by T M Bashford
“Your mom said to make yourself at home. We can walk down the side of the house to the in-law suite. She gave instructions for you to get some sleep because she wants to talk all night.”
I grab my backpack and follow Blue. He carries both my cases over the lawn. His arm muscles protrude. He’s kept himself in good shape. Mom’s mentioned that dog trainers need to be fit for their work. I pull my stare away and remind myself that I’m not here for a rebound romance.
We enter the in-law suite through the back-porch door. Inside, it’s more of a cute one-bedroomed cottage, made of wood and sash windows, than a suite. Mom’s left me a new phone, some snacks, and even a casserole in the fridge in case I’m hungry. I turn on the phone and find a text from her. Welcome back, honey. See you tonight for long chats.
Blue stands at the window, taking in the view. Through the tall pines, the waves nudge the beach, orienting me to the fact we’re on the bay side of Cape Cod. We used to live on the other side where the ocean is rougher. When I come up behind Blue, he turns and smiles—a flash of white teeth and laughing azure eyes. My breath hitches.
“We should re-enact one of our days at the beach,” he says.
Heat sweeps through my chest and the blush travels to my neck as I recall the kiss in the dunes and wonder if he does, too.
“How about Saturday?” he asks. “I need to go now. Work calls.” He turns to leave, but his gaze lingers as if he’s reluctant to leave.
“Sure,” I say. “I’ll check if Mom has plans first.” And decide if I can handle hanging out with a guy who makes my insides wobble. I’m meant to be here to heal, not to dive into another heartbreak.
He stops at the door. “I’ve got your cell number. I’ll call.” He gives a casual wave and takes the three steps of the wooden porch in one go.
Way to set me up, Mom. Strange she didn’t mention he works at The Seeing Eye.
I pick up the phone to search Google maps. I want to figure out where we are. Then I check my email. There are a few from the university about my leave of absence, and another from Jasmine stating that I forgot to pack my heater and would I mind if they used it? There’s another from a Gmail address I don’t recognize. You left without saying goodbye? At first, I assume it’s from David and am touched, but he wouldn’t have a Gmail address. When I read the three letters that sign off the email, I can’t swallow the gulp that sticks in my throat. CWA.
Also by T.M. Bashford
The Tide Series
The Heartless Tide
The Forbidden Tide
The Chilling Tide
Novella
Becoming Sienna
About the Author
T.M. Bashford is the author of both romantic suspense and young adult novels. First published by Pan Macmillan and Skyhorse Publishing in 2018, in order to go to more book launches, Taryn just moved from the beach to the city with a family that includes teen children and a highly-strung dog who loves cheese.
She’s lived on four continents, meaning her job experience has been . . . interesting—an advertising sales rep, a ski chalet chef, a late-night news reader for the BBC, and the CEO of an internet company, but writing is her true love.
As if she doesn’t have enough on her plate, she’s about halfway through her PhD in Creative Writing while tutoring undergraduates. When she’s not writing or teaching creative writing, she’s training for triathlons in the hope they will compensate for the fact she spends ten hours a day sat on her tushie.
Learn more about Taryn at www.tmbashford.com or join thousands of readers and sign up for her monthly newsletter which includes bookish giveaways, bookish chat and next book release dates.
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Acknowledgments
This book has to acknowledge my growing publishing team because without them the speed at which this trilogy released would not be possible. So, thank you to my meticulous beta readers, my swift and voracious advanced reader team, my compassionate reviews team, and my avid social media supporters who not only comment and like my posts, but share them too. You don’t realize, I believe, just how important you are to the success of my books because it’s one thing to write a book, it’s quite another to ensure people find it. There are millions of books out there – without you, my books wouldn’t be discovered.
Thank you! From the very tips of my toes, the bottom of my heart, and the ends of every hair on my head (and you know I have a lot of hair!).
‘Til next time…
xxx
