MAX
The bell above the door jingled as I walked in, the smell of paper and coffee hanging in the air. I walked straight to the front desk and asked the guy behind the counter where the children’s section was.
He pointed without thinking. “Aisle six. You’ve gone too far if you see the self-help books.” He laughed at his own joke.
There were fairies, astronauts, and animals with big eyes on every shelf. There was a woman nearby, flipping through a book. She looked up and smiled politely. I smiled back and happened to catch the title of the book she was holding: Unicorns, Undead, and Other Dating Disasters.
I snorted under my breath and kept going, filing it away as one of those things you couldn’t unsee.
“Shit,” I muttered, as I looked at the wall of covers in front of me. There are a million books here. How am I ever going to figure out which to pick? Does Lucy like dragons? Space? “Maybe unicorns…?” I said aloud. “No idea.”
I squatted down, elbows on my knees, and stared at a shelf that looked just like the others I’d already glared at.
Practice had been brutal that morning, coach in no mood to spare us so close to a big game.
My shoulders and legs were sore. And now here I was, looking for a last-minute gift for my niece, because she had high expectations of her favourite uncle.
I sighed. Loudly.
“You’re sighing pretty loudly over here,” a voice said, smooth and clear, with something that made the air shift. “Need any help?”
I froze, a little embarrassed that someone had heard me talking to myself.
A woman’s voice. And was that an accent?
Unless my ears were shot from practice. Normally, I would’ve turned right away, showing her the grin that always worked for me, maybe tossed in some easy banter.
Any other day, sure. But after a brutal practice and this even more brutal shopping mission?
I wasn’t sure I had it in me. I was drained.
Still, no point in being a jerk. I forced a smile onto my face and turned.
And just about forgot how to breathe.
Standing in front of me was a woman who didn’t look like she belonged in a regular bookstore – too sharp-eyed for that, like she noticed things most people missed.
Her green eyes were intense in a way that made it hard to look anywhere else, and a single chestnut strand kept escaping the knot at her neck, stubborn and wild, like it had a mind of its own.
She was holding a notebook under one arm.
She wasn’t flashy at all. She was beautiful in a way that hit me right in the chest and knocked the wind out of me.
Holy shit. Those eyes.
I realized I’d been staring for too long when she raised an eyebrow and smiled, repeating herself. “So, do you need any help?”
And there it was again: the accent. It sounded British. It hit like a cliché out of a movie, but damn if it wasn’t sexy.
Before I could get my voice to work, I noticed someone coming toward us.
“Oh my God!” A teenage boy ran up, wearing a hockey jersey and already holding his phone. “You’re Max Finnegan! Dude, you are so good. I love you, man. Can I please get a selfie and an autograph?”
I forced myself to stop looking into those green eyes, giving her a quick, silent apology before smiling at the kid. “Sure thing, bud.”
I signed the jersey, posed for the photo, and sent the kid on his way.
When I turned back, the woman was watching me warily. She looked curious, but not very impressed.
“So, what are you famous for?” she said, tilting her head a little.
“Hockey,” I replied, trying not to sound like I was bragging.
She had a mischievous look in her eyes. “Field or ice?”
I held my chest like I’d just been mortally wounded. “Baby, please. Ice, of course.”
Her lips twitched. “It’s Emma. Not ‘baby’.”
I grinned, happy to have gotten a reaction. “Emma. Nice. I’m Max Finnegan. People usually just call me Finn.”
“What’s the matter with Max?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Nothing at all,” I said, leaning in slightly. “But Finn sounds better when people yell it from the stands.”
Emma made a small sound in her throat, as if she was half amused, half unconvinced. Then she glanced at the shelves. “So, do you need help picking out a book?”
I narrowed my eyes playfully. “Why do you think I need help?”
“Well,” she said dryly, “you’ve been staring at these shelves for several minutes, and you looked pretty distressed. So it’s a safe assumption.”
I leaned back against the shelf, letting a grin spread across my face. “So… you were watching me.”
Her eyes rolled, sharp and deliberate, but the slightest curve tugged at her lips before she could hide it. “Wow, that’s so arrogant. I’m just trying to help.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. It felt so easy and real. The fire in her voice didn’t put me off; if anything, it drew me in. She wasn’t intimidated and wasn’t playing along like most people did. And damn if that eye roll wasn’t the cutest thing I’d seen in a long time.
“Well, maybe I’m arrogant,” I said, grinning even wider. “Or maybe you just couldn’t help keeping an eye on me.”
She gave me a look that might have withered a less confident man. “Or maybe I couldn’t help but notice the tall Canadian talking to himself about unicorns.”
“Busted. Okay, fine. I’m looking for a book for my niece. She’s turning ten. Loves to read. That’s literally all I know.”
Emma’s face softened. “That helps to narrow it down a bit. What kind of girl is she?”
“She’s smart. Way smarter than me, which isn’t saying much,” I admitted. “She likes to draw, and she once told me she wants to ‘travel the whole world’.”
Emma nodded her head. “Adventurous then. Maybe something with a heroine she can relate to. A girl who’s clever, brave. Someone who discovers new worlds. Have you tried Fablehaven? Or perhaps a book by Catherine Fisher. She writes wonderful adventure stories for children that age.”
I was surprised by the way her eyes lit up. She wasn’t just talking about books; she was alive in this place, like the shelves and the stories were part of her.
“You sound like you know your stuff,” I said.
“I should hope so,” she replied, with a confident look on her face that made me smile. “Otherwise I’ve wasted far too many years hanging around in shops like this.”
I moved closer to her, and that’s when it hit me – her scent.
She smelled like flowers, but it wasn’t sweet or obvious.
It was subtle, but sharp enough to get my attention.
Before I knew it, it wrapped around my head, and the air felt different.
Clean and subtle – nothing like the heavy perfume I was used to being ambushed by.
It caught my attention instead of overwhelming it, and somehow that made it worse.
“Could be worse hobbies,” I said, ignoring the urge to breathe her in deeper. “At least you don’t strike me as the comic book type.”
“And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”
“Just saying, you have… serious reader energy. The kind of person who would correct someone if they butchered an author’s name.”
She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes a little – a challenge. “Fine then. How do you pronounce this?” She picked up a book from a table nearby and pointed to the author’s name.
I blinked. “Ee-oyn?”
The tiniest smirk tugged at her mouth. “I rest my case.”
I laughed at myself, shaking my head. “Brutal.”
“Come on,” she said quickly. “Let’s get you sorted before you embarrass yourself again.”
I followed her, impressed by her confidence as she scanned the spines. She pulled one out without any hesitation, flipped it over once and then put it in my hand. Her fingers brushed mine. I swear I felt that touch in every part of my body. I smiled to try and hide it, but my heart was racing.
“This one. She’ll love it.”
I glanced at the cover, though I couldn’t have told you the title if my life depended on it. All I could think about was those eyes and her touch on my skin. “I’ll take your word for it.”
I grinned wider, enjoying the spark of challenge on her face. “Okay, if you’re such an expert, let me guess what you read.”
She crossed her arms and said, “Oh, this should be good.”
“You’re definitely a romance reader,” I declared, nodding wisely.
“Romance?”
“Yeah. I can see it. Long baths, candles, books with shirtless dudes on the cover.”
She gave a short, incredulous laugh. “You think you’ve got me figured out, don’t you?”
“Totally. Nailed it.”
“You couldn’t be more wrong.”
I leaned in closer and lowered my voice in mock seriousness. “Crime, then. You’ve got that sharp, detective’s-eye look about you. You probably solve the mystery before you hit chapter three.”
“Better,” she said, tilting her head, “but not quite.”
I put on my best fake-serious face. “Okay. Okay. Fantasy then. Powerful dragons, magical kingdoms… secretly hoping you’ll find a wardrobe that takes you to another world.”
Emma gave a short, amused laugh and shook her head. “I think you’ve got me confused with your niece.”
That completely caught me off guard, and I laughed so hard that other customers looked our way. “Okay, fine, you win. What do you read, then?”
“I’ll let you figure it out,” she said lightly, her green eyes flashing with amusement. “There are still a few genres you haven’t mentioned.”
I was about to say something, but the way her lips curled into a smile stopped me.
For a moment, our eyes locked. Hers were the sharpest green I’d ever seen, steady and unflinching, like she was daring me to come up with something clever.
I couldn’t stop grinning, surprised that a stranger in a bookstore had me so intrigued.
And what shocked me the most was how easy it was to talk to her.
I didn’t have to think too hard, didn’t have to force anything.
The teasing just happened. I couldn’t remember the last time a conversation had felt so easy.
And I wanted more of it.
But then the giggling derailed everything.
Two girls came striding down the aisle. I heard them before they reached me. Both of them were probably in their early twenties, with wide-open eyes in that unmistakable oh my God, it’s him way.
“Max Finnegan?” one squealed, grabbing her friend’s arm like she was going to faint. “I knew it was you. I told you it was him!”
The other girl laughed so hard she almost couldn’t breathe, already fishing her phone out of her bag. “This is insane. We love you, Finn. Can we get a picture? Please?”
I looked over at Emma, half expecting her usual smirk, but it wasn’t there. Her face had changed – she looked quieter, harder to read. She stepped back, only a little, but enough to make the space between us feel intentional.
Before I could say anything, the girls moved in closer, no hesitation whatsoever. “I’ve never met a real hockey player before. You’re even hotter in person.”
Her friend looked me over from my chest to my face and back down again. “Yeah… way hotter. Bet you get mobbed everywhere you go, don’t you?”
I managed a smile, the automatic one I reserve for fans, though my chest was a little tight.
I had just been teasing Emma and watching her green eyes light up every time I did.
Now I was surrounded by squeals. I posed for their selfies and let them gush.
But I kept scanning the end of the aisle, half expecting to see Emma standing there with her arms crossed, smirking at my predicament.
She wasn’t.
By the time the girls took off, whispering and giggling as though they’d just won some sort of prize, I turned back to where Emma had been.
Gone.
The air felt emptier without her in it.
I lingered in the aisle, pretending to look at books, but I was really just hoping she might drift back the way she’d come.
Minutes went by. Nothing. I went around the next aisle.
Then the next one. No Emma. I retraced my steps, peering between shelves.
My heart sank a little more each time I didn’t see that flash of chestnut hair.
I swallowed my pride and went to the service counter, where a young man was restacking a pile of hardcovers.
“Excuse me,” I said, leaning on the counter.
“There was a woman who was helping me a couple of minutes ago. Green eyes, British accent, about –” I gestured vaguely “–this tall. Name’s Emma. Do you know if she’s still around?”
The guy glanced up at me, confused. “Emma?”
“Yeah. Doesn’t she work here?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, dude. There’s no Emma working here.”
I just stared at him for a moment and frowned. “You’re sure?”
“Positive. Maybe she was another customer?”
Another customer. I stepped back. Shit, I hadn’t expected that.
She’d only been in my life for ten minutes, sparred with me like it was the most natural thing in the world and then vanished as if she’d never been there at all.
The guy had already gone back to his pile of books, totally unconcerned.
But I stood there longer than I should have, looking down the aisles and wishing I could see those green eyes and crooked smirk one last time.
And I couldn’t shake the ridiculous feeling that I’d just let something – someone – slip through my fingers.