Page 22 of Highlands Summer Wedding

In one fluid motion, he shed his hiking pants, revealing a pair of navy swim briefs underneath. His shirt came off next.Welp. He’s still lifting weights.

Perched at the waterfall’s edge, he mimed holding a camera to his eye—a universal gesture everyone recognizes. I fumbled for my phone, managing to hit record just as he flashed a quick grin, pinched his nostrils shut, and dove feet-first into the crystalline pool below.

I caught the whole thing in glorious 4K, complete with the splashes all over me and my phone.

He surfaced, shivering, shook his hair like a dog, and scrambled up the hill to do it again. That’s Max, ever adventurous.

I bent down and stuck my hand in the water, then yanked it back instantly. My skin stung from the cold.

“C’mon in! The water’s?—”

“Freezing!” I laughed, shaking my head. “No way. I’ll leave it to you.”

Max launched himself into the pool again with a shout, slicing through the frigid water before swimming to where I waited. He hoisted himself onto the rocks beside me, rivulets of water streaming down his torso.

“Remember that place in Arizona?” Droplets sparkled on his eyelashes. “Slide Rock. You had on that green swimsuit and practically shrieked when you hit the pool at the end.” He waved his arms wildly in imitation, sending water spattering around us.

I glanced at his chest. More defined than I remembered. I looked away.

“Yeah, but it was so hot there we had to go in. It was refreshing.”

“You can’t say this isn’t refreshing,” he said with a grin.

“But Slide Rock was more of a lazy river meets slip and slide.”

“You still talk like a filmmaker.Die HardmeetsJaws.”

Max made quick work of redressing. He tugged his hiking boots back on, laced them quickly, and we set off again. The stream ran along our path, deeper into the valley, the Cuillin’s dark peaks appearing and disappearing in the mist.

“So why wedding planning?” he asked.

“It’s an easy match for my skill set. I’m organized, and I can organize other people.”

He cast me a quick side glance. “Because you’re a producer.”

“Or maybe I’m a wedding planner. I love the idea of taking a couple’s dreams for a special day and making it a reality.”

“Like a director.” Again with the smirk.

I swatted him. “Enough! The difference is this—it’s usually in a city. I work once or twice a month, and nobody wants to get married on a Wednesday night. My weekdays are free.”

“Maybe you should make rom coms.”

“Max, I'm happy.” The word didn’t land right.

He nodded slightly. We trudged uphill in silence, our boots sinking deeper into the mud. Around us, tourists scrambled onto massive boulders, phones extended for the perfect shot. Max gestured toward one particularly picturesque rock. I declined with a quick head shake. We approached another waterfall, this one revealing a pool so clear I could count the pebbles underneath.

“How far does this trail go?”

“About a mile and a half, but I mean, you could go on forever. Did you ever walk along the beach with a plan to walk to the edge? I think this is like that. You can keep going until you get to the mountains, but you’re better off following the stream and then turning back. It’s fairy land, and the Good Folk, as they’re called, don’t want humans messing around with their land.”

“Where’d you hear all that?”

“Well, I’ve done a ton of research on Celtic mythology, Highland mythology, Scots mythology. You name it. I’d been researching for a little selkie film when I happened upon the right person at the right time, and now we’re doing my Culloden project,” he said.

Heat rose on my cheeks. I pushed it all down and smiled. “That’s awesome, Max.”

For a moment the mist parted,revealing the jagged silhouette of the Cuillin mountains against the sky. I raised my phone to capture the view when something flickered at the edge of my vision—gone before I could turn my head. The mist was closing in around us. Enveloping us.