Forever Summer - Melody Grace Page 0,20

and suddenly they were all she could see.

Ocean blue, she thought, in a daze. Not clear or sparkling, but something deeper, like the foam-tipped waves that rolled outside her windows. Always shifting as the sunlight moved across the bay, hinting at some unexpected depth …

“Excuse me?”

She startled. Another customer was trying to steer his cart past them. “Oh, sorry!” Evie leapt out of his way, still reeling from the moment.

What was she doing?

She looked around, disoriented by the too-bright fluorescent lights and aisles of cement mix—and Noah, standing there beside her like nothing was wrong, even as Evie’s heart pounded faster in her chest.

Ocean blue? She gulped. She must have been breathing in too much sawdust back at the inn—or else she was in serious danger of losing her mind.

“I, um, have to go!” she mumbled, backing away from him. “Thanks for—um … well, thanks!”

Noah looked puzzled. “What about your things?” he asked, nodding at her cart.

“I … changed my mind!” Maybe she was being ridiculous, but Evie just couldn’t risk another moment around this man. What was she going to do next, start comparing his body to Greek statues? Write poetry about his smile?

“Faucets are a big commitment,” she managed to blurt out, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

And with that witty parting comment, she turned on her heel and fled.

5

Noah may have just about gotten his imagination under control when it came to Evie Baxter-Jones, but his unconscious mind clearly wasn’t playing ball.

He dreamed about her.

Not just a casual glimpse in some general scene, either. Nope. He woke the morning after their most recent encounter in a hot sweat, the sheets tangled, his blood surging in his veins.

She’d been dancing by candlelight again, like he remembered. Like the night they’d first met. Only this time, when she spotted him standing in the shadows, she didn’t lung for her flannel bathrobe. No, she kept dancing. Hips swaying as she beckoned to him, wanting him, letting her negligee fall to the floor …

Was it any wonder he’d needed an ice-cold shower and a five-mile run to clear his head? But even as his sneakers pounded the wet sand on the beach, Noah couldn’t shake the image from his mind—or the feeling of connection that had passed between them.

Who knew the middle of the bathroom fixtures aisle could be so romantic?

Not that Evie had romance on her mind.

Noah felt a stab of guilt. Here he was, panting over a woman who was simply doing her best to move on from a tragedy. She was starting over, just like him, but instead of being broken by the past, she seemed determined not to let it define her or stop her from facing new challenges head-on. There was something pretty brave about that.

But what about him?

Well, he’d spent the past six months in a blur of distraction, trading whiskey bottles for willing women—like they were any better.

Like they could make him forget everything he’d lost back in Nashville.

Maybe that was why he felt this inexplicable pull towards Evie. She knew loss, and even though his shouldn’t measure up to what she’d been through, he’d already learned that grief didn’t work that way.

You couldn’t keep score over a broken heart.

Noah paused for breath, gasping. He was alone on the cool sand with the dog-walkers and saltwater fishermen, but as he straightened up to take in the view, Noah could see a familiar turreted Victorian, just across the bay.

Beachcomber Inn.

He could drop by, just to see how things were going. It was only a half mile out of his way. Or, if he detoured to the bakery first, he could bring Evie an early-morning cup of coffee—

And then what?

Noah turned away. He knew where coffee usually led, but Evie wasn’t a one-night stand kind of woman. Besides, he reminded himself sternly, he’d spent enough time this morning musing over her; he had other things to do. Like his job, which he was already running late for.

Evie was none of his concern.

Noah was just six minutes late to his shift at the firehouse—but six minutes was more than enough.

Brayden slapped him on the back when he walked in. “Sorry, buddy.”

“Wish I could help,” another of the crew, Jenna, added.

“Good luck!”

Before Noah could ask what they were talking about, a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. It was the chief. “Just the man I was looking for,” Pete said, sounding jovial. “Come with me.”

Uh oh.

Noah followed him to the office, where Pete handed him a thick file. “What’s this?”