Page 36 of Love At The Shore
Sandy had been so proud to have it installed. She vowed it would “elevate the coffee scene” on Tybee, and she’d been right. The only trouble was that she still hadn’t mastered its fancy operating system. So long as one of her part-time baristas was on the scene, everything was fine. But with Sandy at the controls, plain coffee was definitely the best option.
“It’s all me today. I sent Josh home about a half hour ago.” She flipped a switch on the espresso machine and steam came out of one of its openings.
Odds were it was the wrong one, but Lucas didn’t want to hurt her feelings. He pasted on a smile. “A cappuccino sounds great.”
Sandy’s face lit up, and Lucas couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been the first taker in the fancy coffee department since Josh had left. “Coming right up.”
“Thanks.” He glanced at the sludge coming out of the machine and promptly averted his gaze. “Listen, I was wondering if you could help me with something else.”
“Anything.” The older woman nodded. “Although, if you’re looking for surf magazines, I’m plum out. I can hardly keep them in stock this time of year.”
“No, thanks. I’m good.” He cleared his throat and looked around, just in case Jenna or one of her kids happened to be lurking behind a bookshelf somewhere. That Ally, in particular, was a stealthy one. “I’m looking for a book.”
“Any book in particular?”
He nodded. “Yes, a young adult fiction book by an author named Jenna Turner? I’m not sure what it’s called, but I think it’s the first book in a series.”
Curiosity had gotten the best of Lucas, and he’d Googled Jenna after their fateful volleyball match. He couldn’t help it. Her ace volleyball skills had him searching for information about her sports background, but as soon as he’d typed her name into the search engine, dozens of hits popped up about her literary career. Apparently, her debut book had been a smash hit. Book bloggers and readers were anxiously awaiting her sequel, which he assumed must be the book she spent all her spare hours working on back at the house.
He wasn’t sure what had compelled him to make the trip down here in search of her first book. Logic told him he simply wanted to give it a read because it had garnered such praise online. But he was beginning to realize that logic didn’t come into play much where his feelings for Jenna were concerned. Not that he hadfeelingsfor her, per se. Of course he didn’t. She was impossible with a capital I.
At the same time, he wanted to know more about her. He was particularly curious about her writing. Until he’d stumbled upon all the articles about her book, he’d honestly assumed she’d been joking when she told him she wrote teen fiction. Weren’t fiction writers supposed to have artistic temperaments? Obviously not. Judging by her personality, he would have guessed she wrote textbooks. Or computer manuals, maybe.
“Oh, of course we have that one.” Sandy pushed a giant cup of steaming something that in no way resembled a cappuccino across the counter toward him. “That author’s book was a bestseller, hugely popular with the tween crowd. The sequel is supposed to come out next year sometime. You just enjoy your coffee while I go find it for you.”
A smile tugged at Lucas’s lips. So Jenna was a well-known, bestselling author? Well, how about that.
The “cappuccino” was predictably terrible, but he dutifully choked it down while Sandy stepped over Tank and searched the shelves for Jenna’s name. Relief washed over him when she located the book and carried it back to the counter.
“Found it.” She handed it to him and took her place behind the cash register. “Anything else I can get you?”
He clutched the book to his chest with one hand and dug out his wallet from his pocket with the other. “No, this is it for now. But thank you.”
Sandy ran his debit card and handed it back to him. “I have to say, I can’t remember you reading YA before. Usually it’s surf magazines, local history or books about nature. Why the sudden interest in the fantastical adventures of a teen sailor?”
Tank looked up from his biscuit, ears pricked forward. He could be a nosy little thing.
Lucas glanced down at the book and flipped it over in his hand. Jenna’s photo looked up at him from the back of the dust jacket.
“I guess sometimes tastes change,” he said by way of explanation.
So much for logic.
Much to Jenna’s relief, Lucas was true to his word and honored the results of their wager. There wasn’t a volleyball in sight after she dropped off Nick and Ally at summer camp the following morning. Lucas’s Jeep wasn’t parked in its usual spot in the driveway, but he pulled up in the drive shortly after she got back and slipped quietly into his side of the house with Tank trotting happily behind him.
The scene on the opposite side of the fence had been strangely silent ever since—not that Jenna was complaining. She simply wondered what Lucas was up to, and then she reminded herself it was none of her business. She needed to take advantage of the peace and quiet while it lasted. The view off the duplex was as tranquil as a beach sounds relaxation app.
Strong cup of coffee in hand, Jenna tucked herself into one of the Adirondack chairs on the lower level of the patio and got to work. She pored over the pages she’d written so far and tried her best to come up with the perfect ending to her book. Despite the soothing surroundings, it just wasn’t happening.
What was she going to do?
Maybe I should just make the main character get lost at sea. The End. Then I wouldn’t have to figure out how to deal with any of these plot holes.
Somehow she didn’t think that would appeal to readers. Plus it felt like cheating. Also, she needed to earn her advance, so setting metaphorical fire to her book and walking away wasn’t an option. There had to be a way to end her story with a shiny red bow that would make everyone happy—her readers, her editor and most of all, her publisher, Stan. Because if Stan wasn’t happy, her newly successful career as an author just might be over.
She stared so hard at the typewritten pages, willing an ending to materialize, that she almost didn’t hear her cell phone’s ringtone as it chimed from somewhere beneath her pile of papers and writing books.
“Shoot, shoot, shoot! Where are you?” Coffee cup abandoned, she dug around until she found the phone buried beneath a throw pillow decorated with sea turtles. “Gotcha.”
