Longing for Forever (Sunset Bay Romance Book 1)
Page 2
It was almost six o’clock in the afternoon and he had work to do. He picked up his power drill to use on the screws holding the shutters on the old bungalow and walked back outside. He planned to start scraping the shutters’ old paint off before he fixed his dinner.
He pushed open the screen door and walked out onto the small porch just in time to see that a large brown pelican had his large bill plunged into the bucket.
Adam dropped the drill to the chair on his porch and dashed down the steps just as the bird flipped a fish from the five-gallon bucket into the air, then caught it in his bill. He gulped it down in one swallow.
“Hey,” Adam yelled and began flapping his arms wildly, feeling ridiculous as he moved toward the pelican.
Not scared at all, the pelican spread its wide wings and flapped them forcefully at him as it looked up and defiantly thrust its big bill toward Adam. It squawked and lunged.
Adam stepped back, startled by the aggression. He knew that a goose would attack, but he hadn’t encountered a pelican like this before. He backed away from the bucket of fish, trying to figure out what he should do now.
The bold bird stuffed his bill back in his bait bucket.
“Hold on, bird,” Adam snapped. “I fished those fish out of the ocean, so you go back out there and get your own dinner.” He was looking forward to fishing again tomorrow using those bait fish. He still had enough in the bucket, but not for long if he didn’t get rid of the nuisance bird. Determined to keep his fish, he lunged forward, trying to scare the bird away. “Not so fast, bird. You’re not getting those without a fight.” He flapped his arms wide and hard, startling the pelican this time. It yanked its bill from the bucket and stepped back, flapping its wings—they had to span six feet—as it lunged forward again. Adam stood his ground, flapping his arms and yelling. It felt as if he and the bird were doing some kind of ritual dance as the bird stretched and lifted its wings high, exposing its armpits. Did birds have armpits?
Wingpits. Adam adjusted his thoughts. “I’m not scared of you,” he muttered, not at all sure he wasn’t going to lose his bait to the big bird.
A very feminine chuckle sounded behind him and he spun.
A woman, straddling a bright-yellow bike that looked as if it had been salvaged from his grandparents’ youth. She had buttery blonde hair and a sweetly feminine face. She was definitely feminine. Most definitely pretty.
Like a bright light holding his attention, he lost all thought in that moment as he took her in. The vintage bike had a wire basket on the back that held a bag of groceries, and a white wicker basket on the handlebars with a small pink sack nestled in it. But it wasn’t the bike or rack or basket or pink sack that had struck him dumb; it was the woman. She looked as fresh and lovely as a daisy, standing there in her ankle-length yellow jeans, loose blue top, and her long, cascading blonde hair hanging around her shoulders. A blue and white polka dot scarf banded around her hair, holding it back from her face, giving him a full view of dainty features, sparkling sky-blue eyes that were enhanced by her top and scarf, and contrasting bright pink lips. Lips that were wide with a beautiful smile.
Wow. She stood between his rundown bungalow and the next bungalow. It was also blue, with white shutters, a bright yellow door and window boxes that overflowed with flowers—he loved flowers in the winter and Florida made that possible. She looked like one of those flowers.
He felt as if he were looking at a painting, because she and the house were so perfect together. It struck him that he and his worn-out bungalow were a sad contrast.
The bird squawked behind him, sending his heart ramming into his throat. He spun back just in time to see the bird dump his bucket over and his fish spill out onto the sand.
“Oh, no you don’t, bird,” he yelled, moving toward the bird as it reached for another fish. The bird plucked up the bait fish, tossed it into the air, then caught it in its open beak as it spun away from Adam. It trotted away like a lumbering cargo plane on bad wheels, then lifted into the air, gliding low across the sand and then out over the water, then on to open sea. With his bait.
Adam stared after the bird. “Well, at least you left me three, you bag of bad feathers.”
The woman giggled, and he turned back to her. She wasn’t on the bike anymore. She had put up the kickstand and was now scooping up the last of his fish and putting them in the bucket. She obviously wasn’t squeamish about touching fish.
“You’re going to need some more water. Is this your dinner?”
“No, it’s bait. I kept one nice-sized redfish for supper but planned on using the bait fish to catch some in the morning for the freezer.”
She grimaced, looking at the three small fish. “Looks like the freezer isn’t going to get to eat much tomorrow.” She held the bucket out to him and smiled.
He took it, his hand brushing her small fingers. A buzz of awareness hummed through him as their skin touched. Momentarily, they both held the handle, then her eyes danced. He’d felt so dead inside for the last couple of months that the spark of heat that rushed through him startled him.
“You need water.” She smiled. “They’ll die.”
“Oh, right.” He pulled the bucket back to the side, feeling as if his world had tilted.
“Are you my new neighbor? I live there.” She waved her hand behind her toward the perfect beach cottage. Her eyes were dancing.
His gut twisted. “Then I am your new neighbor. Although, there could not be any two more different beach houses than yours and mine.”
She placed her pink-tipped hands on her hips and tilted her head to the side to study him, then his bungalow. “That’s just the way it looks now. I’m sure it’ll start looking better now that it has someone to love it. To be honest, when I moved into mine, I really wanted to adopt yours and fix it up. Bring it back to life, you know. But I didn’t have time, so I just had to watch it sit there and hope someone would buy it and give it some love. When Birdie told me someone had bought it, I was ecstatic. An empty house is a hollow place. It needs life in it. Now it has you, and I can’t wait to see what you do with the place.”
There was something about her. He hummed to life; something inside him seemed to dance with an energy he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He held his hand out. “I’m Adam Sinclair, and I’m not sure about my bungalow fixer-upper skills, but I plan to give it a good shot.”
“I’m Rosie Olsen.” She placed her pretty hand in his. It was soft and warm and fit perfectly in his palm. “Glad to meet you, neighbor-pelican-warrior-extraordinaire.”
He laughed, his pulse racing. “Glad to meet you, neighbor, and I have to be honest—in all the years I lived on the beach growing up, I have never had to fight a pelican.”
“Well, get used to it. That’s Seymour and he comes around here on a regular basis. When I first moved into my bungalow, he stole all kinds of things from me. Of course, he didn’t eat my paintbrushes, but he sure did like to take them and hide them. I’d have to go hunting for them and find them buried in the sand. He stole one of my scarves one time. And a beach towel. He’s just a little pest. But I’ve gotten accustomed to him and I hope you don’t decide to try to hurt him.”
Adam blinked in alarm. “I wouldn’t hurt him. Scare him off my fish, yes. But no matter how irritated I am at him, I wouldn’t hurt him.”
Relief filled her delicate face. “Good. I didn’t get the feeling that you were like that.”
The late afternoon breeze held a chill, despite the sun, but it was January after all, so that was to be expected. It lifted the edges of her hair and blew it across her face, and he stared at her like he’d never seen a woman before.
She tugged the hair away with her fingertips, then waved her hand at her bike. “I better get my groceries inside. And if you end up needing anything, just let me know.”
She turned and walked back to her bike, and Adam watched, frozen in place as she reached into her basket and picked up the little pink sack that had been perched on top.
She spun back to him, catching him staring. Smiling, she retraced her steps back to him. He told himself to stop staring as she held the bag out to him. He pulled his gaze from her face and stared at the paper bag.
“This is for you. A welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift.” She smiled and continued holding the bag out as he stared at it, then her. “Take it,” she urged sweetly.
He did, dumbfounded as he stared at the pink bag with Bake My Day scrawled across the bag in large script. “I can’t take your baked goods or whatever is in here.” He handed the bag back out to her.
She shook her head, hands back on hips. “Yes, you can. That’s my gift to you. I put it in the basket just in case I saw the perfect person to give them to on the way home, and that is you. They were meant for you.” She headed back toward her bike, her long blonde hair and hips gently swaying as she walked.
“Okay, then thanks,” he called, feeling mystified and intrigued at the same time. Who was she?
“My pleasure. Enjoy the muffins. Talk to you later.” She kicked the kickstand up and pushed the bike across the sand to her bungalow, where she propped it against the porch post before picking up her grocery bag from the wire basket and heading up the steps. It took a couple of seconds for her to slip her key in the door and then disappear inside with one last little wave and a smile.
Adam just stood there, holding his bucket of three fish and his bright-pink bag of bakery goods. A delicious scent came from the bag of muffins. Had she said she had the bag just for someone who needed it? Or to find the perfect person or something like that? Rosie Olsen was like a walking bright spot; no, she was like a ray of sunshine and he felt warmed all over as he took his fish and muffins inside his drab little house.
The previous owner, Birdie Carmichael, had used the house for a rental but had decided to sell some of her properties, this being one of them. She had said he had a good neighbor and there was a twinkle in her eye when she said that. No wonder. He had a feeling you couldn’t talk or think about Rosie Olsen in any other terms than good. He set the fish bucket down and opened the bag. Two large muffins nestled inside and the mouthwatering scent of orange and cinnamon engulfed him.
Definitely a good neighbor was all he could think as he plucked one from the bag and bit into it. The taste of cinnamon and orange filled his mouth and delighted his taste buds. Delicious. Even better than they smelled. A perfect ending to a good day.
His neighbor intrigued him. He’d worked such long hours in the last few years that he had almost no life outside the emergency room walls. If he’d dated anyone, it was someone who also worked in the hospital. He was taking time right now to adjust to life outside the hospital setting and to evaluate his life. He’d let his work consume all of his time and energy. He’d been high energy, on alert all the time. The idea that that guy would stand in hip-deep water and cast a fishing hook out to sea for an hour didn’t even seem possible, but he’d done it for three hours. And he’d enjoyed it. It had been just what he needed. He wasn’t sure whether he needed to add dating to his life just yet, but his sweet, smiling, muffin-bearing neighbor certainly had him tempted.
And as unstable a thought as that was right now, just a few days ago it wasn’t even a speck on the horizon.
Rosie set her groceries on the counter, her heart thundering from the meeting with her new neighbor.
“Oh, my goodness,” she gasped, and tried to push the pause button on the excitement bubbling up inside her. Her heart ran circles in her chest and her skin still tingled from barely brushing the man’s hand when she’d handed over the bucket to him. Who knew simply taking one look at her new neighbor would have her feeling weak-kneed and interested? It was a glorious feeling, actually. It had been a long time since she’d felt this sense of attraction. A long time since she’d had the luxury of even dreaming of thinking about dating, falling in love, and building a future with someone.
Adam Sinclair was one good-looking man. And he’d been about as cute as could be, flapping his arms at Seymour. That bird was a pest, but funny, and it had not looked impressed with Adam as the feathered thief had met his match. She was just glad she’d arrived in time to see the two of them flapping away at each other. She laughed as she pulled a bag of salad from her grocery sack and put it in the refrigerator. It had been a long time since she’d contemplated feeling free to explore the possibility of getting to know a man better, and yes, of thinking about looking for Mr. Right. But things were different for her now and she could do it. Couldn’t she?
Her heart raced with the possibility.
Her new neighbor might just be the man to start with. Not that she had a lot of time for dating. Her life was plenty busy with the long hours she worked and the extra things she did after work, with her volunteer work at the Sandy Shores Retirement Home and other various places she had begun offering a helping hand since she’d moved here. Her life was full for now. Just what she wanted.
It was at least fun to think about dating at long last…she just wasn’t ready yet.
Then again, she better not let herself get carried away daydreaming because she might get to know Adam Sinclair and realize he was a boring deadbeat. Or something like that.
She laughed at the very idea. The day had certainly been a surprise. And she loved surprises. She loved life. The possibilities, the gift of it, the blessing that she realized it was each and every morning she woke to a new day. She was, quite frankly, a sap about it these days. And she didn’t take any one of the extra days God had given her for granted.
She heard a whirring noise and crossed to the window to see what it was. Adam was using a cordless drill to remove screws from the weathered and battered shutters on his bungalow. Her heart rate jumped up just looking at the man.
It was nice, this feeling of excitement and rush of anticipation of what might come over the next little while as she got to know him. Okay, she could dream even if she wasn’t ready. Maybe even flirt a little. “You’re probably rusty at that too,” she muttered, unable to look away.
She was about to force herself to turn away, when a pretty blonde came down the side of the house and he opened his arms. Rosie’s mouth fell open as the blonde never slowed down, just rushed into his open arms and hugged the man like she wanted to squeeze all the breath right out of him. She couldn’t see the woman’s face but Adam’s said it all.
“Oh.” Rosie sighed, deflating like a stuck balloon. She couldn’t help but watch as they looked into each other’s eyes while the woman chattered excitedly, making him laugh, and even from this distance, she could see his beautiful eyes dancing as he looked down at her. Then they turned and with his arms still draped over her shoulders, they went up the two steps and into his house.
Rosie leaned over the sink to try and get a view of his friend, but her hair was hanging down like a cascading shield, leaving Rosie to wonder who the mystery woman was. Rosie pulled back and stood there staring at the spot where they’d been seconds ago. “Well, that was one short-lived fantasy,” she sighed. But, she added to the depressing thought, determined to keep a positive twist on the day. At least she knew now that she was ready to start thinking about dating.
It just somehow didn’t have the same excitement attached to it as thinking about her arm-flapping, bird-battling new neighbor.
Chapter Three
“I’m glad you’ve come aboard,” Doctor Coleman said as Adam entered the older man’s office on Friday. “I’m sure it’s far different than working an emergency room trauma unit, with all kinds of chaos going on around you. But I appreciate it more than you know. And the folks here in Sunset Bay do, too.”
They’d had a busy first day, with Adam seeing some of them and then tagging along with Doc Coleman to be introduced as the new physician who was coming in to help the beloved doctor take a little time off.
“It was a lot different, you’re right about that. But like I told you when we talked last week, I needed the break. And, to be honest, it’s a nice change of pace.”
Adam let his thoughts go unspoken. He didn’t always save lives, and when you seemed as if you were working more in a war zone than a civilian zone, there was a wearing down of a man’s soul after a while. At least for him. And then…when a senseless bullet hit a kid and he couldn’t save the boy…there was the anger. The anger that had been eating him up inside.
“Are you okay?” Doctor Coleman broke into Adam’s thoughts.
He focused. “Yes. I’ll be in to work on Monday and you’ll be off, right?”
Doc Coleman looked about his office. It was stuffed with books and stacks of papers and boards with photos tacked all over them. Many of the photos were fading or curled at the edges with age. Many of them were of babies. Babies he had delivered. Adam knew if he looked close enough, he’d find his photo and those of his sisters and brothers.
“It’ll be the first three-day weekend I’ve had in years. I’m going fishing. A man needs a fishing trip every decade at least. Don’t you think?”
“More than that, he deserves it at least that much.” Adam chuckled, though it really wasn’t funny. “Go and enjoy yourself. And if this temporary three months works out, you can get used to it.”