Summer Ever After Read online

  I’m standing on the porch in awe as she opens the door. “It’s perfect,” I say, and she smiles delightedly before leaving me to await my baggage. I want nothing more than to sleep the next few days away, read on my Kindle, and lay in the sunshine. Leaving L.A. was a good decision, the best maybe, if only I could stop the nagging doubt of my second guesses…

  Chapter Two

  ROMAN

  I pull the mail barge up to the dock and look at the time on my watch, which reads 5:03 p.m. After dropping the anchor, I jump onto the dock and tie a cleat hitch securing the barge. Shit. I’m late to help Maddie with her hotel guests. Some couple from California who rented out the honeymooners’ cottage are staying with her for the summer. It’s probably a bunch of stuck-up folks from LA who will just breeze through town, drink like fish, and blow obscene amounts of money on nautical crafts for their pool houses. Those type of people irritate me immensely.

  I try to keep an eye on Maddie, especially when new folks come through town, since a group who rented the cottage last summer partied too hard and vandalized her property. It took me a good week to help her fix it back up between a hole in the wall, destroyed carpets, and some other damages. You would have thought a Bacchus event occurred in the cottage with all the wine bottles, turned over furniture, and cigars laying everywhere. She’s lucky the idiots hadn’t burned the place down.

  Maddie has always lived in Gold Beach. It’s where I was born and raised until I went away to college and then settled in Seattle with my own boat building business. Things were difficult for a really long time until I got my head out of my ass. When dad’s health started to fail I returned to help him run his fishing business and we managed to patch our relationship up. Since his death last spring, I’m a bit lost and come back out of habit like clockwork while my boats are being constructed and business is in a lull. Gold Beach is my home, the place I’ve always tried running from but seem to get sucked back to when life gets rough. It’s not a secret of mine, but it’s not something I’m going to advertise everywhere I go.

  My summer day job is helping Old Roy, the postmaster for Gold Beach, a few days a week. Since Roy has been sick, it’s been up to me to operate the mail barge and get the letters and packages to the folks up the Rogue River. I like to save Maddie’s mail to take it to her personally, since it’s on my way. Gold Beach has one of only two surviving mail barges still in operation. I’d hate to see that change, and so I’ve committed myself to making sure the mail gets delivered while I’m staying here.

  I get the boat secured to the dock and make my way to my truck when I see Bella running toward me. “Whoa! Easy, Bella, what’s up, sweetheart?” Gentle panting and licking greets me as she tries jumping up into my arms. “Where’s Darrell?” I look around, but can’t find the mayor of Gold Beach anywhere. Bella keeps wiggling and softly woofing with excitement. Her large paws rest on my chest until I push her back down. “Hey, girl, I’m off to see Maddie. Want to come?” Bella dances around my feet and follows me to my truck.

  I’m pretty sure everyone in town who is able to drive has given Bella a ride somewhere. She’s more the town’s dog than she is Darrell’s. She’s the only female I don’t mind whose definitely gotten around. She jumps into my truck and rests her large head out the open window, watching the cars pass by. I drive the short distance up Highway 101 along the coast. Maddie’s house is a short distance off a side road that goes out toward the rocky shoreline. She’s actually my neighbor. My dad’s old house is right next door I couldn’t bear to sell it, so I use it as my summer home, and since I can afford it, I’ve been fixing it up each visit I make. I don’t plan to let it go anytime soon.

  I look over to Maddie’s house, thinking how it’s been in her family forever. It’s a huge Victorian-style home with a large wraparound porch and swinging chairs in the back that overlook the ocean. She owns the small cottage built right on the beach, a hundred yards away from the big house. She rents it out whenever she can for extra money and provides the best bed and breakfast in the state of Oregon. She’s one of the sweetest people I’ve ever known, so I’ve got a soft spot for her. I let Bella out of my truck, and she races out to smell the tires of a shiny new car now sitting in the driveway.

  “Bella! No!” My yelling startles the dog, who I’m sure was about to squat near the car’s tire. It’s not that I would have cared, but whoever these city folks are, they’re Maddie’s new guests first and foremost. I doubt it is the best greeting Gold Beach could give them if they happen to witness the event. Calling Bella over, the dog seems clueless and takes off running in circles again, sniffing out some new find. Expecting me, Maddie steps onto the porch with her hands on her hips and smiles.

  “Roman, have you been cheating on me again?” she laughs and pets Bella, who greets her just as easily as me.

  “Never, Maddie. Bella just can’t help but appreciate my big truck. Typical female,” I mutter, and Maddie gives a snort.

  “I doubt that, Roman.” She shakes her head.

  “So who are the city slickers with the flashy car?” I ask, looking out into her manicured driveway to see the silver convertible gleaming in the late afternoon sun. It looks vaguely familiar. Recognition dawns and I recall seeing it on the bridge coming into town a little while ago. Cars like that are hard to forget.

  “Oh, just one person. A sweet young woman here on her own,” Maddie supplies, busying herself as she walks me over to the tan and brown suitcase bearing fashionable initials, which screams she’s loaded with money. Great, it’s another rich brat next door for the summer.

  “And she rented out the honeymooners’ cottage instead of staying here at the house? By herself?” I’m sure what surprises me about this is she didn’t bring an entourage of annoying girls with her to ‘hang out.’

  “Yes, for the entire summer. Seems her fiancé isn’t joining her, poor girl. I bet they broke up too.”

  “You think so?” Absently, I move to pick up the damn trunk-size suitcase, cursing this mystery woman, whoever she is. Maddie clears her throat, stopping me.

  “Now be good, Roman. Take her suitcase down there and come right back. Bella can stay with me and I’ll wait.” Maddie gives me a stern look, which means ‘no flirting with the hotel guest.’ Now I don’t know where Maddie would get such ideas from, and I’m forced to give her one of my suggestive smiles.

  “Seriously, Maddie?” I roll my eyes and take another stab at picking up her bag. It’s not that I can’t pick it up, but the damn thing is awkward and I know it won’t roll properly over the boards down to the cottage. Something else I need to fix while I’m here.

  “I mean it, Roman. She’s not in a good place for your shenanigans. I can tell these things,” Maddie states, and I clutch my heart, shaking my head and pretending to be insulted.

  “Who, me?” She gives me a look that squashes any adult thoughts I might have about her pretty little guest. Maddie is like a second mother to me and I wouldn’t dare disrespect her wishes regarding a hotel guest. I pick up the woman’s suitcase, which feels like it holds a ton of gold bricks, and lug it down to the cottage. “Geez, this suitcase alone has warned me off, Maddie, I swear. Any woman who packs a shit-ton of hair products is not welcome.” Maddie points to the cottage and tells me to hurry up, before taking Bella inside the house with her. I bet the dog is getting my slice of Maddie’s delicious apple pie.

  Damn women. I mutter to myself the entire hundred-yard walk to the cottage while carting this bag before dumping it on the porch to knock on the door. “Hello? I’ve got your suitcase.” I pound on the door again. “More like a trunk of bricks,” I mumble. I broke a damn sweat lugging the bag down here. Finally, I hear someone inside moving around.

  “Hello?” a sweet voice answers as the door cracks open, leaving the chain in place. I can see only a part of her face in the shadow. Pale skin, loose, long blonde hair over a shoulder, and one pretty blue eye peeks out between the door and the jamb.

  “Hi, I’m here to dro
p off your suitcase like Maddie asked me to.”

  “Oh, um, all right. Thank you. Just leave it there, please.” She closes the door and I wait for her to open it again sans chain, so I can see more of the prettiness the partially open door gave me, but no bueno with this chick. She seems a bit gun-shy, and I find myself curiously knocking again. It takes a moment before she cracks the door open a second time. She eyes me up and down with raised brows and I wonder if she likes what she sees; fiancé or not, she did come here alone for the summer. That, my friend, tells me something—as in, all is not well in paradise.

  “I could bring it in like I’m supposed to,” I drawl, waiting for her response.

  “No, really, just leave it there. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Thank you.” She closes the door again. I was hoping she’d give me something, like a peek at the whole package. Clothed, of course. I’m not a total moron or pervert, but hey, cut me some slack; I just lugged a hundred-pound bag the length of a football field.

  “Seriously, this thing is heavy. I should really bring it inside,” I yell from outside the door, knocking again.

  “What is your problem?” This time she opens the door, chest heaving, hands on her hips and fire in her blue eyes. I notice she’s been crying. Her red, puffy eyes give her away. Her face is one of those heart shapes, dainty with pretty, full lips, which are currently frowning at me. It’s perfectly symmetrical, right to her upturned nose. Maddie’s warning comes back to me and I push thoughts of wanting to tweak her nose out of spite away. I like what I see, but obviously she doesn’t reciprocate the interest. Not. At. All.

  “Are you… are you okay, miss?” I probe thoughtfully, running a hand through my hair, which is probably a mess after being on the boat earlier. Why the hell does she make me feel twelve and awkward? I hate to see a girl cry; it stirs up shit in my gut I’d rather not deal with. I take a step toward her, but she steps away, one hand still clutching the door frame.

  “I’m fine. Are you always this pushy?” she says, standing tall—or as tall as she can be compared to my height. She’s a cute little munchkin, but even I know when to back down from a she-witch.

  “Normally, no,” I chuckle, and she peers at me unhappily. I kind of expect her to slam the door shut, but she doesn’t, not yet anyway.

  “What are you staring at?” she softly asks, and I need to get out of here. She’s managed to make me pissed off and curious at the same time, which irritates me.

  “Nothing, Blondie.” I push past her, clutching her bag, being as pushy as she claimed me to be a moment before. She backs up, looking outraged, but doesn’t leave the room or say anything more. “Where do you want it?” Looking around the cottage, I see the familiar dainty wicker furniture, pastel décor, and framed nautical scenes lining the walls I remember putting up when Maddie first opened the cottage. My attention returns to her as I await her response.

  “Here, just leave it please.” Ignoring her, I brush past her into the bedroom, putting the bag on the suitcase rack next to the bed. “Hey!” she yells, but I leave the bedroom before she can get any feistier with me. The bedsheets have already been pulled back, telling me she was laying down, and the faint scent in the room has already changed from the eco-friendly cleaner Maddie typically uses. Damn woman seems to have permeated the cottage all right.

  “You could say thank you,” I roughly tell her from the doorway. I’m feeling defensive; never in my life has a woman confounded me so quickly. Her orangey smell has filled the cottage since she’s been here, and I know shaking her from my brain is going to take some serious effort.

  A delicate hand reaches into the purse she’s clutching to her chest—I notice the same ridiculous pattern from her luggage—and she pulls out another matched piece, her wallet, which irritates me for some reason. “Here, for you.” A shaking hand tries passing me a bill of some amount. Turning it over, I see its five bucks and I sure as hell don’t take it. I’m not the help, if that’s what she is thinking. Maddie is my neighbor and this is something I help her with.

  “Keep it, sweetheart, and get your own damn luggage next time.” I walk away, leaving the cottage. Fuming, I hope I won’t have to run into this woman the rest of the summer. She might be a pretty shell, but her attitude doesn’t impress me to pursue her further.

  Chapter Three

  ABIGAIL

  Exhaustion washes over me as I sag against the closed door with relief at having made the trip. My limbs shake as I think about the responsibilities I’ve momentarily escaped and the consequences likely to chase me here. I’m sure tomorrow will look better once I’m settled. The once dull ache in my head has begun to pound. I lurch away from the door in search of my purse and a packet of pain relieving pills.

  As I look inside my bag, I see my phone light up. Pulling it from my bag, I read the caller is my dad. It would seem there’s no reprieve just yet. Squeezing my eyes closed, I answer the call dutifully. “Hey, Dad.”

  “Where the hell are you, Abigail? I get a message from Lucas and my secretary that you’re not coming in. We discussed this.” Dad’s gone right into lecture mode, attempting to steamroll right over me.

  “Dad, we discussed this. I’m not taking the case. You gave it to Lucas already. I need some time. I need to think about things… make decisions.” It takes a herculean effort to keep my voice strong. The second Dad suspects I’m wavering, he’ll go in for the kill. Pacing the small living room area, I sink down into the couch made of thick wicker furniture and deep plush cushions.

  “What could you possibly need to think about? You have a job and responsibilities and clients counting on you. First year associates don’t get vacation time, Abigail. You haven’t earned it. You don’t get special treatment working for me.” Straight to the point, Dad makes his case a strong one.

  “I’m not asking for special treatment.” Rolling my eyes, I think about my college education, my car and the condo he paid off. I sound like a brat, but I didn’t ask for those things. Petulantly, I whine my excuses. “I still don’t have an actual caseload. I finished up the last deposition for Mr. Ellery before I left.” He ignores me completely and keeps going.

  “What the hell possessed you to drive all that distance by yourself? Is that little town even safe? Nothing but a bunch of townies, I bet.” His voice sounds disgusted and I’m reminded of how Mom had been thinking of leaving Dad before she got sick. This was her home, and it feels like he’ll desecrate her memory any way he can because in the end she did leave him by dying.

  “Mom grew up here. How can you say that?”

  “She never had a reason to go back.” Of course she didn’t, because my dad practically made my free-spirited mother a drone to his work and social calendar. Even her cancer was an inconvenience to him.

  “Well, maybe that was her mistake.” My voice is shaking. I’ve never liked bickering, but it seems as if it’s all I do with my dad. Rarely do we ever agree on anything.

  “I’m going to pair Lucas with your sister. At least those two will know how to win a case without giving up the farm. I’m sure Lucas knows how to earn his keep by now.” I’m sure my dad thinks I should be working long unbillable hours since he foot the bill for school.

  “I’m staying, Dad. I’ll keep you posted on when I plan to come back to LA.” My stomach churns fiercely as I press the button to end the call. I rarely speak defiantly to my father. My cheeks flame with guilt. Am I the spoiled brat who ran away from her privileged life to find herself?

  I feel like somebody should be singing Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off” because I’m definitely rattled by my dad’s call. Sluggishly moving into the bedroom, phone in hand, I pull back the covers and sit down. Turning the sleek phone over in my hand, it lights up a second time. My sister, Leah, is calling me now. I’m sure my father called her and now she’s calling me to follow suit in how much of a disappointment I can be by not following the rules. I just can’t take much more of this today, so I ignore the call.

  I fall into bed and s
oon find my cheek resting against a damp pillow from a torrent of tears. A knocking on my door interrupts me and figure it must be the man who is bringing down my luggage. I brush my hair back as best I can and clean the tears off my cheeks.

  Nervously, I crack the door open. Wow. For one thing, he’s huge, like a football defensive linebacker with big broad shoulders, dark sandy blond hair, and a tan that makes his skin glow like caramel. He’s pushy, but I see my bag just beyond him and I try to convince him to leave it there for me to drag in on my own. He’s insisting he brings my suitcase in, and I don’t know how to respond.

  Being cautious, I refuse until he barrels his way into my room. Even though I am pissed he wouldn’t leave me alone, I try offering to tip him, only to have him refuse and storm off. He might as well have thrown the money back in my face. Our exchange is snippy and unexpected, leaving me confused. I don’t normally react this way to people I have just met, but this guy seems to be the exception.

  I wait until he is a good distance off the porch before I open the door and watch him retreat back up the sandy trail to the house. The way he carries his body is intimidating, but seeing how his cargo shorts mold his backside snags my attention, and I notice his shirt looks pretty much painted on his shoulders. He’s good-looking and probably way more arrogant than I need. I’m not looking for a relationship anyway—heck, I am still technically in one at the moment, but it doesn’t mean I’m totally immune to him and unable to window-shop just a teeny bit.

  Confused by these feelings, I shut the door and lean against it from the inside, groaning. Sleep. I need good sleep to get through this. I’ll be here for the next two months. I need to take this time to work on me, and I’ll deal with whatever shit Lucas is pulling when I get back to LA.

  * * * * * * *

  “Good morning, Abby. I hope you don’t mind if I call you Abby, do you?” Maddie cheerfully puts orange juice, fresh hot bacon, and waffles down on the dining table. Slipping into a chair, I sense she will probably call me Abby no matter what my opinion is on the subject, but her kind smile is enough that she could call me just about anything she wished.