Love Lost & Found (Surfside Romance Book 2)

by L. A. Justice

  Luke drove leisurely up A1A just above the speed limit, remaining alert for cops with radar guns. He wanted to let the Tesla drive itself, but with flocks of bicyclists swarming past as bright as Amazonian parrots, he kept his hands on the wheel.

  “Hannah’s a great kid,” he said. “It’s unusual to have such a responsible teen. I know Zelda’s in good hands.”

  “She’s terrific. The way she handled Gretel was amazing.”

  “Yeah, sorry, I missed that drama.”

  “You didn’t miss much. I was a wreck. Still, she’s got a rocky road.”

  “Teenage angst?”

  “And disappointments. Large ones and small.”

  “They’re part of life. She’ll figure it out.”

  “I guess so.”

  Alexa felt hollow inside leaving Hannah alone. Was it a good idea? She was riddled with doubt. But unless there was an emergency, there was no turning back.

  They rode in comfortable silence for a while admiring the scenery. They were traveling north, but having been so insulated since arriving last June, she knew virtually nothing about the flora and fauna. Although she’d heard there were more than a hundred varieties of palm trees, they all looked virtually the same: long, thin brownish gray trunks and green fronds swaying in the ever-present breezes. The clouds were gorgeous and always changing. The ocean seemed to look different every time she saw it, sometimes crystal blue and sparkling and at other times angry greenish brown.

  Although grounded with the landscape around her, she was totally at sea with Luke. She hoped they were moving toward a deeper and more meaningful relationship, but she always felt as though she was on a slippery slope. It was like climbing an icy cliff—not that he was freezing her out at the moment, quite the contrary—but he’d done it before. His hot-cold button sometimes flipped on and off so quickly she found it baffling. Like at New Year. His unpredictability took her breath away. What if she said the wrong thing at the altar—assuming they got that far? Would he storm down the aisle and leave her stranded? She dared not even think beyond the weekend.

  To take her mind off Hannah and the uncertain future with Luke, she turned her attention once again toward the novel-writing contest. Four months had passed and now she felt under the gun. Last year she ended up with a great big nothing. That wasn’t happening again but she’d already had a few false starts. Her gut told her Bryan was wrong about keeping herself out of the drama. She had only her experiences to draw upon. This year she had to get it right. She had to deliver.

  “Why so quiet?” Luke asked.

  “Thinking about my book.”

  “How far have you gotten?”

  “I’m starting over. Everything I’ve written is garbage.”

  “You’re hard on yourself.”

  “I guess. So let me run some ideas by you.”

  “I’d be honored to help a budding author get a foothold in the dog-eat-dog world of publishing.”

  “Really?”

  “You bet. You’ve got to grab them by the balls at the first line and never let go.”

  “Okay then, here goes.” She pulled out her cell. “It’s easier to dictate into the phone. Do you mind?”

  “Knock yourself out.” He squeezed her leg affectionately. She patted his hand.

  “Crying was not an option as Vicki Ferrante barreled south on I-95, in her old beat-up Ford to start a new life in Florida.”

  “Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt. Is she Italian?”

  “No why?”

  “Ferrante sounds very Italian. How about Vicki Coughlin?”

  “That’s too much like my maiden name Conklin. Maybe Vicki Kinkaid?”

  “Kinkaid is very Lifetime movie-ish.”

  Alexa studied the mansions along the roadway: big, bigger, and biggest. Pretentious targets for hurricanes.

  “Vicki Mallory,” he suggested.

  “Mallory Crawford.”

  “Thanks, good call.”

  “It’s fun to be part of the process.”

  She began again: “Crying was not an option as Mallory Crawford barreled south on I-95, in her beat-up Ford to start a new life. She glanced at the speedometer. Only a few miles over the limit, not fast enough to attract the attention of the state troopers. That’s all she needed. A traffic stop. It wasn’t as if she were kidnapping her daughter. Actually, she was saving her. Or, to be more specific, saving herself.”

  Stopping for a red light in Palm Beach, he turned toward her. “Am I going to be one of the characters?”

  Her heart sank. Last time this happened he ghosted her for months.

  “Only if you’re okay with it.”

  “As long as I’m not a werewolf or a dwarf.”

  “That’s a little person these days.”

  “Can I be the handsome devil who gets the girl?”

  “Only if you prove yourself trustworthy, kind-hearted, sensitive, selfless, and affectionate.”

  They kissed briefly. The light changed. As he drove, the muscles of his face tensed and relaxed, allowing a peek at the man under the mask. Putting Luke in the book was risky at best, a surefire way to end the relationship at worst.

  “Do you have a title?” he asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “How about Starting Over?”

  “That might work. But it’s not catchy.”

  “Tumbleweeds.”

  “I like that, but it sounds like a Western,” she said.

  “I give up. You’ll figure it out.”

  “It’s a stupid idea. I’m not supposed to write about my life.”

  “Why not?”

  “The boss says so.”

  “Bryan? He’s dicking you around. All writers write about themselves. Look at Hemingway.”

  Alexa had never taken Luke for a deep thinker. A hard worker, yes. A reader of classics, no.

  “All writers struggle,” he said. “Then they put the angst into words and win big prizes or become bestselling authors.”

  “I’m surprised.”

  “Surprised that I read or that I care about your writing career?”

  “All of the above.”

  “So write what’s in your heart.”

  “Even if it involves you?”

  “Why not?”

  She wondered if he was saying that to appease her, to preserve the peace for lovemaking or if he meant it. She put the phone in her purse and set all thoughts of writing aside. This was a weekend of relaxing, not working or even thinking. Time to give the brain a rest.

  Forty minutes later, they pulled under the portico of the Marriot Beach Resort on Hutchinson Island. A valet scurried over, unloading their meager luggage onto a cart.

  Hand-in-hand they strolled into the towering lobby. Alexa, the observer, absorbed the lavish ambiance of magnificent framed watercolor paintings, intricate patterned marble floors, and white leather sectionals. A stunning chandelier caught the sunlight spilling in from floor-to-ceiling windows, shimmering like a diamond waterfall.

  Upstairs in their suite, she moved from room to room soaking in the extravagant tile bathroom, built-in Jacuzzi, king-sized bed with silver sateen comforter and contrasting bolsters, and fully stocked mini-bar. They stood at the window marveling at the spectacular sight of the vast and alluring Atlantic, his arms entwined around her waist. Warm breaths sent tingles down her spine and goose bumps up her arm. This was a moment to remember forever.

  Later, after a swim in the pool and sex in the Jacuzzi, they entered the Grand Ballroom like royalty. A five-piece combo played soft jazz for the Palm Beach glitterati: ravishing women in exquisite beaded dresses and men in thousand-dollar, custom-tailored suits.

  La crème de la crème.

  Luke kept a protective arm around her as they drank in the intoxicating aroma of money and power. In this bewitching real-life fantasy, with her gossamer gown and Champagne flowing, Alexa was transported to a realm far beyond anything she’d ever experienced. And the enchanted fairy tale intensified after they left the pa
rty and returned to the suite where their exuberant moans filled the night air.

  In the morning Luke nuzzled her neck. “You smell like French toast.”

  She laughed easily. “That’s from breakfast.” She pointed to the service cart and the empty plates, the pot of coffee, and the damask napkins hanging over the edge. “There’s some maple syrup left if you want to go another round.”

  He got up and brought it over as they laughed and went for the trifecta. Later, she stretched cat-like, her naked body dappled with sunlight.

  “I could stay here forever,” she purred, running her hand over his tight abs. “This is heavenly.”

  They lingered until checkout at eleven and drove home along the coast road in no hurry, both content and satiated.

  Hannah texted: Thank Luke for the donuts. Tell him Zelda’s AOK.

  They held hands as pelicans in V-formation skimmed the shoreline and ospreys plunged into the water in search of fish. Despite the lack of declaration of his love and without a heart locket or promise ring, Alexa felt more content than she ever thought possible. A ring tone deep within her purse took her by surprise. She dug it out expecting to hear Hannah. But the frantic voice on the other end was not her daughter.

  “It’s Teena. Alexa! OMG, there’s been a horrible accident!”

  Her body braced impact. Bad news was barreling toward her like a flaming missile straight from Portland.

  “Rick’s in the ICU.” Teena fought to control her voice. “I’m begging you. Please come soon—before it’s too late!”

  CHAPTER 54

  IN A HEARTBEAT, the exquisiteness of her fantasy weekend was replaced with a cold wave of dread. Barely able to breathe, she pictured Rick Harlow pale and lifeless in the morgue.

  Luke overheard her end of the conversation. He pretended to be a good listener, even as she knew he was tuning out the drama. His eyes flicked around, looking everywhere except in her direction. He didn’t ask who it was. His body language was defensive, his attitude disinterested. That was the sad and unvarnished truth.

  At the Oceanview complex, he maneuvered into a guest spot and shut down the engine. They hadn’t spoken for the last twenty miles, his stiff demeanor made every nerve in her body shudder with anxiety for their future, especially since she was already distraught with the news from Portland. Guilt rose like a tide in her chest. She let out a sigh to end all sighs.

  Stepping from the Tesla, she spotted Hannah dragging a black Hefty trash bag to the Dumpster. Lakhi had two smaller ones for the recycling bins. Without a word, Luke pulled her tote and evening gown from the cargo area and headed upstairs.

  “How’d it go?” Hannah asked. “Where’s your big shit-kicking grin?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Why is Luke already upstairs? Don’t tell me you’ve blown it again.”

  “I haven’t blown anything. Let’s go inside.”

  Luke dropped the tote on her doorstep, hung the plastic bag over the balustrade and vanished into Zelda’s apartment. Hannah put her hand on Alexa’s arm.

  “What the hell Mom?”

  Alexa shook her head. Not now. Upstairs she picked up the dress and tote. The apartment appeared clean, except for a few splotches where soda had spilled. A water stain seeped out from the AC unit. After hanging up the dress, she pulled open the bi-fold door. “Grab some towels. Cripes almighty. Didn’t we just have this fixed?”

  “Last summer. Before my birthday party.”

  Alexa tugged her pink T-shirt down over her black capri pants. “Please clean the mess on the couch. If it’s soda, use a wet towel. We need to talk, but I need to calm down first.”

  Hannah took a defensive stance, her legs apart, and hands on hips. “It’s not like we burned down the apartment.”

  “I feel so much better already.”

  “Mom, chill! Nothing’s broken, there’s no blood or guts, no dead bodies.”

  “Are you listening to yourself?”

  “I never listen to myself.”

  Alexa marched to the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, combed her hair, and applied lipstick. Her eyes were dull and sad. She said, “I’m going to Publix.”

  “I’m sorry you guys had another blowout,” said Hannah. “Men can be such pricks.”

  Alexa managed a weak grin. “Thanks for caring. But it’s not what you think.”

  She reached for the car fob in the small Baccarat bowl on a glass shelf near the door.

  “Where is it?”

  Bewildered, Hannah turned her palms up.

  Alexa’s brow furrowed. “It didn’t just walk away.” As the words escaped her lips, her eyes widened. Bolting outside she peered down to the parking lot. “Where the hell is my car? Where’s my car! Shit. It’s been stolen!”

  Luke rushed out, phone in hand, and followed her gaze to the empty space. “I’m calling the cops.”

  “No, don’t!” Hannah’s face paled under a cloud of untamed curls. She hiccupped. “I don’t want to get anybody in trouble.”

  Struggling to remain calm, Alexa said, “You said only three people were coming over and you knew them all.”

  “I hope it wasn’t Doc,” Luke added sternly. “I’d hate to see a basketball scholarship go down the tubes.”

  “It wasn’t him,” she whined. “I know it wasn’t.”

  As Luke explained the situation to the 911 operator, Alexa slid through an hour glass of lost time. First Rick’s accident and Luke turning to ice, and now this.

  It didn’t take long for a black-and-white Deerfield Beach police cruiser to pull up with an electronic blurp. Two officers got out.

  “Didn’t think we’d be back here so soon,” said a tall, beefy older man with thinning hair and the nametag Don Crutcher.

  “There was a disturbance last night,” Victoria Pullum, a pretty, petite blonde explained to Alexa and Luke. “Multiple calls rolled in at this address citing loud music and rowdy teenagers.”

  As if in slo-mo, they all surveyed the damage: streamers floating like colorful eels in the pool, soda cans and beer bottles littering the grass, bags of discarded chips, dozens of cigarette butts, toilet paper festooning the palm fronds, and lounge chairs sunk into the deep end of the pool.

  Alexa cried out, “WTF? We can’t afford to get evicted!”

  Hannah hunched up her shoulders, neck disappearing into her T-shirt. “We hired two guys to keep out gatecrashers. But they let everybody in.”

  Officer Pullum pulled out a notebook. “First, I’ll need a description of the car, the tag and the registration. But to be honest, chances of finding it are slim.”

  “I’ll need a complete list of everyone who was here,” Crutcher said to Hannah, escorting her to the cruiser as Pullum advised Alexa to file a report with her insurance company.

  “I hope you have uninsured motorist coverage. Gangs are notoriously rough on stolen vehicles.”

  “Gangs?”

  “They fence stolen property and deal drugs. The good news is they usually get caught. You already know the bad news.”

  “I’ll drive you to Avis or Enterprise,” Luke offered, his eyes tired, clothes rumpled. As if on cue, a sudden rain squall blew in. Scrambling for shelter, Alexa realized both umbrellas were in the stolen SUV.

  Upstairs she quickly changed her shirt, grabbed her wallet and rain slicker, and hurried back down and climbed into the cruiser with Pullum.

  With her mother occupied, and eager to get away from the scene of the crime, Hannah climbed out of the cruiser and up the steps to Zelda’s where she showed Luke to the stash in the guest bathroom. She flipped back the curtain. “Voila.”

  “What the?”

  “Everything’s accounted for.”

  “Aunt Zelda, can you come here for a minute?”

  She ambled in and surveyed the items. “Well, well, well.”

  “Can you explain how they got here?”

  A smile curled on her lips. “I’ll bet it was some old geezer in shiny polyester with yellow st
ains on his fly.”

  “Can you be serious for a minute?”

  “I am.”

  Hannah held up the video camera to Luke. “The answer may be in here.”

  Then she picked up the purse and reached in, extracting a business card. Travis Slade. I’ll take you anywhere.

  Zelda grinned. “He’s taken me on the most excellent adventures.”

  Luke took the card. “Let’s give him a call.”

  “He’ll be sleeping. He got home late.”

  “Really?” Luke pulled out his phone to dial. “I’m calling anyway.”

  “Great. Knock yourself out. Be my guest.”

  She paused, thoughtfully.

  “While you’re at it, please ask him to pick up Chinese food. He forgot to bring it last night.”

  CHAPTER 55

  HER EYES were swollen from crying. The refrigerator was empty. The police report still hadn’t been picked up. The insurance forms needed completing. She had to pack for Portland and tell Lana she’d be out on Friday. Her stomach was twisted in knots. Above all, Alexa was deathly afraid that Rick, who was in a medically induced coma, would die before she arrived. She couldn’t think beyond that.

  Hannah, who was grounded, had begged to go.

  “You won’t be allowed in the ICU.”

  “I’ll hang out with Teena.”

  “It’s not a social visit,” said Alexa. “Luke’s in charge while I’m gone, but he’ll have you on a tight leash.”

  “I bet he’s bummed you’re going.”

  “That’s not up for discussion.”

  On the way to rent a loaner from Enterprise, he’d been quiet, not morose exactly—perhaps best described as sulky.

  “We were friends in middle school and dated seriously our senior year,” she told him. “But whatever you think happened between us at Christmas didn’t. I hope you believe me and we can move on.”

  She avoided mentioning Rick’s recent midnight phone call. Even so, he seemed to know there was more to the story. But this wasn’t Truth or Dare. If she said anything, he’d never trust her again. He barely did now. Saying sorry was easier than feeling it. She had nothing to apologize for. She hadn’t stolen her own car, nor had she caused Rick’s accident. The whole thing sucked, but none of it was her fault. She apologized anyway.