“What about us?”
Max rolled his eyes at the stiffness in his brother’s voice. “You seem to like her.”
“Of course I like her. She’s pretty and sweet. But…she’s out of my league. I’m not going to make that mistake again.”
Scowling, Max raised his gaze from his coffee to his brother’s face. “What the hell are you talking about?” Jenn was nothing like Elliott’s ex-wife, as far as Max could tell. She was modest and had a quiet strength about her…along with a lot of nervousness.
“We went out and we had a nice time. That’s it. No big deal.”
“You gonna ask her out again?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why?”
Elliott shook his head. “I don’t want to date someone I’ll have to worry about. Whether she’s happy or bored or needing something better. I need someone who’s not so…beautiful.”
“She seems really nice.”
“She is.”
“So you’re going to set her aside just because of how she looks?”
His glare was so hot it nearly singed Max’s eyebrows. “I don’t mean she’s good-looking. I mean she’s beautiful, and that’s too much for me right now.”
“All right,” Max offered, holding up his hands in appeasement. “I got it. Just don’t start crying.”
“Jesus.” Elliott coughed in a half laugh. “I’ll try to hold back.”
“Thanks.”
“What about you? You think you can talk about Chloe without getting choked up? Because you looked pretty damn starry-eyed last night.”
“Ha,” he laughed, even as his thoughts turned serious.
“She doesn’t seem like the kind of girl you usually date. She’s a little…too normal.”
“Yes.” His heart turned over at the words. “She is. She totally is.” Chloe. The thought of her name lodged in his chest and shook there like a crazed bird. She was normal, and she was earthy and sexy and curvy and calm.
And Max was headed back to the damn sea in a few weeks. The sea and people he’d known for years. Friends who had never seen anything past the show he put on for them. Nobody out there on the water was like Chloe.
“I’d better hit the shower,” he said, just as a man’s shout floated through the front windows. When he glanced over, Max’s head swam with discomfort. A few seconds later, he found himself still staring blearily toward the windows. Then a second shout came, this one a different voice.
Suddenly worried about the women, Max stood at the same moment Elliott did, and they rushed for the porch together. The sight that greeted them was…strange. Alarming, yes. But not dangerous.
Two photographers stood on the sand about twenty feet away, their cameras pointed in the direction of the women’s cabin. Another man held a professional video camera and panned the beach around them. All of them were weighted down with film and extra equipment. The videographer even had a steady-cam system. These people were a familiar sight to Max. Paparazzi.
For a moment, he thought it had something to do with Genevieve. Ridiculous, of course. He hadn’t seen her in nine months. And why would she be here, anyway? But Genevieve’s insane lifestyle had been his only experience with paparazzi. Luckily, he’d stood on the sidelines for most of that, just as he did now.
“What the hell?” he muttered.
Keeping an eye on the cameramen, Max stepped barefoot onto the sand and stalked toward the other cabin. The cameras began to click when his foot touched Chloe’s porch. “What the hell?” he repeated with a little more strength as he raised a fist to pound on the door.
It didn’t open, so he knocked again. The sun bounced off the closed door and stabbed into his eyes like knives.
Finally, it snapped open. “Max,” Chloe said, a tension pulling her voice lower than normal.
“What’s going on? Are you okay?”