by Susan Hatler
“He pleaded with her to wait a year for him to turn eighteen and become a man—that until then they could write to each other in secret and he’d find a way for them to be together. The young girl knew their parents would never allow that to happen, though. She’d always obeyed her parents and wasn’t strong enough to go against their wishes, even for the perfect love she shared with him.
“So, with broken hearts, they said goodbye to each other right here at this very spot. A blue moon hung in the night sky, illuminating their final kiss and they promised to love each other always. Then they vowed that everyone who kissed at this exact point by the bay, under a blue moon, would be in love forever—and would never separate as they tragically had.”
My gaze stuck to the plaque as a cold breeze swept over my shoulders. What would it feel like to love someone like those people had loved each other? I turned to Max, who faced me at the same time. It was dark, and his handsome features were wrapped in shadows from the moonlight. The water washed against the shore behind us in soothing, rhythmic sounds.
His blue eyes peered down at me. “Do you believe in legends?”
I lifted my lashes. “I used to.”
His gaze went upward. “It’s a full moon tonight. Do you know if it’s a blue moon?”
“It’s the second full moon this month, which means it is a blue moon.” My throat went dry. I wanted him to kiss me, but this was crazy. I barely knew him. “But I don’t believe in the legend anymore.”
He caressed my cheek. “Are you willing to risk it, though? One kiss, right here, under a blue moon?”
Every ounce of me knew I should run back inside the inn for safety—not from violent danger, but from the perils of opening my heart. Instead of running, though, I found myself whispering, “Yes . . .”
I lifted up on my toes as he moved toward me, then his mouth captured mine. For a moment, panic rolled through me, but I smacked it down. My heart was not at risk, because there was no way we would fall in love. Max was leaving Blue Moon Bay in the morning, so my feelings were completely safe. With that settled, I let myself get lost in the kiss.
His lips were warm, soft, and firm. I leaned into him, breathing in the light and faded cologne—obviously expensive—that wafted up from his neck. His shirt was dry while mine was still damp, and our bodies pressed together as he slanted his head and deepened the kiss.
A small breathy sound escaped me as his tongue stroked along my bottom lip. I should not be doing this. Despite my mental reservations, I opened my mouth and tasted him. Oh, yum. Double yum. All of the pain and heartache from today fell away as I focused on Max’s delicious kisses that were making my legs turn all soft and noodle-like.
His fingers skimmed lightly down my neck, making me shiver. Our tongues met and parted, then met again. I couldn’t believe I was kissing a total stranger right here on the beach but a little voice in my head told me to stop worrying about it. I happily obeyed. The rush of heat flowing through me felt way too good to care about anything else.
The fact that I might never see Max again made my passion grow, and our kisses became hungry as his tongue explored mine. We stood for the longest time, kissing, and finally embracing in a body hug that threatened to unhinge me. I wanted this man, with every fiber of my being, and I didn’t know hardly anything about him.
I suddenly wanted the legend to be true, that kissing him at this spot, under a blue moon would make him mine—if only for tonight.
Chapter Three
I woke up to the sound of ocean waves outside my window, and my thoughts on Max. His off the charts hotness still unnerved me and I couldn’t get his warm smile or the image of his baby blue eyes off my mind. He had been a lovely escape with his sweet kisses, caring demeanor, and even his crazy dog. But I had other things to focus on now.
I had a thriving real estate business to keep going and an inn I needed to refurbish and sell— over my brother’s claims that losing our ancestral estate was entirely my fault. Since Max was leaving today, and I wasn’t interested in pursuing a long-distance relationship, I had to get the night before off my mind and face reality.
First, I needed some paint samples so my brother and I could choose the colors to repaint the interior of the inn. Sage or blue might give the place some flair. To face the paint store task, I needed some morning fuel, which meant a coffee and a Danish.
Brian wasn’t at the front desk, but I hoped a good night of sleep had made him see that I wasn’t the bad guy here. Maybe I’d bring him back a coffee as a peace offering. I strolled through the front doors of the inn and turned around to stare at the front. I wanted, really, to see it through the lens of a licensed Realtor, but instead I saw it with the eyes of the girl I had been. I felt an unexpected pang in my gut at the thought of it belonging to someone else.
I revved up my Mercedes SUV, then cranked up the radio to a hard rock station, and headed down the highway toward Main Street. Once I’d reached downtown, I saw the familiar sign for Bay Side Coffee, and turned down the cobblestone street. The shops, all pastels and gingerbread, stood neatly in a row, and I found nearby parking against the curb a block away.
When I stepped out of the car, I noticed my favorite taco place was gone, replaced by a surf shop. But the bakery was still there with its tempting treats on full display in the windows. The little dress shop had hats on display. My brother and I used to buy a new one for Grandma on each of her birthdays. She’d loved wearing big hats to keep the sun off her face.
Blue Moon Burgers sat next to the dress shop. When I was a teenager, that burger joint had been the spot where my besties and I hung out every day after school and on weekends. Olivia had once thrown up right in the potted hydrangeas by the front door after two grilled cheese sandwiches, a large fries, and too many chocolate milkshakes.
I’d been sitting in that very restaurant, slurping down ketchup-laden fries, when Megan told me she wanted to be a famous artist—a female Picasso. This was also the diner where Charlie had cried, after a high school cheerleader had stolen away the boy she liked.
Nostalgia struck me. Those had been good days and good friends too. It felt like another lifetime ago. With my career keeping me so busy, I didn’t have much time for friends. I went out for drinks sometimes with a colleague or client, and lunches with my assistant. But I hadn’t made any close friendships since my high school days, and those relationships immediately died when I left town and my former life behind.
Inside Bay Side Coffee, I was surprised to find a long line at the counter. I took that as a sign that the coffee was good. Two efficient-looking women operated the shop, writing names on cups, and yelling incomprehensible things at each other. The smell of freshly ground beans and steamed milk dominated the air, and I savored the scent.
Once I got to the front, I ordered two twenty-ounce lattes with extra shots of espresso, a couple of pastries, then jostled my way to the end of the counter to wait for my drinks. While waiting, I whipped out my cell to see if any clients had called while I’d been rocking out in the car to an old Van Halen song. No missed calls, but there were four texts from my assistant, Janine, despite the fact that it was only seven in the morning.
“Wendy Watts? Is that really you?” a female voice squealed.
At the sound of my name, I blinked and spun around. In front of me stood a petite blonde with bouncy curls. She wore a tight black tank top, baggy jeans, and her bright amber eyes peered up at me with delight.
My mouth dropped open. “Megan Wallace?”
She lunged forward, and hugged me hard. “It is you! I can’t believe it.”
A rush of emotion overtook me. Megan and I had met the first day of freshman year when the homeroom teacher seated us in alphabetical order. I’d been super shy through elementary and middle school—abandonment issues and all—and hadn’t made any real friends. So I was nervous starting high school, but Megan’s bubbly personality had put me at ease right away and we became best buddies.
“It’s be
en so long.” I laughed, squeezing her back. For such a little person, she had me in quite the bear hug. “How are you?”
“I’m great. Just wonderful.” Megan’s face glowed and she still seemed like the bouncy, peppy girl she’d always been. She kept hold of my arm as she turned to glance over her shoulder. “Look who it is, Olivia!”
“I see her,” a female voice said, her tone flat.
I felt my ribs caving in from Megan’s grip, but managed to twist around far enough to lock eyes with Olivia, who stood up from the tiny booth she had been sitting in. Megan, Olivia, Charlie, and I had been a tight-knit high school posse.
When we were kids, Olivia’s red hair had been her greatest misery. Now it was her best feature. The frizziness was gone, replaced by long sleek waves that hung down her back like a sheet of molten lava. Strands of gold shot through it, and her blue eyes, always hidden behind thick glasses before, were now peering at me from between a thick set of eyelash extensions.
“You look great Olivia.” I pulled her into our group hug, but she didn’t seem half as excited to see me as Megan did.
“You look great, too,” Megan enthused, attaching her hand to mine. “So grown up and fancy. Yeah, that’s the word. Brian tells me you’re in real estate and have billboard ads all over Sacramento. He’s so proud of you.”
I blinked. Brian? Proud of me? Apparently she hadn’t heard that I was the sole reason he was losing his home. Um, despite the fact that I had nothing to do with it.
“So what are you doing in town?” Megan asked, then her face immediately fell. “Oh, right. I’m sorry about your grandmother.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Olivia said, ushering our gathering toward the wall so a couple could get past us to put in their order.
“Thanks,” I said, my throat tightening. I’d complained about my grandma’s strict no-nonsense ways, but they both had loved my grandma too—especially when she’d made us late night snacks when we were cramming for tests. All of these memories were too much. I started to feel claustrophobic and dizzy. “I’m in town to sell the inn, but it needs a little facelift before we put it on the market. In fact, I’d better find out what’s up with my coffee and get going. I was just stopping buy to grab a caffeine boost before looking at paint samples.”
Megan’s eyes went round. “You’re selling the inn?”
“Of course she is.” Olivia’s tone was matter-of-fact. “Why would she hang around here? You just heard how well she’s doing in Sacramento. I’m sure she’ll be out of here by the end of the week.”
I raised a brow. Either she was having some serious PMS issues or she was mad at me, and I guess I couldn’t blame her. “I’ll be here for a month and we’re not selling the inn by choice. We have to sell. It’s a long story . . .”
One that I certainly didn’t want to get into at a small town coffee shop. People had big ears in small towns, and I didn’t need our ancestral inn making the hot gossip of the week. The conflict had me itching to take off, but there was something I had to ask first.
I bit my lip. “Have either of you talked to Charlie?”
Megan shook her head. “Not since she married Ronnie Clement. You know, Rex Rockwell? He changed his name once his first song took off. Thought it sounded more like a rock star.”
“Yeah, I read about that,” I said.
“They’re divorced,” Olivia added, putting her hand up to the side of her mouth for privacy—well, as much privacy as you can get in a buzzing coffee shop. “Smeared all over the tabloids that he’d cheated on her. According to the rag mags, she literally caught him in the deck hammock with some groupie at their mansion here in Blue Moon Bay.”
My eyes narrowed. “No way.”
“Yep.” Megan brought her hands to her cheeks, completing her exasperated expression. “He bought her a huge summer house here, then he got caught in it.”
“Got caught in the summer house?” I knew I had just repeated her words but I could not compute that Ronnie would cheat on her like that. Ronnie had been head over heels in love with Charlie. He’d pursued her for over a year before she’d decided to date him. How could he do that to her?
Megan shook her head. “I’m sure she was devastated, but we lost touch with her when she became all rich and famous. I heard she took Rex to the cleaners in the divorce, and good for her. They didn’t have a pre-nup since he was a nobody when they got married. The magazines said he gave her an extra huge settlement to keep her from badmouthing him in a memoir. Rumor has it she’s currently living in the mansion on the bluffs. I heard she had the porch ripped off and rebuilt though.”
“Wow.” I bit my lip, wondering how she was doing. Divorce was terrible enough, but to have the dirty details smeared all over the magazines? So awful.
“Olivia!” the barista called out.
“Finally,” Olivia groused, and walked away. I hoped the coffee would improve her mood but she stayed by the counter and sipped her coffee without looking at me.
“Is anything wrong with Olivia?” I asked.
“She’s still working at The Market, packaging seafood, so that never puts her in a good mood. But she’s just started up her own event planning business, Olivia’s Occasions. I think it’s going to be huge. Once she builds up some clients, I’m sure she’ll be able to quit The Market.”
The corner of my mouth rose. “You always were our biggest cheerleader.”
She shrugged. “I call them like I see them.”
“Megan! Wendy!” The barista heaved several cups onto the counter and gave us a wave that said she was too busy to have us standing around chattering on her watch. We automatically exchanged a secret look, agreeing with our eyes that the barista needed less shots in her coffee.
“It was nice to see you, Wendy.” Olivia flipped her fiery-red hair over her shoulder, then faced Megan. “We’d better head out. I need to be at work soon.”
“I’m giving Olivia a ride since Chutney broke down again.” Megan gave me a look that said that happened quite a bit.
“You still have that car?” I chuckled, since Olivia’s parents had bought that little blue sedan for her sixteenth birthday. She’d stained the back seat with chutney soon after during a particularly aggressive make-out session with her high school boyfriend who had bought her Indian food for dinner, but they’d gotten distracted. We’d all laughed about it and Charlie had named the car.
With a sigh, I followed them outside. We exchanged cell numbers and promised to meet for lunch. They gave me their condolences again on losing my grandma. We hugged, then they walked toward Megan’s car, and drove off together.
As they turned the corner and disappeared out of sight, I felt surprised that not all of my memories from Blue Moon Bay were horrible. I guess I’d kind of built it in my mind that way after I left. Maybe this was one of the reasons my grandma thought I should return again. If so, I had to admit she was right.
My grandma’s death had taught me that I needed to hold on to those I love, and not let myself get lost in only work. I’d missed my friends. I hadn’t even realized how much until I’d seen them again. Reconnecting with Megan wouldn’t be a problem. But rekindling my relationship with Olivia might prove to be more difficult. I needed to let go of my old insecurities and reach out to her. I just had to figure out how.
When I turned down the long driveway at the inn with my paint samples, I thought about how much work was needed on the inn and started to panic. Stress was normal for me. But giving my grandmother’s beloved ancestral inn a proper sprucing in only one month? That kind of pressure made me feel something far worse than stress, more like utter terror.
The inn contained five buildings in total and each building had ten rooms—five upstairs and five on the main level. The main building sat in the middle with its grand entry and double doors. Beyond the entry was the lobby, kitchen, dining room, lounge area, library, two offices, and the four bedrooms upstairs that we had lived in. That was a lot of space and most of it needed a facelift of so
me sort. We also needed to do something with the abandoned restaurant on the property that had closed when Mr. Duffy, the owner and chef, had died.
Let’s not forget that Brian was sure to be looking over my shoulder, scrutinizing everything I did and blaming me for anything that should go wrong. No added pressure there. Ugh.
I pulled into a parking space next to a luxury convertible, killed the engine, then glanced at the clock on my phone. Just before noon. It was a cowardly move, but checkout was at eleven, so I’d stayed at the paint store longer than necessary to make sure I wouldn’t run into Max here on his way out. The thought of never seeing him again left a small hole in my chest, but it was better to rip off the Band-Aid than drag out another good-bye.
Not that I wouldn’t love another round of the good-bye kisses he’d given me. Oh, yum. But he was off to Japan or wherever and I’d be back in Sacramento in a month, so there was no point in prolonging the end. That’s why I’d declined his offer to keep in touch. Even if we wanted to make something more of this, long distance didn’t work. I knew that first hand.
I gathered my samples and the estimates, then strode into the inn. Brian was behind the desk, wearing a badly wrinkled shirt. It was obvious he hadn’t shaved yet. It was possible he hadn’t combed his hair, either. A guest’s impression of the inn started at the lawn and continued all the way through. That was one of Grandma’s lessons that had stuck with me all my life. Since Brian knew that, too, it seemed like he wasn’t doing so well.
An elderly couple strode in from the hall and I waited until the foyer was empty, before I walked up to my brother, my voice purposely calm. “How are you doing?”
His brows quirked. “Fine. Why?”
I stared at him like he’d grown two heads. “Well, Grandma always said never to come downstairs until we were fresh and looked our best. Do you want me to iron that shirt for you? Or at least get you one that doesn’t look like you slept in it?”