Hurricane Season

by BJ Phillips

  Hurricane Season

  By BJ Phillips

  ©2016 BJ Phillips

  ISBN: 9781942976127

  ISBN (epub): 9781942976134

  ISBN (pdf): 9781942976141

  This is a work of fiction - names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Desert Palm Press

  1961 Main St, Suite 220

  Watsonville, CA 95076

  www.desertpalmpress.com

  Editor: Mary Hettel

  Cover Design: Michelle Brodeur

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Edition — June 2016

  Blurb

  Shawn Richards (aka S.K. Richardson) is a romance author. She’s had her heart broken badly again and is done with love. Ditching San Francisco, she moves back home to Southwest Florida to get her feet back under her and finish her latest novel.

  Carrie Alexander is a huge S.K. Richardson fan, but has no idea what she looks like. She does, however, like the looks of the new neighbor down the street, Shawn Richards.

  Drawn to each other as friends, Shawn still tries to keep some distance in spite of what she’s beginning to feel for Carrie. Carrie isn’t the kind of woman you just have a fun night with and then move on. Carrie’s the kind you fall in love with and make love to, and live happily ever after with—but she just can’t let herself trust her heart yet. After all, the last time she fell for one of her fans, it ended badly.

  Carrie is looking for ‘happy ever after’ just like in all those romance novels she reads. Shawn could be the one, or maybe Carrie’s fooling herself and there’s really no such thing as all that romantic stuff in Shawn’s books.

  Shawn is afraid she can’t deliver on that ‘happy ever after’ she knows Carrie wants—and she wants, too, truth be told. Destiny might have given them a push when Carrie tripped at the local grocery store and literally fell into Shawn’s arms. But fear could cost Shawn the woman of her dreams.

  Acknowledgement

  First of all, I have to thank my family—my parents, my brother and sisters, and my daughter—for always believing that I would write a book. Someday. I just had to believe in myself. My mom always said it’s never too late to do what you want. She was right. Thanks, Mom.

  I don’t think I could’ve done this without my favorite author (and now friend), AJ Adaire. As my first beta reader, you saw something worth saving when you volunteered to read this manuscript over two years ago. You’ve encouraged me to keep working on it all this time, becoming a good friend as well as mentor. I appreciate all the hours we’ve spent together discussing writing and life in general.

  In 2014, I heard about something new called the Golden Crown Literary Society Writing Academy. The year-long Writing Academy literally changed my life, and I started thinking of myself as a real writer, not just someone who happens to write. I especially thank Linda Kay Silva and Liz Gibson for working around all my life changes during that year and making it possible for me to stay in class. I also appreciate Karelia Stetz-Waters, Julia Watts, Georgia Beers, Sandra Moran, and Carsen Taite for their instruction, encouragement, and homework feedback. Georgia Beers, my wonderful mentor for the last three months of that class, was especially helpful and I will be forever grateful for her guidance.

  I sincerely thank Lee Fitzsimmons at Desert Palm Press for taking a chance on this first-time author, Mary Hettel, my editor, for helping me make this story what it is, and Michelle Brodeur for a great cover. I feel blessed to work with each of you.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my partner and biggest cheerleader, Debbie Hilliard. You have believed in me since we met and have always been proud of what I do, making sure I have time and space to write even when our life gets hectic. Thanks for being excited about my writing obsession and putting up with all of this craziness. I hope I always make you proud.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  About BJ Phillips

  Other Books from Desert Palm Press

  Chapter One

  CARRIE ALEXANDER PUSHED HER grocery cart through the Publix produce department, picking up one tomato and then another to regard the virtues of each one. As she looked over the latest selection, a woman scanning the lettuce in the bin along the wall caught her attention. Sunglasses perched in her short, wavy blonde hair, her tank top and Bermuda shorts showed off a lightly tanned, very fit body. Deciding she needed lettuce to go with those tomatoes, she threw the one in her hand into a plastic bag without really looking. She tried to move nonchalantly around the corner of the tomato bin, tripped over a crate of tangerines sitting on the floor, and fell straight into the woman in question. Strong arms grabbed her, holding her firmly.

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Carrie blurted, her face hot. She found herself looking straight into eyes the color of the Gulf of Mexico, and a face with a huge grin. “Uh, wow…how awkward. I’m so sorry,” Carrie managed to stutter out as she regained her footing. Suddenly too embarrassed to do anything else, she extricated herself from the woman’s grasp, muttered another “excuse me” as she retrieved her cart and quickly took off down the aisle. She headed to the self-checkout counter with what little she had in her basket, quickly paid for her purchases, and practically ran to her car.

  She felt herself finally start to breathe normally once she plopped into the driver’s seat. Geez, what a disaster that was! I really made a fool of myself. Well, so much for that. More than likely I’m never going to see her again, so no big deal, right? Too bad…that woman was hot. Carrie still felt her arm around her waist as if she had just been grabbed once more as she fell. More than anything else she was sure she’d never forget those amazing blue eyes.

  ***

  Shawn Richards stood next to the lettuce bin staring after that pretty but perhaps slightly crazy woman with big brown eyes, who fell into her arms and then took off like she’d been shot. The woman didn’
t look back as she rushed away, so Shawn got a good chance to take in the cute butt and legs of the rescue-ee. Fort Myers female scenery had definitely improved in the several years since she’d lived here. Or maybe she was just noticing more now that she was single again. She couldn’t help shaking her head and grinning as the look on that woman’s face flashed once more through her mind. Food, Shawn. You’re here for food, not a woman. Yeah, but she certainly was nice to look at.

  It took Shawn nearly an hour to complete her shopping. There was nothing in the cupboards at the house except for what she had hauled in with her last night. She hadn’t stayed at her Florida home for any length of time for several years, so the cupboards had been “Mother Hubbard” bare. With her shopping finished, Shawn loaded up the Jeep and headed back to the house.

  Saying Southwest Florida is muggy even in early summer is akin to saying the sky is blue. It just is. Not an ideal time to acclimate herself to living there especially after having lived in San Francisco for several years. Damp was one thing, but this was past that and quite warm to go with it. It’d be the worst in August. As people around there were wont to say, though, that’s what air conditioning was invented for.

  She turned once more into her driveway, which was about six car lengths long and paved with crushed shells. Most of the neighbors had long ago repaved with asphalt or concrete, but she loved the crackling sound her tires made when she drove on the shells. It reminded her of her childhood. Her house, like most of the rest in the neighborhood, was in the old “cracker” style—elevated off the ground, wood siding, metal roof, and porches on the front and back, with the front one screened in. Although she remembered thinking the back porch could be expanded into a nice deck when she originally bought it, she’d never gotten around to it. She just hadn’t been there long enough at a time until now to do anything to the place.

  Hauling in the grocery bags, she noticed the air was heavy with the smell of incoming rain, typical for a Southwest Florida summer afternoon. That would be a relief, actually. She didn’t have the energy to deal with the yard right then, so the push mower should give her a good workout tomorrow morning instead.

  A short while later, juggling her Kindle and a glass of sweet tea, Shawn took a sip of the cool liquid as she stepped out onto the front screened-in porch. She’d been looking forward to this first afternoon back home after a busy morning of shopping and unpacking. She settled into the cushions with an audible sigh after turning on the outside fan and pointing it toward her chair. Once settled, she propped her bare feet on the wooden porch rail, her toes against the coarse metal screen, and opened the latest installment of her favorite novel series.

  Two chapters in, she looked up when she heard the palm fronds rustling louder than usual, and felt the first raindrops hitting her bare feet. She hated to abandon the porch; however, she had no choice this time. She flopped down on the sofa with one foot under her and leaned into the sofa arm pillow to resume reading just as the first thunder growled.

  The room quickly darkened from the storm outside. Rain pinging on the metal roof of the porch beat a steady, almost hypnotic rhythm in between the rolls of thunder. Soothing and peaceful, it was just what she needed. She smiled as she reached for the switch on her favorite lamp. It had two intertwined fish on it in the sign of Pisces, her birth sign. In the pool of lamplight, she spotted a small picture in an oak frame that had escaped her notice since she arrived last night. She turned it around to look at it closer, and then wished she hadn’t. There she was—Jen.

  Someone had taken a picture of the two of them when they were on vacation in Colorado three years ago. They were laughing and holding long oars, like they were actually going to paddle down the rapids. Not that Jen would’ve done that, mind you. She never did anything that included getting wet or dirty. In spite of that, it’d been the best vacation they’d taken while they were together. She reached for the photo, took a deep breath as she gently stroked the image with her thumb before hurling it across the room, where it crashed landed upside down. She stared at the broken wooden frame and the shards of glass littering the floor. She’d clean that broken mess up later, just not right now.

  Tears welled up, despite her effort to hold them back. She’d decided months ago not to let Jen do that to her any more, yet sometimes it happened anyway. Tasting salt as she licked her lips, she realized a single tear had escaped and rolled down her cheek to the corner of her mouth. She took another deep breath, wiped away the stray tear and its track, and headed to the kitchen to make herself a drink of something stronger than sweet tea.

  Chapter Two

  CARRIE PULLED HER BIKE out for her usual morning ride, hoping to get it in before it was too hot for that kind of exercise. She walked her bike down the driveway and stopped at the street to adjust her helmet strap. As she looked to the right and left before taking off, she saw a woman in a baseball cap, running shorts, and tank, running at a fairly fast clip down the road.

  First, seeing someone she didn’t know running on her street was very unusual. Second, wow – two women who made her look twice in two days, also quite unusual. Granted, there was no way to know if she was really that great looking from behind, but with a body like that it would be a sin if she wasn’t. She actually looked a lot like the woman from yesterday at Publix. Built sleek like a racecar, she ran with no wasted motion—so smoothly her head barely bobbed up and down. She watched for a few more seconds, enjoying the view until the woman turned into a driveway down the street and was nearly out of sight. She shook her head and smiled, got on her bike and took off for her ride.

  ***

  Shawn turned into her driveway at the end of her morning run, and stopped to walk the rest of the way. Just as she stopped, movement at the edge of her field of vision caught her attention and curiosity made her look down the street. She saw a woman riding her bike away from her—a woman that looked sort of like the same one she caught in the store yesterday. She chuckled to herself as she replayed the incident again in her head. Nah, can’t be. What are the chances? Besides, she couldn’t tell much from looking at just her behind and with the helmet on. Still there was a definite resemblance. Just then, a little voice in her head started in as she walked into the house. What are you thinking? Don’t even contemplate another woman right now. Don’t even start. Move along Shawn.

  This morning she decided to get back to work on the article she was writing for Sunbelt Life and try to get more work done on her novel. She still needed to get back out to Sanibel Island for an up-to-date feel for the article. While she was reworking the outline, her e-mail dinged at her. It was a note from one of her favorite people on the planet, her cousin Greg. She had told him she was coming back to Florida and he was checking to be sure she made it. An invitation to lunch was also included, suggesting they meet at Fort Myers Beach when she had the time. She reached for her phone and tapped in his number.

  “Hey cuz,” she said when he answered. “I’m here.”

  “So when did you get in? Ready for a trip to the beach yet?” Greg said in his usual cheerful voice.

  “I just got in yesterday. I’m not quite ready for anything except for some work and sleep, though. Several days of driving will do that. How about tomorrow for lunch? I loved The Beached Whale the last time we went there. Is it still open?”

  “Yep, still open and still very busy. During the week at lunch shouldn’t be too bad. I’m dying to hear all about everything, but I’ll wait until I see you. Have a client in ten minutes. How about twelve thirty, or would earlier work better for you?”

  “Twelve thirty is fine. Looking forward to it. Love you, cuz.”

  “Love you, too. See you tomorrow.”

  Nice. I have something to look forward to. At least there would be something besides more work, heat and the humidity. And probably more rain. Bit of a change from the San Francisco Bay Area, heat-wise, anyway. For now, it’s back to work.

  She stared at the laptop screen, waiting for something to come to
her worth hitting the keys to type in. She decided to just keep typing anything that came to mind and hoped that something could be edited out of it that was good enough to use. Don’t think about anything else. Just keep working. Keep going. For some reason, her brain wasn’t cooperating fully.

  That stupid picture of Jen. She couldn’t remember even bringing it here, let alone leaving it behind. Must’ve been that short visit the last time, a couple of years ago. She couldn’t believe she thought it was important enough to bring down here. Of course, she hadn’t thought it would all be over so quickly. That was the one that was supposed to be forever. It wasn’t. Not even close.

  Shawn stopped staring at the laptop and stretched out her long legs. She still needed to edit that last bit, but it could wait till after lunch. As she barefooted across the wood floor to the kitchen, she was startled when her phone broke the silence.

  Caller ID said it was Alexis Jackson, her publisher. Uh, oh. “Hey AJ,” she greeted her old friend, trying to sound casual.

  “Hey yourself. Are you on vacation down there or actually working on that book?”

  “I’m working on it,” she said. “In fact I’m just now taking a lunch break. Even writers have to eat sometimes.”

  “Yeah, well, you know it’s due in less than thirty days. I even gave you extra time because of that situation you had. Since this one is the last of this series, your fans are chomping at the bit to get at it. Witching Hour should be one of your best sellers at this rate,” AJ said. “Providing of course that you’re writing it. You are, right?”

  “Yeah, I’m working on it. You know I’ll get it finished. It’s nearly done, and then you can have it to tear apart.”

  “Very funny. Now listen, I’m sorry about what happened, and I’m not trying to be mean about it. You know it’s been quite a while now and you need to move on. We can probably let you have a little more time if you need it, but promise me you’ll do your best. No meltdowns at the last minute.”