Escape to Indigo Bay: Four Sweet Beach Reads (Indigo Bay Sweet Romance Series)

by Jean Oram

  It would be nearly impossible to find a matched set of scallop shells, but the five-year-old took off running, his head moving back and forth as he eagerly searched the sand. Ben felt kind of bad sending him off on an impossible errand, but figured it was worth it to give him more alone time with Eva.

  They walked past Miss Lucille’s house, rising three stories and ringed with balconies. Ben had never been inside, but when they were little, he and Gina had made up stories about Miss Lucille’s Fort of Surveillance. Inside would be set up like a crime lab from the movies—a dozen heavily muscled agents in black jackets sipping coffee in front of computer screens as they monitored everything that happened within a five-hundred-foot radius of the property; a helicopter waiting on the roof for a quick escape; three dozen cameras trained on the beach to keep an eye on the tourists; and a special forensics lab to determine exactly whose dog had pooped on the lawn.

  Tonight, though, all the windows were dark except for one, where a small lamp burned on the lower level. Miss Lucille had mentioned setting him up with … was it her niece? He’d told her he planned to focus on work, but that had changed when he’d seen his mom coming across the sand with Eva.

  He glanced sideways at her, noting how the moonlight kissed the bridge of her nose and the pale skin on her forehead. Her hair was so dark it blended into the shadows, but her enormous eyes glowed blue. He felt a stirring in his gut. She was reserved, but she’d laughed a few times at dinner and he’d found himself craving the sound, wanting to hear it again and especially wanting it to be because of him. He had an almost irrepressible urge to start showing off, like a teenager trying to impress a girl, wanting to be the source of her joy.

  “Best thing about the chocolate shop—go,” Ben said.

  “The chocolate, duh,” Eva said with a teasing lilt in her voice.

  “And I’ll bet Miss Eulalie lets you eat as much as you can, right?”

  “Of course,” Eva said. “We’ve got all the basic food groups covered: white in the morning, milk at lunch, and dark for dinner.”

  He laughed. “Sounds like the perfect job.”

  She threw him a quick smile, and he fought back a wild impulse to start doing push-ups.

  “Actually, I like making them more than eating them. Is that weird? There’s something so satisfying about pulling the fondant out of the melted chocolate, putting a perfect little curl on the top.” She hesitated. “Sorry, that probably sounds lame.”

  It didn’t sound lame at all. It made him want to watch her work, see her eyes come alight when she got the perfect curl.

  “Uncle Ben, look at this!” It was Abbie this time. She extended her palm to reveal what looked like a small rock, only it was a matte green and gleamed in the moonlight.

  “Sea glass,” Ben said. He plucked it from her hand and ran his thumb along the rounded edge. “Nice job, this is a good one.”

  “Sea glass?” Eva asked.

  Ben handed it to her and watched as she rubbed her delicate fingertips over it in fascination.

  “It washes ashore from all over the world,” Abbie declared proudly. “Daddy says each piece could be hundreds of years old.”

  “It’s really beautiful.” Eva held it up to let the moonlight shine through the frosty surface.

  “Greens and browns are the most common; they’re usually from soda or beer bottles,” Ben said. “Or sometimes industrial glass like fishing floats. Most of it’s litter, but some comes from shipwrecks.”

  Eva ran her nail along a small niche in the glass where the sand and salt hadn’t had time to completely obscure the shine. “It’s really neat,” she finally said, offering the glass back to Abbie.

  “You can keep it,” Abbie offered.

  “Are you sure? I mean, if it’s rare …”

  Abbie shrugged. “I have a lot of green at home already.”

  “Thank you.” Eva gave the girl a warm smile. “I love it.”

  A whistle sounded above the waves, and Ben recognized it immediately, his dad’s call to muster the troops. The children heard it too; they did a one-eighty and charged back down the beach to where the embers of the fire hadn’t quite died out.

  “Ben, can I ask you something?” Eva said as they followed the kids at a slower pace.

  “Sure.”

  “Did … did I steal your apartment?”

  “Huh?”

  She waved her hand toward the dunes, where the rooftop of his parents’ house was visible. “You could have had the apartment over the garage. Only now you can’t, because I’m there.”

  Ben laughed. “Honestly, the thought never occurred to me.”

  “You weren’t planning to stay there?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I love my family, but I don’t want to live at home again.”

  “Your family is great,” Eva said with a slight defensive touch to her voice.

  “True. But after being away for so long, I’m okay living across town from them. Don’t worry,” he added quickly, not wanting to worry her, “they’re a little intense sometimes, but way more Stark clan than Lannister.”

  He’d been going for a laugh, but the look she gave him was totally blank. “Lannister?”

  “Like in Game of Thrones? The Red Wedding, Rains of Castamere? We’re not into revenge killing. Though sometimes as kids Tyler and I would fight so much that—” He stopped when he saw the look on her face. The color had drained from her cheeks and her eyes were glazed, unfocused. “Are you okay?” Ben asked. He grabbed her arm, afraid she would faint, or something.

  Eva shook her head as if to clear it. “Right, Game of Thrones.” Her voice shook. “Sorry, I got distracted for a second.” She threw a look to where the party was breaking up. “We should probably go help.” Before he could say another word, she hurried off, practically running down the beach away from him. During the chaos of cleaning up, she slipped away before he could tell her goodbye.

  Eva closed the door and leaned against it, as if she could somehow shut out the past with her body. She turned the lock and dropped her shoes by the door, then dug the piece of sea glass from the pocket of her skirt. It was cool and smooth with indentations that fit against her fingertips perfectly, like a worry stone. She set it on the bookcase next to the lamp.

  Worry was right. Clan. Revenge killing. He’d thrown those words around like they were nothing and sent her spiraling back into memories of dark days that were best forgotten.

  She groaned. Of all the people in Indigo Bay to feel a spark with, she had to pick the cop? How long before he started digging into her past and showing up at her door wanting answers she couldn’t give?

  Eva dropped her head into her hands as old fears and new combined to buzz at the base of her skull like a swarm of angry bees, trying to find a way in. Could she ever stop running?

  “So what’s the deal with Eva?” Ben asked. He shook out a blanket, then draped it over the rail of the deck.

  “What do you mean?” his mother replied. “I think she’s a sweet girl. Pretty too.”

  Yes, she was certainly pretty. But something was wrong. He thought they’d had a good rapport going, so why had she run off? “She seems really jumpy.”

  “What are you guys talking about?” Tyler heaved the cooler onto the deck. He shot a glance at Ben, his eyes twinkling. “Let me guess. Eva?”

  “Yes, and how many times have I asked you not to empty water onto my wood?” With a theatrical sigh, their mother spun the cooler so the spout jutted over the edge of the deck and the melted ice water ran into the flowerbeds.

  Tyler grinned at his mother, then turned to Ben. “Do you like her?”

  “I don’t even know her,” Ben said.

  “Uh, yeah. That’s why you ask her on a date; so you can get to know her.” Tyler pointed out. “She’s cute, seems nice, and is obviously into you. This should be cake, little bro.”

  “What makes you think she’s obviously into me?” Ben asked. The idea of Eva being “into him” sent a shot o
f adrenaline zinging through his veins.

  “Really?” Tyler scoffed. “You didn’t notice the way she looked at you? Man, if you’re a cop and this bad at reading people, no wonder Atlanta didn’t work out.”

  “Tyler!” their mother gasped.

  Ben gritted his teeth. “Or maybe I got tired of watching teenagers killing each other,” he snapped. He leaned a knee onto the trash bag full of paper plates and newspapers, squashing it until he could tie the ends.

  “Sorry,” Tyler said, his voice contrite. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  Ben kept his eyes focused on the trash bag. “Don’t worry about it.” He tied off the bag and picked it up. “I’m going to throw this away.”

  “Ben,” Tyler urged. “Don’t be mad. I’m teasing.”

  He lifted one hand over his shoulder in acknowledgement as he disappeared around the corner of the house to the trash cans.

  Atlanta, or more accurately Griffin, was painful enough without people rubbing it in. There was no other way to look at it: he was a failure. He’d swaggered off to the big city, ready to make a difference, and had come running home with his tail between his legs.

  Ben lifted the lid on the trash can and dropped the bag inside. The cans were lined up next to the garage, and overhead, a light shown in the window of the apartment. The window to Eva’s bedroom. The blinds were shut, but he stood for a moment staring up at the rectangle of dim yellow light. Why had she run away from him so suddenly?

  Chapter 5

  Eva’s education within the Family had been spotty. She’d learned the basics at a homeschool, but the curriculum focused on Prophet Neezrahiah’s religious teachings and not much else. According to the prophet, the aliens who had established life on earth were due to return soon. Upon seeing the wickedness of humankind, they would annihilate almost everyone, saving only a select few, the faithful—the members of the Family.

  The exact date of the apocalypse had changed a few times over the years, but when Eva was growing up, it was set for December 2012, lining up with the end of the Mayan calendar. With such a firm end date in mind, there didn’t seem to be much point in traditional education. Why learn the rules of a world that would soon cease to exist?

  So when she’d started cleaning Mrs. Dora England’s house at age sixteen, Eva had a fourth-grade education. And it might have stayed that way, except Dora England was a rich empty nester with time on her hands and a firm belief in acquiring knowledge. Eva’s cleaning routine quickly morphed into something else as Dora sought to make up for Eva’s missing knowledge of math, science, civics, history, humanities, and computers. She gave Eva unlimited access to her extensive library and even enrolled her in online high school. They spent many hours at the kitchen table together while Mrs. England helped Eva earn a GED.

  Without Dora England, Eva would not love books and learning, and she felt a surge of renewed gratitude as she climbed the library steps on the Tuesday after the beach party.

  The Indigo Bay Library was by far Eva’s favorite building in town. Converted from an antebellum mansion, it had all the glamour of its former glory, including elaborately carved woodwork and high ceilings with intricate moldings. The tall fireplaces had witnessed many conversations among gentlemen with soft Southern accents, and the curved staircase whispered of Scarlett O’Hara, holding her enormous skirts out of the way and batting her eyelashes as she descended. A large veranda was filled with comfortable chairs and ceiling fans with palm-shaped blades that turned slowly in the breeze.

  But Eva’s favorite place was the window seat on the second floor at the back of the nonfiction section. The wooden bench, stained and worn smooth, nestled into a large bay window that offered a view of the ocean. The faded cushion was lumpy from years of use, but three plump pillows more than made up for that.

  At some point in the library’s past, they’d started running out of room, and someone had extended a shelf so it partially blocked the window seat. The tall shelf was densely packed with books—perfect for screening the seat from view and creating a cozy reading space.

  Since leaving the Family, Eva was increasingly aware of how much she didn’t know, and the library had become an important source of information on everything from chocolate-making to politics. She sometimes used the internet, but she preferred the solidity and solitude of books.

  It was her day off and she’d awoken to a storm blowing in off the Atlantic. But Eva didn’t mind the steely-gray skies. After cold cereal for breakfast, she’d hurried through the drizzle to the library, where she’d collected a huge stack of books, then collapsed into the window seat. Tucking a pillow behind her back, she plunged into the pages. The glass from the mullioned window was cold, but her oversized oatmeal-colored sweater blocked most of the chill.

  She didn’t know how long she’d been reading when there was an enormous crash and the tower of books she’d stacked on the bench by her feet avalanched to the floor.

  “Oops, sorry,” a familiar voice said.

  Eva raised her head and met Ben’s brown eyes. In the four days since she’d seen him, she’d thought of him way too often. She froze as a dozen different emotions raced through her—excitement at seeing him again, embarrassment for sneaking away, and, oh goodness … was this desire? Her nerves sizzled.

  Ben held a book tucked under his arm like a football. He wore a pair of faded jeans and a soft plaid shirt that looked like it had seen many, many washings. Was it bad she wanted to snuggle with his shirt?

  “Sorry,” he said again, stooping to gather her fallen books.

  “It’s my fault. I always get too many,” Eva said quickly.

  He piled her books onto the bench and flashed her a grin. “Nah. You can never have too many books, right? And you’ve found the best spot in the building; this was always my favorite, too.”

  They locked eyes for a moment and the only sound was the rain pattering on the window. She wanted to say something, apologize for sneaking away after the beach, but the words wouldn’t come. “There’s room if you want to stay,” she finally said.

  “You sure?” His chocolate eyes lit up, and when she nodded, he settled onto the window seat and tipped his head sideways to read the titles on her stacks of books. “Wow, everything from sewing techniques to historical fiction, huh?”

  “I like learning new things.”

  He shuffled the books to pick up a thick novel. “Game of Thrones … excellent! Well, technically A Song of Ice and Fire, but you know what I mean. You’ll love it. But you can’t cheat and watch the TV show first,” he added quickly. “You have to wait until you’ve finished the books.”

  “Okay,” Eva agreed, totally lost.

  “And the last seasons of the show go beyond the books, so even though it happens in the show, it might not have happened in the books—yet or ever,” he said seriously.

  “Uh, why?”

  “Why what? Why don’t they match?” Ben settled his back against the window and crossed his arms, looking serious. “Well, George R.R. Martin hasn’t finished book six and the show caught up to him. They couldn’t wait for him to release the next book, because who knows when that will be, so they decided to go ahead and write their own scripts.” His forehead wrinkled in thought. “I don’t actually know which I like better; they each have their own merits. So you’ll have to read the books, then watch the shows, and we can compare notes.”

  Funny how such a simple word as “we” could make her heart jump, implying there was something they shared together, just the two of them. “Okay, books first, then the show,” she promised.

  “And what’s that one?” He pointed to the book she held open in her lap.

  She flipped the cover so he could see the title—Everything to Know About Collecting Sea Glass. “Abbie may have started an obsession in me,” she admitted. “I’ve started combing the beach looking for more glass, but I haven’t found any yet.”

  Ben’s smile warmed the small space. “Well, it can be pretty rare, especially
big pieces. Usually you only find shards. Have you ever been to Fort Bragg? They have an entire beach made of glass.”

  “Fort Bragg?” Eva frowned. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “It’s by San Francisco,” Ben explained. “They used to dump trash into the ocean and all the glass got tumbled and washed up on the shore. Now it’s a tourist attraction.” His forehead wrinkled. “I don’t know why I know all this. I spend too much time on Wikipedia.”

  San Francisco. Eva could hardly imagine it. Her world inside the Family had been so small, their sphere of influence limited to the hills of North Georgia. They’d grown up being told everything outside the Compound was irrelevant, dangerous, or hostile. But since coming to Indigo Bay, Eva had realized there was a huge world out there she’d only dreamed about. And so far, it wasn’t dangerous, especially not when compared to what happened inside the Compound.

  “What are you reading?” she asked, seeking to drive away the dark thoughts.

  “Lawrence Oates.” Ben held up his book, which had a black-and-white picture of a group of men standing in the snow.

  “Who is Lawrence Oates?”

  “Army officer, explorer extraordinaire, and all-around hero,” Ben replied. “He was part of an expedition in 1911 to reach the South Pole. I saw a documentary about him last night on Netflix and wanted to learn more.”

  “Did they make it? To the South Pole?”

  “Yeah, but that’s not even the story.” He ran his thumb down the spine of the book. “Storms kicked up as they were hiking back to their base camp. They’d left supplies along the way, but with the bad weather, their progress was slow and they didn’t have enough food or medicine. Several of the men had already died and the rest were sick—frostbite, scurvy, all kinds of nasty stuff. Oates was the worst off and he told them to leave him behind so they could move faster, but they refused.”

  Eva stayed quiet as Ben stared past her out the rain-washed window. His dimple went into hiding when he became serious.