Maddie hated to admit that Libby had a point, but she wasn’t about to convince one of his oldest friends that she didn’t believe his intentions were entirely honorable. “You really don’t have to stay if you have other stuff to do.”

Libby reached for Thomas. “There’s nothing I’d rather do.”

Mac couldn’t believe it had finally happened to him, but he suspected he’d probably fallen in love with Maddie at some point in the last twenty-four hours. Since he’d never been in love before, he couldn’t say for sure. But he hadn’t ever felt anything even close to what happened to him when she looked at him with those caramel eyes that gave away her every emotion, especially those she didn’t want him to see.

He’d never given much thought to being a father. He’d just assumed that, like the true love other people went crazy over, it wasn’t going to happen for him, and he’d been fine with that. But now he was imagining playing baseball with Thomas and teaching him how to fish and drive a boat and throw a football. How could it have happened so fast? That was the part he didn’t get.

After nearly thirty-five entanglement-free years, here he was wrapped in a net so tight it should’ve been strangling him. Instead, as he steered the bike toward North Harbor, all he felt was exhilaration and determination to do whatever it took to make it work. She said she didn’t want it—didn’t want him—but he’d show her how wrong she was. He knew she felt the same way about him. He knew it. Now he just had to find a way to convince her that his intentions were sincere.

A stab of fear nearly knocked him off the bike. What if he couldn’t do it? What if she was just too scarred from past hurts to take a chance on him? What if he’d waited all this time to find her only to lose her before he ever had her? That couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let it.

Shaking off those unpleasant thoughts, he took a right turn into the hotel parking lot.

On the spacious front porch, decorated with white wicker furniture and pots that exploded with colorful, fragrant blooms, guests enjoyed morning coffee and a pristine view of North Harbor. Entering the hotel was like taking a step back in time: dark paneling on the walls and ceiling, potted palms, Victorian-era furniture and well-worn carpet. Large ceiling fans kept the harbor breeze moving through the lobby, dining room and lounge that made up the spacious first floor.

A sweeping staircase led to the second floor, and from that a small stairway took guests to the third floor. No elevators, no air conditioning and not a television or telephone to be found. Mac’s mother, who managed the hotel, believed in providing a place where guests could truly escape the rigors of modern-day life.