by PJ Lincoln
CONTENTS
Title Page
Dedication
Also by PJ Lincoln
Thank you
Chapter One - PPO
Chapter Two - Meet Matt Fischer
Chapter Three - Matt vs. Eddie
Chapter Four - Getting Ready
Chapter Five - The Date
Chapter Six - The Day After
Chapter Seven - Leaving On A Jet Plane
Chapter Eight - Happily Ever After
Untitled Document
IN THE SUNSHINE
PJ Lincoln
Copyright © 2013 PJ’s Books, LLC
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this story are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
For Cora, the love of my Life
Also by PJ Lincoln
Born Again
The Eden Effect
These works are available for your Kindle at Amazon.com
The author loves hearing from readers. Please contact PJ Lincoln at [email protected]
Thank you to Bryon Quertermous, editor of In The Sunshine. I appreciate your eagle eye and the feedback you provided on the manuscript. It helped tremendously.
Reach Bryon at: http://bryonquertermous.com
Thank you to my family. You indulge me with the time I need to write and it means a great deal to me. I love you all.
CHAPTER ONE
PPO
Regan Morel stirred after a loud knock on her apartment door. She glanced at the digital clock on her nightstand and instantly went from groggy to annoyed when a second knock came.
It was six o'clock in the morning and the knocking could only mean one thing: Eddie Levan. Regan jumped out of bed, ran her right hand through her dark brown hair and bolted for the front door. As she had predicted, Eddie was standing there when she opened it. He held out an assortment of spring flowers and smiled with his perfect set of white teeth.
"Really?" Regan said. "Is this the part where I swoon and fall into your arms?"
Eddie shrugged. "I just thought--"
"That's a contradiction in terms. You don't think, because if you did, you wouldn't be here. Hang on just a moment. I want to show you something."
Regan left the door ajar, stepped back into the apartment and headed straight for her galley-style kitchen. She removed a refrigerator magnet and grabbed the piece of paper it held.
"Can I come in?" Eddie called out.
"No. Don't move."
Emily, Regan's roommate, emerged from her bedroom rubbing her eyes and stumbling toward Regan. "What's going on?"
"Just another visit from Edward," Regan said.
"Jeez. Can't he take a hint?
"I'm about to remind him."
"You want me to call the cops?"
Regan was so angry she felt as if she could kick a Marine's ass at the moment. "Oh, no. I’ve got this one. Go back to bed, Em. This won't take long."
She marched back to the front door and Eddie was standing there with his hands on his hips looking, as much as Regan hated to admit it, hot. It was that hotness factor that brought them together in the first place.
Eddie Levan was built like a Greek god and had a face to match. He was tall at 6'4, had the ripped look that Regan adored, and, yes, an ass that put Channing Tatum's to shame. Eddie's pretty-boy face was framed by long, wavy black hair. If Hollywood ever did a remake of Tarzan, he would have to be cast.
Regan shoved the piece of paper in front of his face. "What does this say? You can read, right?"
Eddie snatched the paper from her hand. "I know what it is: 'Personal Protection Order.' Completely unnecessary, Rea, you know? Are you going to take these or not."
"I don't want the flowers, Eddie. I don't want you. How many different ways do I need to say it. You screwed up--"
"It meant nothing. It was a frat party. I got wasted and that little freshman--"
"Was handy? I've heard all your excuses. It's time to move on. I have and you need to. I could call the cops right now and have you removed."
Eddie grinned. He tossed the bundled flowers inside the apartment. "Okay, play it that way for now. I'm feeling you. But you know, you still love me. You're not going to throw away two years for one little mistake."
Regan closed her eyes and blew a strand of hair out of her face. She didn't think it was possible, but Eddie's good looks were actually eclipsed by his ego. Truth was, his one-nighter was the out she had been looking for over the last six months of their "relationship." Still, his bravado was on her last raw nerve.
"I'm not going to stand here and debate this with you," she said after a long moment. "We are done. Go home now and don't come back. Leave me the hell alone, Eddie."
He glared at her and smiled again. Eddie Levan turned and walked to his BMW convertible in the adjacent parking lot without saying a word. As he got in, he waved goodbye. A squeal of the tires and gunning of the engine later, he was on Ocean Beach Boulevard zipping away.
REGAN LOVED DAISIES. In fact, she loved all of the flowers in the arrangement Eddie had tossed on her tile floor: Stargazer lilies, blue iris, white daisies, orange mini carnations, purple statice and yellow solidago. She knew her flowers from her days of working at an FTD shop back home in Illinois.
Still, as much as the flowers' fragrance delighted her, she probably should just toss them in the trash. Why be reminded of that jerk? The flow of adrenalin had ebbed and she could feel herself growing tired again. Having worked until close at the Sandbar Sports Grill meant she was running on scant sleep. She decided to put the flowers in water and determine their fate in a few hours.
Regan heard Emily snoring as she walked past her bedroom. She smiled and hoped she'd be slumbering just as contently in a few minutes. Her room was a hodgepodge of furniture purchased mainly via garage sales and thrift shops. She liked to think of it as eclectic: an antique Tiger Oak dresser and mirror, a white vintage French provincial nightstand, and a four post canopy bed with sheer white netting that added ambiance and protected her from the inevitable stray mosquito that found its way into her Cocoa Beach apartment.
The Florida sun hadn't yet made its full ascension into the sky. It was mid May, a variable time of year that could bring a cloudless and comfortable high in the seventies, or oppressive humidity and nineties. Having spent the first eighteen years of her life enduring brutal midwestern winters, Regan didn't mind either. She slipped into bed and pulled a cotton sheet up to her chin.
Her thoughts wandered between Eddie and trying to figure out what she was going to do with the rest of her life. She had graduated a semester early from Central Florida University with a degree in Early Education. Regan worked the first few months of the year substituting in several school districts adjacent to her home during the day, and waitressing at the Sandbar at night.
Breaking up with Eddie had uncomplicated at least that portion of her life. In the six weeks since their separation, she hadn't even thought of dating someone else. For now, it was extra shifts serving up burgers, fries and fish tacos to lily-white tourists, beach parties and friends.
At a quarter past seven, Regan finally gave up on getting anymore sleep. What she needed at the moment was coffee and a chat. Emily White was not only her roommate, but her chief counselor. Though just nineteen, the Atlanta native was wise beyond her years and so very calm. All the time. It was as if Emily was the straight man to Regan's comedic life.
When she knocked on Em's door with a cup of coffee, she was met with a knowing smile.
"How long have you been awake?" Regan asked.
"A few minutes. I smelled the coffee brewing." Emily sat up in her bed, crossed her legs Indian style
and patted a spot next to her. "Sit."
Emily had a natural beauty that Regan tried not to be too jealous of. Her light ebony skin was as perfect as a newborn and her long hair fell in thin, straight cornrows that gave her an exotic, earthy look. Her cheekbones were high and her eyes were chocolate brown and shaped like almonds. Regan could easily envision a long career in broadcast journalism that Emily was planning.
"He still pushes my buttons," Regan admitted. "I am furious and I don't ever want to see him again. But I miss him, too. Is that messed up or what?"
Emily sipped the coffee. She moved her legs out in front of her in a stretch and considered her roommate's words. "You are upset?"
Regan smiled. "How could you tell?"
"You make the best cup of coffee anywhere, hun, but this isn't one of your best efforts. It lacks balance. Your relationship with Eddie lacked balanced, too. That's why it didn't last. Partying and great sex only get you so far."
"He did most of the partying," Emily said.
"Yet he gave you what you need at the time. Right?"
"Excitement. He was unpredictable and his way of life was totally different than anything I had ever known."
"You got caught up," Emily said. "You had fun, but you're also a smart girl and eventually realized it wasn't going to be a long-term deal. You're only mistake --"
"Was not ending it sooner. I kept hoping he might change a little, you know, grow up."
"That's the problem. Guys like Eddie don't grow up. Rich family and all. He's never had to earn anything and probably never will. His parents are classic enablers."
Regan exhaled and drained the last of her coffee, which she agreed, wasn't award winning. "So where do I go from here? Fending Eddie off has gotten really old. The PPO doesn't seem to be much of a deterrent."
"From his perspective, it makes you hard to get, a challenge," Emily said. "He likes that, plus--"
"Plus what?"
"He may think he loves you. But a boy like that doesn't know the first thing about love. You're just a stray toy he wants to get back."
Regan nodded. She looked up at Emily, smiled and then noticed her digital alarm clock. "Nine forty five. I've got to get ready for lunch shift. Are you scheduled?"
"Tonight. I've got a final this afternoon, so I'll be studying until then. Gonna be hard, though."
"I know, right," Regan said. "Perfect morning. Perhaps you could study on the balcony?"
"Too many distractions. It's media law, so I really need to concentrate."
Regan hugged her tight. "Thanks."
Emily smiled. "Don't let Edward ruin your day. Good music down at the pier tonight. Why don't you go and get your mind off of him. Have a margarita or two?"
"We'll see."
CHAPTER TWO
Meet Matt Fischer
As he approached the Sandbar Sports Grill, Matt Fischer paused for a moment to take in the entrance. It was a mouth, a Tiki mouth to be exact, or so the Ron Jon Surf Shop salesman had told him. Teeth protruded from the roof while flared nostrils and close-set eyes glared down at patrons, almost daring them to walk in. The cheeks of the structure were a rich brown with an orange tinge caused by the strong Florida sun or a talented artist, he couldn't decide which.
Matt's eyes swung away from the mouth to a hand-painted mural. It displayed various sea creatures enjoying the Coca Beach waves. That's exactly what he intended to do for the next few days, enjoy the Atlantic Ocean. A banner on the mural proclaimed the establishment was the "Home of the Fish Taco." He walked from the bright sunlight into the darkened bar and vowed to find out what a fish taco was all about, though his imagination conjured an image of fins and eyes staring back up at him.
"Welcome to the Sandbar," a middle-aged hostess said as he stepped inside. "Would you like a table here or something on our deck?"
"I need all of the sun I can get. Let's do the deck."
Bamboo accented the walls as did numerous flat screen televisions showing soccer matches, SportsCenter and a Miami Marlins baseball game. Well-worn surf boards hung from the ceiling and signs with classic sayings such as, "have to pee, follow me" covered the walls. Matt glanced at a throng of people sitting at the bar. Most of the women were wearing jean shorts and sleeveless, loose-fitting shirts while the men seemed to prefer cargo shorts and polos. A few well-tanned faces looked up at him as they weaved through tables heading toward the deck. He smiled back, something he hadn't felt like doing in months.
People always reacted to him. Perhaps it was his size. His six foot frame carried an inordinate amount of muscle, something he actually didn't work hard to maintain. Then again, it might be his crew cut. Coupled with his German heritage and his no nonsense demeanor, it gave him the aura of a tough guy.
"I'm Connie," the hostess said. "Where you from, hun?"
"Detroit."
"Where's the family?"
The question made him uncomfortable. Until a year ago, the idea of family seemed like a natural. He and Jen would have a slew. He closed his eyes for a split second and Jen's face pierced through as it always did, no matter where he was at or what he was doing. It was like a thousand pins constantly pricking at his heart.
"I'm flying solo today."
Connie led him to a section of high-topped tables, each protected by a Corona beer umbrella. Matt pointed to one facing the ocean.
"Regan will be your server. You enjoy, hun."
Matt watched her disappear back into the bar and wondered if all the locals were as friendly. He scanned the ocean and noticed the tide was slipping out to sea. People were hundreds of yards into the water and it still didn't rise above their chests. The late afternoon sun felt good on his arms as he stretched beyond the umbrella's shade. He stood and then stepped a few feet away. The warmth on his body felt like rays of rejuvenation.
"I wouldn't stand there too long, as pale as you are."
Matt turned and a young woman in jeans and a royal blue Sandbar t-shirt glared at him. "You must be--"
"Regan? And you are?
"Matt. Do you always ask the names of people you wait on?"
"Always, yes."
He let out a pfff. "Seriously?"
"It helps build a trust relationship that I find particularly useful."
"Bigger tips?"
She pointed her pin at his nose. "Now what can I get you, Matt."
"Do you have Bass Ale on tap?"
"Does this look like an English pub? How about a Corona with lime?"
"Well, Regan, I don't normally go for something so light, but I'll trust your judgment."
"Good idea, Matt. I'll be right back."
His eyes followed her back to the bar. He knew he couldn't be more than five or six years older than her, but she looked like a kid. Matt had seen too much of life for someone that hadn't yet hit thirty. That’s what being a cop did for you, he thought.
His iPhone vibrated. A text message from Wade.
"Burnt yet, Casper?"
"Working on it," he replied, his thumbs moving at less than lightning speed.
"Skipped out of town w/o your bud. Scum!"
Matt had been best friends with Wade McGrath since grade school. While they didn't share the same profession or even lead similar lives, they were still tight. Wade had pushed him to take the trip.
"What can I say?"
"Just givin ya some shit, dude. How's the 'scenery?'"
"Perfect. Not a cloud in the sky."
"U are hopeless. Stop moping about the ex already…"
Matt rolled his eyes and was about to type a reply when Regan returned with his beer.
"Why the sour face?" she asked.
He studied her for an instant. Her complexion was silky. Light freckles gave her that girl-next-door look and her blue-green eyes appeared kind.
"I'm smiling on the inside. That's what counts, right?"
"Around here? It's all about appearances. Do you know how hard it is to play nice with everyone that walks through our front door?"
"You mean your front mouth?"
Regan jabbed him in the shoulder. "Wise guy. You know what I mean. I swear if I see one more fake tan today --"
He held his pale right arm up to hers.
"See, now, I like that," she said. "You're not pretending to be something or someone you're not."
He shrugged. "What you see is what you get."
"I respect that, Matt, I really do. Now, what can I get you?"
AS SHE DID DOZENS OF TIMES EACH SHIFT, Regan called out her order to the kitchen and tacked the ticket to a wheel that hung above the grill where Sid stood guard most days at the Sandbar. He was as much a part of the woodwork as the various kinds of stuffed fish on the walls.
She turned back toward the bar, her hip bumping Connie's as she passed. These kinds of touches throughout the course of an eight hour shift were as unavoidable as a football player being hit during a game.
"You've got a brooder on the deck, eh?" Connie said.
"Sad eyes," Regan said. She scooped ice into a pair of cups and poured iced tea for an elderly couple that had just been seated. "Seems nice, though."
"We're getting a lot of those lately."
"It's the time of the year, isn't it Connie?"
"Sure. These yankees have been trapped inside all winter. They're depressed and don't even know it. That's why they come. The sun calls to them and then lifts their spirits."
Regan stuck a wedge of lemon in each glass of tea. "I never knew you were such an observer of human nature."
"Why else would I want to run this place?" Connie said. "It ain't for the money, honey."
Regan smiled. "I thought you and Sid were building a nice nest egg from this place."
"Huh? Yeah, right." Connie circled around Megan and went to the front of the restaurant to greet its newest guests.
Megan delivered the drinks and took Don and Mary's order. Before heading back to the kitchen, she went to check on the big guy sitting alone on the deck.