Pelican Pointe Boxed Set Books 1 - 3 (A Pelican Pointe Novel)

by Vickie McKeehan

  She could admit that now.

  She tried to think back how long it had been since she’d had a date. Last year’s Christmas party popped into her head. Ten months ago she’d brought a man to the event but for the life of her she couldn’t even remember the guy’s name or his face.

  How pathetic, she thought now as she waited for her mother to pick up.

  “Emile. Oh honey, it’s so good to hear from you. Is everything okay? Are you all right?”

  Her mother still couldn’t get used to the name Hayden Ryan, and for the most part, Hayden let it slide. “Mom. Hi. I just wanted to let you know I’ve settled in someplace, although it’s not Santa Cruz.” For the next ten minutes, she told her mother as much about Pelican Pointe as she could in the short allotted timeframe, along with how nice Nick and Jordan had been to her.

  The call ended much too quickly because Hayden always kept the calls to a ten-minute minimum. She knew it could be a pain to boost up the pay-as-you-go phone. And a hundred and fifty minutes went surprisingly fast when you needed to hear a friendly voice every so often. She was already down to a measly fifty-something minutes since she’d last bought cell cards in Nevada. Of course, she still had one or two prepaid phone cards she could use from a pay phone if she chose to do that. They always came in handy when she couldn’t get cellular service.

  With tears in her eyes, feeling more than a little melancholy, she pulled back onto the road and made her way to the business district of Pelican Pointe.

  Her life was never going to be the same. But maybe, she thought as she parked the car, change was a good thing.

  She left the ugly costume in the car while she wandered along Main Street peering into the dirty windows of each abandoned storefront, making notes on how large the places were and what kind of condition they were in. Most were way too spacious. Others needed too much work. And to her amazement Springer Realty owned most of the buildings including the one she had her eye on across from the church. Well, that sucked. It would have been the perfect location on numerous levels. Not only was it a high-traffic area right on Main, it was near the church which meant that people would most certainly drop in, if out of nothing else but curiosity. Plus, someone had already taken the time to build shelves into three sides and throw light blue paint on the walls. In addition, it fit Nick’s idea of preferred square footage, which she estimated to be no more than 750 square feet.

  But if Jordan said Springer wasn’t to be trusted, who was she to question her judgment? She had to believe the woman knew what she was talking about.

  Reluctantly, she moved on around the corner and started walking up Inlet Bay toward Ocean Street and the waterfront. She walked past The Pointe, an upscale dining establishment with white lettering on the side of the brick that indicated the place at one time had been an old fish hatchery. She had to admit this area of town, offered more local charm than the business district on Main.

  Not only that, but there was one little Spanish style stucco house painted bright yellow that had caught her eye the other day. She wanted to check the place out. Actually, she thought it looked as if it had once been a business of some kind because there was an empty space where it looked as though a sign had once hung on an ornate overhang outside. Even though the flower beds and yard were a bit overgrown she wanted to take a look at the inside through the windows. If it didn’t need too much work, the location would be ideal because it was smack dab in the middle of where the locals shopped, mingled and lived.

  Getting into the thrill of starting a business, Hayden decided what this area of town needed was a good used bookstore.

  When she read the realtor sign in the overgrown front yard that advertised a Santa Cruz phone number, Hayden pumped her fist in the air and did a happy dance. How Kent Springer Realty had missed listing this perfect little house she didn’t know and didn’t care. It had to be a good omen.

  Since the house was one of those across from the waterfront, it had an amazing view of the ocean, as did all the houses along this street. In fact, she tilted her head and could make out the sound of the waves lashing about at the wooden pylons below the pier.

  As she drew closer, intending to peer inside the windows, check the place out, she heard a woman’s voice yelling as if in distress. No, the woman was screaming at the top of her lungs desperately trying to get anyone’s attention she could, something about her child, a little boy.

  “Please, someone help me. Help me! My little boy is out there. He fell in the water! Help me! Please!”

  Hayden ran across the street to the wharf and scrambled to the woman’s side. “Where?” Hayden was already toeing off her shoes, pulling off her socks.

  “There. He fell in there, next to the pier. I can’t swim. Please, please don’t let him drown.”

  Sure enough Hayden saw movement off to the side of the pilings. Without waiting another precious second, she dived into the water, swam out a couple of feet or so before rounding back to the wooden pilings of the dock. There she spotted the little boy struggling with the undertow. It looked as if he was going down for what could have been the third time. Hayden caught him around the neck and began pulling the now limp, unconscious child toward land, all the while fighting the current. By the time she got him to shore, a crowd had gathered.

  “Call 911,” she screamed. Her lifeguard instincts kicked in. She immediately tried to get some response from the child by gently patting his small, pale face with her fingers. When nothing happened, she turned him on his side, swept his mouth to make sure it was clear. She lifted his chin to open his airway and covered his mouth with hers, blew in two quick successive breaths, waited for his chest to respond. After several interminable seconds when he still lay lifeless, she did it again. The minute she saw the boy’s chest rise slightly, she repeated the process. As soon as his chest movement became more pronounced, she placed her palm in the middle of his breastbone, began compressions, and started counting to one-hundred.

  She’d gotten to thirty-five when, all of a sudden, the boy coughed and threw up salt water.

  Chapter 5 Book 2

  Wearing his wetsuit, Ethan had just stepped out his front door onto his porch carrying his surfboard when he saw the throng of people gathered down on the beach near the pier. He leaned his board back up against the porch and took off across the street in a run toward the wharf. After making his way through the bystanders, he was shocked to see Hayden, soaking wet, giving CPR to a small boy of about five. He watched as the kid threw up a lungful of ocean.

  “Has anyone called 911?” he asked, as he bent down to where Hayden worked on the boy and watched as she continued to rub his back, while a woman, he assumed was the child’s mother leaned over and scooped him into her chest.

  “I did,” Flynn McCready, owner of the bar, offered. “They’re sending an ambulance out of San Sebastian.” When it looked like the boy began to shiver, Flynn took off a black and silver Raiders jacket and draped it around the little guy’s shoulders.

  “Good,” Ethan said as he watched the mother grab Hayden around the neck and bring her into a bear hug.

  “Thank you! Thank you! How can I ever repay you? One minute we were walking along the pier, looking at the boats and the next thing I know Justin had climbed up on the railing. I yelled for him to get down but before I could get to him he’d slipped and toppled over. I heard a splash and realized he’d fallen in.”

  “No problem,” Hayden breathed out, as she hugged the woman back. “I’m glad I could help.”

  “You knew exactly the right thing to do,” the woman announced, as she introduced herself. “I’m Jessica Hardin by the way. And this is Justin, my five-year-old son. We came over from Scotts Valley to visit my mom who had surgery last Friday. I didn’t think it would hurt to go for a walk on the pier and show Justin the boats.” She sobbed, “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

  Her wet jeans and shirt made Hayden start to shiver. “That makes two of us. What time is it?”

&nbs
p; Ethan looked at his watch. “Five after four.”

  “Crap. I’m late for work!” Hayden jumped up, ran back to the pier to get her shoes and socks and started to tromp off through the sand toward her car still parked down on Main.

  After taking no more than three steps, Ethan grabbed her arm. “I’m just across the street, no more than forty yards away. Let’s get you dried off.”

  She stopped to stare at him. “I’ll dry off on the walk to my car where I need to get that pitiful outfit on and get to work.”

  Ethan didn’t miss the glazed look in her eye. Was she in shock? “I’ll call Margie.” He patted his pocket for his cell phone and remembered he was wearing a wetsuit and his cell phone was back at the house. He’d been about to go surfing. He grabbed Hayden’s arm and started walking back toward his house. “Come with me.”

  Hayden jerked out of Ethan’s hold on her arm. “It’s my second day. I can’t afford to be late. Margie was very specific—”

  “You saved a little boy from drowning out here today, Hayden. I’m pretty sure that entitles you to be late for work. Believe me, Margie will understand.” He took her arm again and dragged her along through the thick sand. With every step, the sand stuck more heavily to her wet feet and her bare legs where her jeans ended. When he stopped in front of a Pueblo-style adobe house, he attempted to pull her up the walk and inside.

  “Wait a damn minute. I need to wash off my feet. I’m a mess. I’ll track sand all over your floor.”

  Ethan rolled his eyes. “Sit down on the steps then.” He knelt down to brush off some of the wet sand from her feet and legs with his hands. Her legs were ice cold. The woman was freezing to death in her wet clothes and she wanted to spare his floor from a couple of grains of sand. “Believe it or not living at the beach, my floor has seen wet sand before today. Now get inside.”

  She followed, albeit halfheartedly. And was immediately attacked by a fawn-colored dog the size of a small horse. Grisham jumped up, landed on her chest with paws the size of pie plates. The force knocked her back a couple of steps.

  “Down, Grisham. Sit,” Ethan ordered, snapping his fingers while pulling on the dog’s collar. “He’s harmless. Get down, I said.” He yanked a little harder and the dog reluctantly gave up the pressure of his front paws on her boobs. “Sorry about that. Grisham dropped out of obedience school, actually, that isn’t true. It was more like he got kicked out.”

  “Like the dog in that movie, Marley and Me?”

  “Exactly.”

  She laughed as she grabbed the dog around his neck. “Well, you’re just a troublemaker then, aren’t you? I like dogs. He just surprised me, is all.”

  Ethan went straight to his cell phone, dialed a number by heart. “Margie, this is Ethan Cody. We had a little excitement over here at the pier. Yeah, she did. She jumped right into the water, didn’t hesitate. Right. She’ll be a little late. Okay, I sure will. I’ll see that she’s all right before letting her come in to work. Give her about an hour, okay? Thanks.”

  Ethan took off to the bathroom, came back with several large beach towels.

  Hayden stood where she was in the postage-sized vestibule. Her heart still raced, she felt a little lightheaded.

  In the distance she heard sirens and couldn’t help wondering about little Justin. She hoped he was okay. Before Ethan could catch her, she sunk to the floor in a heap, exciting Grisham even more. The dog took the opportunity to give her several licks to the face for good measure.

  Ethan gently pushed Grisham aside and dropped down in front of her.

  “All those summers I spent as a lifeguard. That’s the first time I’ve ever had to save anyone. My knees are still shaking.”

  “We need to get you warm. That water had to be sixty degrees.”

  “I…I…didn’t feel…a thing.”

  “Adrenaline, now your teeth are chattering,” he reminded her, as he started drying off her hair first before wrapping the other giant towel around her shoulders. “Start taking off your clothes.”

  Hayden might have been in shock from the experience but she eyed him as if he had two sets of horns growing out of his head. “Yeah. Right. Sure thing, Deputy…Cody. I’ll…just start…stripping for you.”

  His lips curved. “As much as I’d love for you to strip just for me, those clothes need to come off. Now be a good girl and go in the bathroom. It’s just down the hall there and to the right, take off your wet things. I’ll throw them in the washer and then dry ’em for you while you’re at work. Do you need help getting to the bathroom?” He started helping her to try to stand.

  She sucked in a breath, blew it out with a large sigh. “I can get there on my own.”

  “Good. There’s a clean robe in there, put it on. Hand me out your wet things when you’re done.”

  “I need my costume for work.”

  “I’ll go get it. Where are your car keys?”

  Just as she got to the door of the bathroom, she turned around, threw him the keys from her jeans pocket. “I’m parked in front of the flower shop.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  She heard the front door close and knew he had taken Grisham along with him.

  She wasn’t helpless for chrissakes. After she removed her clothes, she slid on his plaid flannel robe. Tentatively, she opened the door of the bathroom, peeked out. She walked around the house until she found the laundry room herself, which was right off the kitchen. Her jeans, top and panties went into the washer while she threw her bra into the dryer for ten minutes on delicate. She’d need the bra to wear under that stupid, thin pink sweater top and she didn’t have time to wait for it to wash.

  Remembering the socks on the porch, she ran outside to retrieve them. On her way back inside, she stopped to gawk at what she’d missed earlier. One end of the rectangular living room floor to ceiling was nothing but shelves filled to capacity with books. She walked over to study the titles. His tastes ran the gamut. Rows of history books competed with space for classic literature. He had books on architecture, astrology, geography, the paranormal, Native American spirituality, Middle Eastern foreign policy, ancient Egyptian art, true crime, thrillers, mysteries, and every John Grisham hardcover the man had ever written.

  Realization dawned.

  He’d named his dog after the author. About that time the booklover opened the front door.

  Ethan found her standing in his living room perusing his books. “I thought you’d be taking a hot shower by now,” he admonished. He handed off the pink poodle skirt and sweater top, the bag with her saddle shoes inside, and her purse, which felt like it weighed ten pounds.

  “I went ahead and started the laundry. I forgot my socks though.” She stood there in his bathrobe holding her damp, sand-gritty footwear.

  “I’ll put them in. Now, go on, take that hot shower. You’ll feel better.”

  Ethan took the socks while she headed back into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

  Ten minutes later, wearing the robe again, she emerged from the bathroom. The house seemed strangely quiet, no sign of either Ethan or the dog. She tip-toed straight to the dryer, grabbed her bra and ran back to the bathroom to get ready for work.

  She blow-dried her hair using his brush, re-applied her make-up, adding a little eye shadow and mascara. But it wasn’t until she started getting into that costume that she realized her mistake.

  She should have put her panties in with the bra to dry instead of in the washer. The poodle skirt was thick enough fabric that you couldn’t exactly see through it, but still… Should she stop the washer, retrieve her panties, and wear them soapy and wet? Ugh! She didn’t want to do that. But then, how could she go to work without wearing underwear?

  After a few minutes, she made her decision. Would anyone really notice she wasn’t wearing panties under the skirt?

  Decision made, sans panties, she walked out into the living room wearing her ridiculous poodle outfit and saddle shoes without socks, carrying her purse. The front do
or flew open and Ethan and the dog reappeared as if they’d been outside on the porch waiting for her. At some point, he’d changed out of the wet suit and into well-worn jeans and a blue sweat shirt that said “Spike’s Bar & Grill.” Then she realized that he and the dog must have gone back to the beach to check on the little boy.

  “How’s Justin?”

  “They took him to the clinic to let Doc Prescott check him out. He’s damned lucky you were there and knew what to do. He’ll be fine.” He suddenly looked her up and down, cocked his head to one side and sent her a wide grin. “Very nice, Hayden-no-middle-initial-Ryan.”

  “I’m glad you approve, Deputy Dawg, but I’ve got to go. Thanks for the use of your shower and for washing my clothes. Could you bring them—?”

  He nodded, answering her without letting her finish. “I’ll get your clothes back to you before you go home tonight.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ll drive you to work.”

  “Don’t be silly, it’s not even four blocks. I’ll walk.”

  As if he knew exactly which buttons to push, he said calmly, “Okay, but I thought you were worried about being late…”

  “Fine then.”

  He locked up, leaving Grisham whining at the front door. Before they got to his truck though, he inexplicably took her arm and swung her around to his chest. He lowered his head and covered her mouth.

  Lips seared together. White hot fire roared up between them.

  Her breath backed up as she clung to his shirt, giving back every bit as good as she got. They fed off each other’s mouths. Blinding arousal staggered her as she fought with his tongue. When they had to breathe, he released her. A gasp escaped as she finally stepped back just to keep from sampling more of him.

  “Jesus, you taste good. I had to get that out of the way,” Ethan admitted.

  Her head reeled. She sputtered out, “You don’t trust me, remember?”