He took his time turning and once he did, he started at the shoes.

They were black and showed off bright red toenails. The straps wrapped sexily around trim ankles and led the eye right up to smooth, toned calves. The heels matched the black polka dots on the white skirt that thankfully didn’t start until mid-thigh, and showed off more tanned skin.

He straightened from his kneeling position in one of the boats as his eyes kept moving up past the skirt to the bright red belt that accentuated a narrow waist and then to the silky black tank that molded to a pair of perfect breasts.

He was fully anticipating her lips being bright red to go with that belt and her toenail polish. God, he loved red lipstick. And high heels. In any color.

But before he could get to those lips, she used them, to say, “Oh, dammit, it’s you.”

Owen’s gaze bypassed her mouth to fly to her eyes. Because he’d know that voice anywhere.
Madison Allain was home.

A day early.

Not that an extra day would have helped him prepare. He’d been thinking about her visit for a week and was still as wound tight about it as he’d been when Sawyer, his business partner and cousin, had told him that she was coming home. For a month.

Owen stood just watching her, fighting back all of the first words that he was tempted to say.
Like, “Damn, you’re even more gorgeous than the last time I saw you.”

Or, “I haven’t put anyone in the hospital lately.”

Or, “I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

Just for instance.

She blew out a breath and now he did focus on her lips.

Yep, red. Terrific. That wasn’t going to make ignoring them any easier.

“I was hoping you were Sawyer,” she said, propping a hand on her hip.

Owen tossed the wrench he held into the toolbox at his feet. “Nope. Sorry.” So she wasn’t happy to see him. Big shocker. He hadn’t always been the perfect Southern gentleman around Maddie, that was for sure.

He wiped his hands on his jeans. Okay, he was supposed to be niceto her. That meant treating her like she was one of the tourists who frequented this dock. Polite. Friendly, but not I’ve-known-you-my-whole-life-and-kissed-you-a-whole-bunch friendly. Just mildly hey-how’s-it-goin’ friendly. So that she didn’t sell off her portion of the business that not only fed him and his other two partners, but that was their pride and joy. And the only thing he was really good at.

Nice. Polite. A little friendly—but not too much. He could do that.

Annoyed that within thirty seconds of seeing her again he was already thinking about kissing her, he kicked the toolbox, trying to slide it into the nook under the bow of the boat. Of course, he kicked it too hard and it tipped, spilling tools over the floor of the boat with loud clangs of metal against metal.

He shoved a hand through his hair. That was typical. Everything was an overreaction when it came to how he acted around Maddie. Even the little stuff. Certainly the big stuff. Always had been.

“Sawyer’s over at Ellie’s.” Owen pulled himself up out of the boat and onto the dock.

That took him about two feet closer to her and he instantly became aware that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Very aware as Maddie’s eyes tracked over his shoulders, chest and abs.
The heat that arrowed through him was unwelcome. Though not unexpected. There had always been this crazy chemistry between them. Key word: crazy.