Forever Summer - Melody Grace Page 0,41

heads on the walls, before heading out to the back patio area. There they found sweeping views of the stormy bay and foam-topped waves, but the wrought-iron furniture wasn’t exactly inviting.

“I feel like I’m at my grandma’s house,” Noah said. “Except my grandma knew how to have a good time.”

“The guests seem to like it,” Evie pointed out, nodding to a group of white-haired ladies sipping tea. A brisk wind blew in, sending their napkins scattering, but they stoically kept on sipping.

“They’ve probably been coming here every year since the fifties,” Noah murmured, leaning closer—close enough to catch the scent of her shampoo, something light and floral that danced on the wind. He had to fight to hold onto his train of thought. “In fact, I bet Mr. Congeniality up front wheels them out of cold storage every summer.”

“Noah!” Evie hit him lightly, but she was laughing all the same. “Come on, let’s get out of here before I suddenly start wearing pearls and a twinset.”

They made their way back to the foyer and slipped past their snooty host while he was dressing down a server. “We’ll be in touch!” Evie called out behind them, then dropped her voice. “Don’t hold your breath,” she added as they emerged into the blissfully fresh air.

“I smell like potpourri,” Noah groaned. Evie leaned in and took a whiff.

“Nope, still as rugged and masculine as ever,” she joked.

“I’ll take that over eau de rich person any day,” Noah said. He almost took her hand as they headed back to the car, but he caught himself just in time. The act was for her research, he reminded himself. Except …

He was beginning to forget where the performance ended and reality began.

“Where to next?” he asked, hoping it was a very long list.

“The Cranberry Bog B&B. It’s a few miles away, and it has amazing reviews,” she said.

“Then my rusted chariot awaits.”

It began to rain as they drove down the coast, but inside the cab of his truck, it stayed toasty warm as they chatted easily about Evie’s plans for the inn.

“And I thought it would be fun to get a set of beach chairs, and all kinds of game for the guests to use—” Evie glanced over at him with an embarrassed expression. “I hope I’m not boring you with this stuff. You’re probably at your limit just helping me out like this.”

“Are you kidding? It’s fun,” Noah reassured her. “And I know Debra will get a kick out of the story when she gets back.”

“Right, Debra. Remind me how you got roped into babysitting me for her?” Evie asked.

He chuckled. “You haven’t met my godmother,” he said wryly. “She has a way of talking you into anything.”

“I know what that’s like,” Evie agreed. “Jules is just the same.”

“Ah yes, the famous Jules,” Noah replied, smiling as he remembered their encounter. “You know she ran into traffic to flag me down outside the mattress store the other day? Some poor cyclist came inches from death.”

Evie laughed. “That sounds like her. She’s always dragging everyone into her madcap schemes. One time, she insisted we drive eight hours to see this crappy band play. We got lost in the backwoods, miles from anywhere, but she kept insisting it was just around the corner. Glen got so mad, he—” Evie stopped talking suddenly. “Sorry,” she said.

Noah realized that must be his name.

Glen. Her husband.

“What’s there to be sorry about?” Noah asked, glancing over. He didn’t want to bring the mood down if Evie wasn’t ready to share, but he couldn’t deny he was burning with curiosity about the man who’d won her heart. “You can talk about him,” he reassured her. “If you’d like. How did you two meet?”

“At a bar,” Evie answered slowly. “Jules was dating this pompous finance guy and was trying to fix me up with one of his pompous finance friends, so I escaped to the bar to get away from them. Then Glen came over. He said he wasn’t any good at hitting on girls but that I looked like I could use a drink.”

“Sounds like a great line to me,” Noah said, and Evie smiled.

“It wasn’t an act,” she said with a soft laugh. “He was blushing bright red and stumbling over his words, but once we got talking, none of that mattered. He was a scientist,” she added. “Microbiology. I never could get my head around what he was working on, but he loved it.”

“A smart guy,” Noah noted quietly. Was