How Captain Obvious of her.
Stepping over to the kitchen window facing the bay, Chloe pulled the rod to slide the shutters open. The bluest of skies, contrasted by the alluring crystal-blue water, along with the cascading movement of the waves as they left the land, provided a sense of hypnotic tranquility–a host of reasons she basked in the delight of being in proximity to the ocean whenever she wrote.
“Fine, Libby. I’ll send something over to you in seven days,” she said, mentally hugging that positivity mantra.
Once their agreement was settled, the two said their goodbyes and ended their chat.
Chloe stood, arms folded, gaze stuck on the water, while a flock of seagulls sat in a huddle on the bank, gulling it up as if they were a group of lifelong friends, meeting at their favorite spot on the beach.
She needed to get out. Breathe in the salty air. Digest a good helping of the people who made up Fortune’s Bay. Surely she could use more inspiration than Dylan (FABs) Hawke. Although, there was no use in pretending visions of that man, with all his spicy allure, weren’t on replay in her head like a new favorite song on a playlist.
Wasting no time, Chloe just about spoon-fed her curiosity with a stroll into town, the warmth of the sun kissing her shoulders left bare by her tank top. Walking would give her time to soak up, absorb the ambiance of Fortune’s Bay.
First stop on her list was the Community Center, figuring she’d be able to pick up an updated map of the town as well as an event calendar. To her surprise, a familiar face sat behind the information desk.
“Hello, there.” A warm smile engulfed the face of one of the ladies Chloe met at Destiny’s Brew. “You remember me from the coffee shop the other morning? Marge is the name,” she said, that smile as huge as Chloe gathered her heart to be.
“Of course I remember meeting you. It’s really nice to see you again. You work here?”
Marge’s fingers crawled over the string of pearls around her neck. Chloe decided the woman, hair the color of lilies, resembled Rose from The Golden Girls. “Oh, no dear, I’m happily retired. Volunteer here about three times a week. We, uh, missed you at the coffee shop this morning. All of us were looking forward to sharing more wonderful stories about Fortune’s Bay.”
“Oh, well, yes. I sort of overslept, but will try my best to get there tomorrow morning.” Thoughts of FABs guy popped into mind. “By chance, was Dylan there this morning?”
Marge nodded, thinly plucked brows raised. “He most certainly was—Samantha also. Those two,”—she shook her head—“honestly, I never thought they’d be able to keep the place running as well as their aunt and uncle had. They surprised us all, I think. You know, us regulars, that is. I personally think the place runs better. It even looks better since Dylan had it remodeled a few months ago.” Marge surveyed Chloe, who was momentarily castaway in a daydream. “Is there something you needed to discuss with Dylan, my dear?”
Heat brushed Chloe’s cheeks. She tried hard not to, but stumbled on her words when she replied, “Oh, no. Not really. I, um…well, his bike. It was still parked outside. At least I think it’s his.” She bit one of her fingernails. “Anyway, I just wasn’t sure if he was home or not.”
“Parked outside? Honey, are you renting his empty unit?”
Chloe nodded, eyes wide.
“That’s wonderful. I know he was pretty reluctant to rent it out. You should have seen the place before it was renovated. A complete and utter eyesore. Brought down property values on the block.” A smile creased her face. “But to finally rent it out…you must be someone important.”
Chloe’s eyes shifted nervously. She couldn’t blow her cover. Not when more people needed to be interviewed, studied.
“I’m sorry? Someone important?”
Marge’s eyes flickered with excitement. “Are you a news reporter from the Miami Herald here to do a story on Fortune’s Bay?”
Oh, that kind of someone important. Thank you, God.
“I’m not from the Herald, but I am…here for research.” A little white lie never hurt anyone.
“Right. Okay”—she blinked—“what’s your name, dear? You never mentioned it yesterday. Or is that as secret as the research you’re conducting?”
“Chloe,” she divulged with a smile, never feeling the need to keep her first name hidden.
“Ah, I have a cat named Chloe. A sweetheart like you—eyes a stormy blue, like yours, too. Anyway, dear, what’s brought you to the Community Center?”
“Oh, yes. Well, I’m in search of a town map. An event calendar.” Her eyes roamed the information desk.
“You’ve certainly come to the right place.” Marge hauled herself up from the chair, opened a drawer, removed a small folder, handed it to Chloe. “Here you are, sweetie. Everything you need is in there, including an event calendar. Oh, wait,” she added with a raised index finger. “An event at Wilde Pirate tonight.”
Chloe read the flier Marge handed to her. “Karaoke?” An indulgent laugh broke free. “I haven’t done karaoke since college.” Her cheeks grew pink as she vaguely remembered singing Baby One More Time by Britney Spears, dance moves and all.
“You should go, dear. It’s for a good cause, some teachers raising money for a field trip. And, I’m sure you’ll be able to interview more people. Wilde Pirate is a popular pub for the locals.”
“Thanks, Marge. I’ll keep that in mind.”
After shaking Marge’s hand, promising to hang out at Destiny’s Brew soon, she held the door open for a family with two small children as she walked out. Chloe would take the rest of the afternoon to decide about karaoke at Wilde Pirate.
But first, hanging out on a bench in Providence Park, notebook and pen in hand, would satisfy her people-watching needs.
Chapter 8
Dylan all but hugged Tamale, his beloved Harley, hopped on, revved it up for a few seconds, before zipping off past Chloe Davenport’s parked rental car.
Could he successfully avoid her forever?
If only.
After working at the coffee shop, he’d walked home, showered, changed into a T-shirt and jeans, then convinced himself to make good on that promise made to Samantha.
It’s for a noble cause, he thought at least a dozen times.
In actuality, the man could’ve used an evening out. Other than the customers at Destiny’s Brew, he rarely had a chance to be around other people—a polar opposite of the life he knew in Boston, where a night out on the town, for him, came as normal as breathing.
Yet, that life was long gone, a flicker of a moment in time. Fortune’s Bay was his home now; and as he rode down Main Street, the ocean breeze skirting across his face, he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Six months ago he drove a two-door Lexus hybrid down Boston’s Main Street, his life full of swag, hustle, and bustle. Posed Photography Studio was doing better than ever, celebrity models starting to line up for a chance to sign on as their newest clients. He was content. Pleased with how fast life was moving. The money he was earning taking photos was like a dream come true since photography was his gifted passion. Not many people got to make a grandiose living doing something they loved; not nowadays anyway. He’d purchased, with cash, a condo in prestigious Beacon Hill—a surprise wedding gift he planned to reveal to Cynthia, post honeymoon. Then his world imploded, crumbled to the ground like dust in the wind. All of that, a mere purposely buried memory—ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
By the time he rolled into Wilde Pirate’s parking lot, he was lucky to find a place to park his bike.
“Bro man,” called Samantha from the back end of the popular pub when Dylan barely walked through the doors. A few minutes past 5 p.m. and the place was already jam-packed.
Squeezing past crowds of presumably teachers, the majority of them tossing back Wilde Pirate’s handcrafted beers, Dylan made his way to his sister, who was standing by the stage, laughing it up with Liam and a few other guys.
“You made it.” Samantha’s lopsided grin coul
d have been the effect of her being happy to see him, yet he quickly surmised it was due to the pink ale she polished off.
“Yep, I’m here. Along with the entire town, it seems?”
Liam approached, gave Dylan the handshake-man-hug-thing, then babbled over the crowd’s voices, “Yeah, I kind of posted fliers all over town before and after school. Tonight’s the last night we can fundraise, so, go big or go home, you know? Thanks for coming; it means a lot.”
“No worries, man. I know how important a trip to Disney World is. Heck”—he scoffed, rubbing the stubble on his chin—“I could use a trip to see Mickey and Minnie myself.”
They all chuckled because, well, who doesn’t appreciate Mickey and Minnie Mouse? The seemingly ageless happy couple.
Samantha lifted her chin in the direction of three rectangular tables. “All of those are reserved for our group, so make yourself comfortable—sit wherever you’d like. I saw a waitress making her rounds; she should be back to get your order soon.”
And when the waitress asked, Dylan ordered their signature Wilde Burger, potato crisps, and handcrafted beer that was delivered to him almost instantly. “I’ll come back with your burger and crisps once they’re ready.” The waitress winked before she skirted away to drop off other orders.
Tipping the bottle up, he sipped as he sat back and observed. Tables began to fill up, food was delivered, more drinks served, the ambiance growing louder by the second. A sense of awkwardness hovered over Dylan like a tropical storm cloud. It felt strange sitting alone, no one to enjoy the evening with. Every one of the tables was occupied—couples, friends, colleagues—all engrossed in one another, even the two sets of couples sitting at the table across from his. Samantha and Liam were busy, serving as the welcoming committee; they’d likely be tied up for the majority of the night.
A plan formulated in his head. I’ll just slip out unnoticed after I eat.
It was a good plan as long as he stuck with it and frankly, he knew he hadn’t been an expert at sticking to plans lately.
The waitress dropped off his plate of food, along with another cold one, and to his surprise, Liam and Samantha joined his table, both so glossy-eyed it was hard for Dylan to keep a straight face.
“Bro man, you have to promise me you’ll sing at least one song,” Samantha begged, bottom lip puckered out.
Swallowing his bite of food, Dylan fired back, “Uh, no. But you go right ahead, Sis.” He laughed low down in his throat. Maybe he’d stay a while. Samantha up on stage making a fool of herself would be worth it.
“We’re totally gonna belt it out to that song from Grease. You know, the one John and Olivia sang at the carnival?” Liam took another swig of beer, his eyes now glowing.
“Yep. I’ve even got that spicy outfit she wore, black hot pants, high heels, curly-haired wig and everything.” Samantha beamed, elbows fixed to the table, chin propped in her hand.
Do people really go all out for karaoke, or was this just a cute Samantha and Liam couple thing?
“Several teachers will be in costume. Rumor has it, a few of the guys will be dressing up, doing a song from The Village People,” Liam added.
They take this stuff seriously.
“Well, in that case, I definitely won’t bother. I didn’t bring a costume.” The twisted curve on Dylan’s lips was all cynical.
Samantha reached across the table, stole a few potato crisps off Dylan’s plate, shoved them in her mouth. “Oh, I bet you’ll be up there before the night is over. Peer pressure can be brutal.”
“Peer pressure? Woman, spare me.” He leaned into the table, thick eyebrows raised. “We can bet all you want. How ‘bout a day, or wait…how ‘bout the entire weekend off? If I stand my ground, don’t step a single foot on that stage; I’ll take the weekend off. And should I happen to get up there and make a complete fool of myself—which by the way won’t happen—you can take it off.”
Samantha cackled, helping herself to more of his crisps. “Fine. Prepare to lose.”
A waitress hopped over to the table, delivered a plate of scrumptious fish and chips to Dylan’s sis and brother-in-law, then Samantha popped up, the seat scraping the hardwood floor beneath her. “Be right back. Apparently my bladder is ticked off I’ve had two pink ales.”
“No, babe.” Liam chuckled, his eyes clinging to her. “You’re just a cute lightweight.” He smacked her backside as she moved past him. “One of the many reasons why I love you.”
“One of the many reasons why I love you too, babe,” she said, all tongue-in-cheeky like before disappearing through the crowd.
Dylan and Liam talked as they ate, and Liam once more tried to convince his brother-in-law to sing at least one song. “Come on, dude. You’re not gonna make me be the only guy at this table that goes up there…right?”
“Wrong,” Dylan said through a sardonic laugh. “Not one person in here can convince me to go up there.”
“You play hard, dude. I’ll give you that.”
“Look who I found wandering around.” Samantha returned to the table, voice so laden with enthusiasm, anyone would have jumped to the chance to see what had her so giddy.
And to Dylan’s—ahem—surprise, the woman he’d successfully avoided all damn day, was standing next to his sister, who was wearing an annoyingly wry smile on her face. “Dylan, you remember this beauty from the coffee shop yesterday, right? The Early Brew Crew gave her the 411 on all things Destiny-related at—”
“I know her, Sam. Thanks.” Dylan tried, but couldn’t pry, not even one eye off Chloe. Even worse, he couldn’t keep that twisted smile from forming on his face. His neighbor was dressed in a pink tank top and jeans, sandy-colored locks falling in soft layers around her bare shoulders—why did she have to look so…perfect?
Liam stood up with his hand extended to shake Chloe’s. “Hey there, I’m Liam, Samantha’s husband. Your name is?”
“Chloe. And it’s wonderful to meet you, Liam,” she said, shaking his hand.
“Chloe?” Bewilderment lit up Samantha’s eyes. “Man, I love that name. Reminds me of one of my favorite authors. I told Liam we’re naming our firstborn Chloe.”
“May be kind of awkward if your first born is a boy, though.” Dylan’s declaration was power-packed with what most would call sarcasm.
He called it truth.
Samantha’s eyes flicked up then down. “Chloe, why don’t you have a seat next to my jerk of a brother, also known as Mr. Never-ending Sarcasm.”
Dylan stood and pulled out the chair for the woman he’d still been unable to peel his gaze away from. “Shocked to see you here. I actually walked to work today so my noisemaking bike wouldn’t wake you.”
This time he was being sarcastic, even though it was indeed true.
“Oh? I was wondering why you didn’t answer your door this morning after I noticed your bike parked in the front.”
“Was there something you needed?”
“Well, yeah I—”
“Wait,” Samantha interjected, nose crinkled. “Are you his renter?”
Chloe’s chair scraped the floor as she scooted forward. “Oh, well, yes I am.”
“Interesting.” Samantha nodded with a grin that had I’m a freaking meddler painted all over it.
Dylan leaned back in his seat, fingers tapping the table. He was nervous, but as far as he was concerned, no one but him knew that. “She’s only renting for a few months, Sam.” That revelation had him wishing a few months equaled a few more months after that. But why? He’d only met the woman two days ago.
“So tell me, Chloe. Are you some sort of a reporter? I mean, the other morning you mentioned you were trying to gather information,” Samantha asked, cramming fish then chips in her mouth.
“Sort of.” Chloe seemed to gawk over the plate of food Samantha was devouring.
“Are you hungry, Chloe? I can order something for you…fish and chips?” Dylan wondered if the woman always salivated over food.
Chloe exhaled. “I�
�m starving. I’ve been roaming town and put off eating specifically for this event. Fish and chips sounds amazing, Dylan.”
Liam waved his hand in the air to get the attention of the waitress and when she approached the table he ordered fish and chips. “Would you like something to drink? Beer, wine, or perhaps you’d prefer some of the awesome pink ale, like my lightweight of a wife?”
“Pink ale, it is,” Chloe said, with a girl-power wink to Samantha.
Lights overhead flicked off and on as the waitress told Chloe her order would be dropped off soon.
“Lights off and on…that’s our cue,” yelped Sam and Liam in a freakish, we are one of those couples that do everything the same, unison. The two shot up from their seats (in unison), took one last sip of their drinks (again, in unison), and excused themselves so they could change into costume.
“They’re cute.” Chloe giggled.
“Yeah, they are…cute.”
“So, what sent you knocking on my door this time? In need of more abble pie muffins?” Dylan couldn’t resist bringing up incident-abble again, Chloe’s cheeks growing a hotter shade of pink than yesterday when he opened the door, wearing only a towel.
“Um”—she paused as the waitress dropped off her pink ale—“I left something on your kitchen counter.”
Dylan crossed his arms over his chest, a mirthful twinkle in his eyes. “Oh, did you now?”
“Come on,” Chloe scoffed, “I know you saw it.”
Thing is, he had no clue what she was talking about, but something in him thought it would be fun as heck to make her squirm.
Just a little.
“Saw what, exactly?” The corner of his mouth tugged into a slow, half-smirky, smile. Just this morning he wanted to avoid her for the next few months; now in the back of his mind, he was conjuring up ways to spend every second with her.
Perhaps it was just that vanilla-scented perfume.
Chloe traced the rim of the pink ale bottle with the tip of her index finger, her accusatory set of eyes stuck on Dylan. “I left the first chapter of my manuscript on your counter.”
Lovestruck in Fortune's Bay: A Fortune's Bay Novella Page 5
