annika stops and hugs us both. Cooper and Grady do their man-hug before Grady smothers me in a hug too.

“If Cooper’s being an ass and keeping you from what you want, let me know,” Grady whispers. “I’ll keep him distracted.”

I love my brothers. Both of them. “Shut up. Winners before sinners.”

He snorts in laughter. “Now you’re being ridiculous.”

“Go on, go home with your wife to your goat.”

“Just saying, TJ. Regrets are hard and opportunities are rare.” He ruffles my hair and turns to pull Annika away from Cooper, who’s trying to steal her for a dance on the non-existent dance floor.

“Rematch, Cooper?” Robinson flashes three darts at us.

“You’re on, dude.”

And here it is.

My opportunity to sneak out into the night.

Head home.

See if Max’s lights are on.

Do something bad.

Or possibly really, really good.

Is this what I’ve been waiting for the universe to deliver?

Or am I misreading everything merely because I want to?

Either way, I know what I want to do.

And tonight, I’m doing it.

19

Max

Anxiety has been a part of my life since before I knew the word for it. But tonight’s anxiety is a different kind of anxious.

I’m counting my steps by four. Doing four sets. Turning ninety degrees. Counting four sets of four until I turn again as I pace around the statue and fountain—dry for the winter—in the center of this little garden behind the shops on Blackbeard Avenue.

I think the pizza place is close by. Maybe the inn. I don’t know.

I just know I can’t stay in the bar, and I don’t want to go back to my place.

I don’t want to be alone, but I don’t want to be with my teammates.

One. Two. Three. Four.

One. Two. Three. Four.

“Rawk! If you’re gonna jump, just jump, motherfucker! Rawk!”

The parrot flies from one corner post of the iron fence lining the garden on two sides to another, then to the buildings bracketing the other two sides, pacing with me.

I stop and glare at it. “What’s that, Long Beak Silver? Timmy fell down the well?”

He tilts his head and goes silent.

“Your father was a studmuffin and your mother smells of Kangapoo.” I don’t know. I’m making it up. I just want the damn bird to quit with the cussing. He’s annoying the fuck out of me.

And don’t at me about my language. I don’t fuck in front of the kids, okay?

“Rawk! Kangapoo gives your down under a shine! Rawk!”

So the bird’s seen the commercials for the shampoo Luca shills.

Awesome.

I shake my head and start walking again. One. Two. Three. Four.

“Max?”

“Jesus.”

“No, just Tillie Jean.” She tilts her head just like the damn parrot did a minute ago, not outright flirting, not leaving either. Tonight, she remembered her coat on the way out of the bar. I almost ask why she’s out alone, then remember we’re in Shipwreck. It’s not the same as wandering city streets alone near midnight.