My doorbell sounded at ten to seven.

Sparing a quick glance at the mirror, shaking out my nerves with a little dance as I fixed my hair and smacked my lips together. It'd been a while since I'd been on a first date, and though my nerves were slightly calmed by the fact that it was Ryan—someone I'd known more or less my whole life—that ease was counterbalanced by the knowledge that, at least in the short term, he wasn't sticking around town. This was likely nothing more than a summer fling for him, and while I was okay with that, I had to make sure to keep my emotions in check.

Hitching the chain of my purse over my shoulder, I made my way through the house until I reached the front door, opening it to see Ryan standing there patiently, his hands in his pockets.

At the sight of me, he grinned, and I couldn't help how my gaze fell to his lips. Over the last couple of days, I'd been too busy to dwell on the memory of us in his kitchen—our breaths mingling as the space between us dwindled. But now that we were face to face, the memory flooded back, accompanied by a glimmer of hope that if tonight went well, our next attempt at a kiss wouldn't be interrupted.

When my attention finally moved away from his mouth, I saw the rest of him was just as appealing. Wearing a short-sleeved button up, his physique was on full display. His shoulders were perfectly punctuated by his shirt, the chords of the muscles in his biceps and forearms looked flexed even though they weren't, and the chest beneath the material looked to mimic a washboard. It was a sight to see, honestly, and my stomach fluttered, momentarily wondering if he'd look as good out of the clothes.

My assumption? Definitely.

It was equally nice, however, that the effort I'd put into dolling myself up a bit had paid off. At least it seemed to be given the way Ryan's eyes trailed down the length of my body, particularly appreciating my bare legs where my skirt ended mid-thigh.

He must've noticed he was staring, as his gaze snapped back up to meet mine with a sheepish expression flooding his features. "Hey," he greeted. "Sorry, it's just... damn, you wear that skirt well."

A wry smile curved my lips. "No need to apologize, because I could say the same about you and that shirt."

"Thanks," he said, my flirting both surprising and pleasing him. "And while I'd love to continue standing here trading compliments, we should probably get going."

"For sure." I took a step back to slip into the cute pair of sandals I'd left at the door. "I actually had a bit of a rush right before closing the store today, so it looks like the tourists have come to town this weekend in droves."

"Good thing I thought ahead and booked a table then."

It was certainly the smart thing to do, because when Ryan pulled his car into the gravel parking lot outside of Dockside a few minutes later, the place looked packed.

"Sorry it's not anywhere more date-like," he said, having rounded the hood of the car to offer his hand as I clambered out of the passenger side.

"Trust me," I replied, squeezing his hand in reassurance, having not let go as we walked toward the entrance, "this is much better than some upscale joint."

He lifted a brow as he opened the door for me and motioned me ahead. "Really?"

"Yeah." I nodded, the ghost of a smirk growing. "Why? Is your usual type of woman someone who likes to be wined and dined?"

I silently chastised myself, clearly more out of practice with dating than I'd thought, but luckily, Ryan took it as the teasing comment I'd meant it to be. "No, actually. I tend to go for the girl-next-door type," he said, glancing my way with a glint in his gaze. He turned his attention to the hostess momentarily, but as she led us out onto the back patio, his hand fell to the base of my spine and he leaned in close. "Though I've come to learn that even down to earth women like to be wined and dined every once in a while."

The whisper of his words caused a flush to spread down my neck as we took our seats. "Well sure," I conceded once we were left alone to look over the menu, "but only on special occasions. First dates are stressful enough without having to worry about sitting in a posh place, wondering if you're using the right spoon."

He chuckled. "Fair enough."

"Plus, this place has character, views, and the best seafood in Maine—what more could I ask for?"

The character came from the décor—wooden tables, red and white checkered tablecloths, rope netting hanging from the ceilings inside, and kitschy fishing posters hanging from the walls. The waiters also all wore black t-shirts with fish puns on the back.

The view, however, was something tourists and locals alike found absolutely remarkable.

Where we were seated, the entire shoreline of Neptune Bay was visible. There was the boardwalk, the beaches, Wilma's, the marina, and then the people—merely specks to us—that made the view more than just a pretty picture. Plenty of boats were out on the water, amplifying the gently rolling waves toward the shore. A few clouds hovered in an otherwise blue sky, though at this hour, the real breathtaking aspect was the way the sun began to dip, reflecting on the ocean and creating an illuminated golden atmosphere.

"Oh, I remember the seafood," Ryan said, scanning the menu, "but it's been years since I've eaten here. What do you normally get?"

"I'm not too adventurous with my food, so I typically steer clear of the oysters, clams, and calamari, but all of their fish is good, and then the lobster is amazing."

"What about the crab cakes?" he asked, seeing it listed on the appetizer section. "Is that something you'd want to share?"

"Sure," I replied with a quick grin.

Our waiter for the night appeared then, and we asked for the crab cakes, as well as a glass of wine each before putting in our food orders. Me, a baked lobster tail and a side of mashed potatoes, and him, grilled haddock, scallops, and sweet potato fries.

A few minutes later, when our wine arrived, I took a sip before asking, "Do you typically come back to town in your off time? I mean, before this year."

"It depends," Ryan responded. "I definitely try to squeeze in a few weekends throughout the season when I can come back for a day or two—mainly around birthdays and the holidays. But during the summer, it's different. I never know how far the team will go in the playoffs, so I can't really plan ahead much except for July and August, and those are the months I like to travel. You know, go somewhere and explore with friends or treat my family to a vacation outside of this small town."

"Where's your favorite place been to travel?"

He thought about it for a second. "I'd probably say Italy a few summers ago. I flew everyone out to the coast and found this amazing private villa for us to all stay for two weeks. There was an amazing view, and it was somewhere everyone could enjoy. Whether Bowen wanted to build sandcastles and swim in the sea, or I wanted to explore the cobblestone streets with my parents, we could do it all."

"That sounds amazing."

"It definitely was."

"Though don't think I missed the little fact you dropped about paying for the entire thing, Mr. Moneybags," I teased.

Taking a drink of wine, he chuckled. "I'm sure you're well aware I don't exactly make a modest salary," he replied honestly, then shrugged nonchalantly. "I save a lot of it, but I figure treating the people who helped me reach that goal—what with all the equipment growing up, the numerous practices, and out of town games—is a good way to share the wealth."

The sentiment warmed my heart. "That's really admirable."

"Family is worth it," he commented, and I saw emotion cloud his features for a moment. Likely because his family in town had sadly shrunk by two, but before I could try and either offer comfort or change topics, he cleared his throat and continued. "But outside of bringing my family away on vacations, I usually find myself back here for at least a week or two every summer, especially since Bowen was born. I wanted to make sure I was a part of his life and not just the fun uncle that spent all his time hopping across the country."

"I wouldn't call hopping across the country for your job a bad thing," I pointed out. "And I'm sure Bowen watched your games all the time on TV growing up. He must've seen how hard you worked to be good at what you do."

The way his lips curved into a soft, genuine smile had a tingling of attraction shoot up my spine. "I appreciate the sentiment," he said. "It's just, I always wondered if others around town have seen me hopping in and out of town over the years and thought I was just coming back to save face. That I don't really care about the people here, which I do. My job just happens to be something I can't do in Neptune Bay.

"I can assure you nobody in town—at least no one worth giving two seconds of thought too—thinks that," I countered. "Hell, I left too after high school."

"But you came back after college."

"Because I was offered a job at the elementary school and I felt at ease with my decision to come back, not because there was any kind of obligation."

He opened his mouth, about to retort, but he second guessed himself and quickly closed it.

I felt my forehead crease with confusion. "What?"

"Nothing." He shook his head, but as I kept my gaze on him, lifting a brow, he relented. "It's just, well, you may not have come back because of any sort of obligation, but do you... do you think you're staying because of a sense of obligation to your family? With the store, I mean."

Taken aback by his words, I realized they hit home, especially after our conversation earlier in the week. Because while my decision to stay in Neptune Bay had everything to do with the people and the town itself, Ryan had a point about the store being an obligation I'd taken on, but I wasn't ready to face that yet. Not with my dad sick. Not with his future up in the air.

"Never mind. Don't answer that," he said, backtracking as he gulped down a decent amount of his wine. "Sorry I brought it up. I've just been thinking a lot over the last week about what I'm going to do at the end of the summer. With Bowen. With hockey."

This was news to me, because yes, while Bowen had been born and raised here, I figured the both of them leaving for Boston in August was a done deal.

"Oh," I said, letting his question to me drop by the wayside. "Are you... considering staying?"

He tapped his fingers slowly on his glass, dropping his gaze to the table. "I'm not sure," he replied. The confliction and indecision were clear in the way his brows pulled together and his nose wrinkled. "I have a year left on my current contract with the Knights, and I don't want to break that. I'm not ready to hang up my pads and skates, but I have no idea how I'm going to handle childcare for Bowen in Boston. If it's even possible considering how often I'm on the road."

"Have you talked to your parents about it?" I asked supportively. "Your coach or your team management? There must be other single parents or caregivers in the NHL."

"My coach knows about my situation, which means I'm assuming the Knights office does too, but I haven't reached out about plans for next season yet, no. My parents don't know what I'm thinking either. I haven't had the chance to talk to them about it."

"Well, as someone with no stakes in the situation, though I'll admit it'd be nice to have you and Bowen sick around town—" The corner of his lips lifted as he huffed out a small laugh. "—I'd think having those conversations would be the first step."

He hummed in agreement. "Sexy, compassionate, and smart. What's a woman like you doing out with a guy like me?"

Welcoming the turn in conversation, the teasing in his tone shot warmth through my body and I knew my cheeks were sporting a red hue as I replied, "I don't know. Maybe you just got lucky."

"Yeah," he murmured as our waiter approached with the food. "Lucky indeed."

***

Over dinner, the two of us kept the conversation lighter. More what do you think of the food and what are your hobbies outside work then how are you dealing with the problems in your life.

And it worked for us. I was reconnecting with someone I'd known my entire life, but at the same time, finding myself more and more attracted to him with every smile and teasing remark.

When our plates were clean and our wine glasses empty, the waiter returned to ask if we wanted dessert, and while I did love the chocolate brownies they served, I shook my head. Ryan followed suit, asking for the bill.

"Did you want to split it?" I asked, nodding to the bill the waiter placed in front of him a few moments later.

Pulling out his wallet, he waved me off. "I've got it, don't worry," he replied. "Think of it as payback for the cupcake you gifted Bowen on Monday."

"I wouldn't exactly call a lobster dinner a fair trade for a cupcake," I said teasingly. "But thank you."

"No problem." He sent me a quick grin, and once the tab was settled, we stood up to leave. "Now, how do you feel about a walk down the boardwalk?"

Considering I'd been thinking of ways to prolong this date, I nodded. "Sounds good to me."

The boardwalk spanned nearly the entirety of the shoreline and was most frequented by runners and tourists exploring the town, but locals weren't opposed to strolling along the wooden path when it wasn't packed. Like tonight. Dockside was located close to the west side, its entrance smack dab in the middle of the walkway, so as we exited the restaurant, we swung right, heading towards town.

Because we both knew the beach located a few minutes west was where teenagers typically congregated around a bonfire on Friday nights. After all, we'd spent many a night there back in the day ourselves.

Walking next to each other, there was no rush to our pace, and I couldn't help the way my lips curved up when Ryan gripped my hand with his. "Does Scout like the boardwalk?" I asked as we passed a woman jogging alongside her dog.

"He likes anything outdoors," he replied. "Normally when I come to town, I take him on these early morning runs that circle the town. You know, let him off his leash to follow me, and he absolutely loves them. I think because there's a lot more space and fresh air than there is in Boston."

"I'm sorry... you run through the entire town?"

He shot an amused glance my way. "Yeah, it's pretty much a match for the length I run on a treadmill for my daily workouts during the season." As if I needed another reminder of how fit he truly was. "But I haven't really had a chance to fit in any runs now that I have Bowen to look after. And don't get me wrong, Scout still gets all kinds of exercise playing with Bowen in the backyard and coming along on our adventures, but it's certainly been different."

"Then maybe this is your new normal," I offered, squeezing his hand.

"Yeah, maybe," he trailed off momentarily as we came to a set of stairs leading down to a fairly empty beach and headed down them. Sliding off our shoes once we hit the sand, we carried them in our free hands as we headed closer to the water. "Though speaking of a new normal, my mom mentioned she saw you at the Stitch and Bitch event she went to on Tuesday night Miss. I-don't-really-go-out."

"I'm out with you tonight, aren't I?" I countered with a teasing drawl.

He chuckled. "Touché."

"But yeah, Stitch and Bitch was fun. I think I just needed to pop the top off my hesitation around socializing again. It was my own thoughts holding me back, and the fact that I'd become much too comfortable in my house, knowing it was a safe space for me."

"My mom didn't let any embarrassing slip about me, did she?"

"Oh, you mean like how happy she was that you were excited for our date?" I jested.

"I wouldn't call that embarrassing," he remarked, owning it. "Just true."

A warm, salty breeze reached us as we neared the water, our toes sinking in the sand, though as I turned to face him, he surprised me with a spin move, causing me to laugh as his arms came around my shoulder. He pulled me into his chest and my body hummed, so I let myself revel in the feeling for a few minutes.

"You know," I started a few minutes later, "your mom wasn't the only one that had something interesting to say on Tuesday?"

"Oh?"

I turned in his arms, now face to face. Or face to chest. "When Mara found out I was going out with you, she mentioned that you had had a crush on me back when we were kids. Is that true?"

His brows lifted at the unexpected question. "Ah, well, yeah," he admitted, rubbing at his jaw sheepishly. "Once I hit about twelve or thirteen, I thought you were the coolest girl in school." I snorted at that, and he smiled. "Laugh all you want, but it was true. But I knew you only saw me as a friend, so I didn't see the point in saying anything. Especially as we started to drift apart in high school."

"And now?" I asked, looking up at him through my lashes. "How do you feel?"

Heat lit up his irises, and he gently caught a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear. "You're definitely making me feel something," he murmured. "And it's stronger than friendship, that's for damn sure."

"Ditto."

I wanted to shake my head at my lame response, but it didn't seem like Ryan cared much. He was solely focused on the fact that whatever was happening between us—whatever feelings were brewing—it wasn't one-sided.

He moved one hand, sliding his fingers into my hair, stroking his thumb slowly across my bottom lip and leaving a tingling path that begged to be kissed. Lowering his head so that his mouth hovered a hairsbreadth away from my own, he asked, "Can I?"

The bare minimum of a nod from me was all he needed, and when I gave it to him, his lips brushed softly against my own. Then they did so again. And again.

He kissed me—or rather, we kissed one another—and it was no short peck on the lips. No, it was a fiery back and forth, careening off the deep end fast as our tongues stroked against one another in a way that had me clutching at him tighter. His hips, his arms, his shoulders, his arms. Anywhere my hands could reach.

Like we weren't standing on a public beach, where anyone could be watching.

I was pretty sure I let out a whimper as heat coiled in the pit of my stomach, and I knew I heard a groan of satisfaction leave Ryan's lips, because it caused a field of goosebumps to rise on my skin. My body arched further into his, if that was even possible, and the deep, hot kisses began to fade into slow and languid ones.

Which were just as good, maybe better.

There came a point, however, where I ran out of air, and was forced to pull myself back—out from my dazed state of lust—though Ryan didn't go far. His lips sought out my neck, trailing kisses over the skin there before nuzzling into the space.