Page 43 of A Line in the Sand
Max’s gut churned. “Even?”
“You said you wanted to help me to make up for firing me, remember?”
Oh right. That’s why he’d done it. Somehow Max’s noble intention kept slipping his mind. “I don’t mind spending more time with you and your family this weekend. Wouldn’t it be unrealistic if your boyfriend just disappeared?”
“Clearly you haven’t met my most recent ex,” Molly said. She laughed, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes.
A strange combination of jealousy and concern stirred inside Max.Don’t ask. It’s none of your business.“Wait a minute. What does that mean? Did someone hurt you?”
“No.” Molly shook her head, cheeks flaring pink. “Well, yes. But not physically. It’s not important, really.”
“I think it is,” he countered. “Feelings matter, Molly.”
Herfeelings mattered. They mattered more to Max than he really understood. Ursula wasn’t the only one digging herself into a hole. Since the moment he’d first set eyes on Molly, Max had been inexplicably drawn to her. And the more he got to know her, the more he realized why. Sometimes Max thought they might be flip sides of the same coin—opposite at face value, but the same in ways that truly mattered.
Molly was sand and sea and windswept dunes. And every time he was anywhere near her, he felt like he was drowning all over again.
She took a deep breath, and when she let it out, there was a quiver in her bottom lip. It was the tiniest possible display of emotion, but it was enough for Max to realize that she was letting down her guard and inviting him in.Finally.
Her eyes went glossy and she whispered, barely loud enough to be heard over the ocean’s roar—just a single word that thrummed inside Max like a heartbeat. “Wilson.”
He forgot all about pancakes and puppies and the fact that she’d reduced him to a town villain with a single signature cupcake and a legion of dogs dressed as shellfish. None of that mattered right now. He just wanted to close his eyes, press his lips to hers and slip under again, to a place where everything was loose and fluid and deep, dreamy blue.
Max planted his hand on the weathered wood piling at Molly’s back and leaned toward her. She rose to meet him halfway, eyes glittering like beach glass.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth.
Max felt like he was floating on his back in the middle of the ocean without a care in the world as he reached toward Molly and brushed the sea spray from her lips with a tender touch of his thumb. He wanted to bottle this moment, like a handwritten message cast out to sea, so he could come back to it again and again—the delicious burn of anticipation, the promise of what came next. He remembered an old sea myth he’d read once in one of the dusty hardbound books in his uncle’s study: a kiss from a mermaid would protect a sailor from drowning. Some even said such a kiss could grant the ability to breathe underwater. Ridiculous, really. A myth was, by its very nature, false.
But the pounding of Max’s heart told him he just might be a believer as his mouth lowered toward hers. Someone groaned, and he realized it had been him, and then there was no more thinking. No more remembering. No more pretending. There was only the softness of Molly’s lips brushing against his, and her breathy little sigh of surrender, and the salty sweet taste of relief. Max felt like he’d been waiting to kiss her for years instead of days…possibly even a lifetime.
But apparently, he’d have to wait a little longer.
“Oh, hey! It’s you,” a voice boomed nearby.
Seriously?What now?Had no one on this island ever heard of boundaries before?
Max dragged his eyes open just in time to see Molly leap away from him like they’d just been caught making out under the pier. Which they sort of had…
Almost.
Max gritted his teeth and turned to see who had just interrupted them. A lanky, sandy-haired kid with a surfboard tucked under his arm pointed at Max.
“It’s you,” he said again. He nodded and his face split into a wide grin. “Nice abs, dude.”
Max glanced down at his midsection, which was still thoroughly covered by both a shirt and theI Pancake My Eyes Off Youapron. His gaze slid toward Molly, but her attention had snagged on something in the distance, beyond the shelter of the pier.
“I’m sorry.” Max narrowed his eyes at the stranger. “Have we met?”
“Um, Max?” Molly said. The color seemed to be draining from her face.
“No, we haven’t. Not in real life, anyway,” the surfer said with a laugh.
What did that even mean?
Ursula, knee-deep in her hole at this point, batted another clump of sand at Max’s legs. That was the final straw. He couldn’t take it anymore—the digging, the interruptions, the greater population of Turtle Beach stopping to fawn all over his pancakes. Not to mention his constant worry about the aquarium and all the weird activities his uncle kept roping him into. This island was going to be the death of him. Molly probably should have let him drown.
He dragged a hand through his hair, tugging hard at the ends. “Listen, if you don’t mind, we were kind of in the middle of some—”
