The Island Retreat, page 1
The Island Retreat
Getaway Bay, Book 4
Elana Johnson
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
April 14, the next year
Sneak Peek! The Island Escape Chapter One
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Chapter One
“All right, guys.” Shannon Bell put her purse over her shoulder and clicked her way toward the front door. “Be good while I’m at work.” She flashed a bright smile to her two cats, both of whom sat at perfect attention a few feet away.
Of course, neither of them responded to her, and Shannon went out the door and down the steps. She had a routine she followed each morning, and she was right on schedule to hit Roasted at their slowest time between eight and nine.
She’d tried different times, and eight-twenty in the morning seemed to be the best time to get her daily dose of caffeine before she had to go to work at Your Tidal Forever. She loved her job, though it was a bit intense from time to time.
“At least the celebrity wedding and the royal wedding are over,” she told herself as she buckled her seatbelt and started her car. She loved this car, and she lowered the top to let in the spring sunshine as she started toward downtown Getaway Bay.
She hooked her purse over her arm as she walked into the coffee shop, running her fingers through her hair to tame some of the messy curls back into waves. Only four people waited in line, and Shannon smiled to herself that she’d timed her coffee shop visit exactly right again.
Shannon prided herself on the details of things. It was what made her a good secretary, and why Hope Sorensen at Your Tidal Forever had told Shannon she could never quit.
Her body was still recovering from the high-profile weddings over the past couple of months, and she wished she wasn’t such a night owl. That, or she needed another job where she didn’t have to be to work by nine.
But she had a secretarial degree and a professional certification in organization. So she was well-suited for the many moving parts a wedding planning business required, and she’d enjoyed her last five years at Your Tidal Forever.
Well, most of the time she enjoyed the work. Sometimes Hope could be a little intense, and when they had two of the biggest celebrities tying the knot one month, and then a prince getting married only a couple later, there had been times that Shannon felt like she’d lose her mind with all the tiny pieces that needed to be finished on time.
In the five minutes she waited to put in her order for a large caramel mocha, the bell on the door rang eight more times, and she asked for a cranberry orange bran muffin too, as she rarely ate breakfast before she left the house.
With summer right around the corner, Shannon had dozens of tasks to be completed that day, and she’d be lucky if she got fifteen minutes for lunch. Maybe she could get Riley to get food for everyone, or she’d just run down the boardwalk to the Ohana Resort, which had recently opened a shop that served soups, salads, and sandwiches for the professional lunch crowd. The Lunch Spot promised food in ten minutes or less, and they had dozens of tables in the sand that always seemed full.
She got her coffee and turned to leave. Her eyes scanned the line of people waiting, catching on a tall, good-looking man she’d seen every day for a long time. She couldn’t pinpoint when she’d first met Doctor Jeremiah Yeates, or when she’d learned his name, or when she’d realized that he worked in the building just down from Your Tidal Forever.
It seemed like they’d known each other for a while, and she waved to him as she passed.
“You beat me today,” he said with a smile, and she couldn’t help the little laugh that came out of her mouth. She quelled it by sipping her coffee, because while she and Jeremiah were friendly, there had never been much of a spark there.
She knew his name and where he worked. That was all. They could probably ride to work together if they wanted to, but neither of them had ever brought it up. And Shannon wasn’t going to today either.
Yes, Jeremiah was handsome and clearly well-off, as Shannon never saw him wearing anything but an expensive suit, and she’d seen him when he got to Roasted before her—he bought coffee for his whole office.
Every morning, the man bought coffee for his whole office. Shannon couldn’t even imagine Hope doing that, though the owner did sometimes bring in food, but usually for clients and the employees just ate what was left over.
As Shannon walked across the parking lot to her car, her purse swinging and the coffee in her hand a bit too warm to really drink. Shannon was more of a lukewarm coffee lover, and she probably wouldn’t touch her brew for another hour at least.
She found a couple standing at the front corner of her car, and she glanced at the man, a blip of anxiety flipping through her. She clicked her keys to unlock the car, though the top on the convertible was still down and if there had been anything worth stealing inside, it probably would’ve been gone by now.
The couple moved away, and Shannon glanced at the front of her beloved car. It was fine. Of course it was fine. Getaway Bay didn’t have a high crime rate, and Shannon didn’t really have anything to be worried about.
Except the flat tire staring back at her.
“Oh, no,” she said, the words part of a much larger moan. She opened the door and put her purse inside, as well as her coffee. Then she placed her hands on her hips and faced the tire. Her father had taught her how to change a flat tire, as well as her oil, but Shannon never used the lessons. She had money, and why should she shimmy under her car when Max could do it at the lube shop for thirty bucks?
But Max wasn’t here now, and Shannon had a ton to do at work. She opened her trunk and pulled back the roof to reveal the spare tire. She had no idea if she had the right tools to change a tire, but she was going to find out.
She found a X-shaped tool that she seemed to recall her father using to loosen the bolts. Bolts? That didn’t seem like the right term, but Shannon literally made appointments, took messages, and tasted wedding cakes for a living.
The tool fit over the bolts, and she twisted. Nothing happened. After several more minutes of straining and trying to get even one of those stupid bolts off, and sweat poured down Shannon’s face. Her blouse had come untucked and she had no idea where her heels were.
She crouched next to the tire, frustration about to make her say or do something she’d likely regret later—like calling her father for help.
“Can’t do it,” she said, and she also regretted her skirt choice, as this one was a little snug along her waist and hips.
“Need some help?” a man asked, and Shannon startled toward the deep, familiar voice. She twisted and peered up at none other than Jeremiah Yeates and the two trays of coffee he held in his hands.
“I have a flat tire,” she said, trying to straighten.
Horror struck her like lightning at the sound of a seam riiipping, and she spun to put her backside against her cherry red convertible.
To Jeremiah’s great credit, he acted like she hadn’t just split her skirt open and stepped over to the hood of the car, where he set down the seven cups of coffee. “I think I can change a tire.”
“I haven’t been able to get off the bolts,” she said, wiping her bangs off her forehead. Her hand came away wet, and more embarrassment squirreled through her.
“Let’s see what I can do with these lug nuts,” Jeremiah said, taking his suit coat off and draping it over the driver’s side door. He wore a light blue, short-sleeved dress shirt, and Shannon couldn’t help but admire the width of his shoulders and the obvious strength in his biceps.
Shannon looked away, her heart pounding a bit harder than normal for a reason she couldn’t identify. So Jeremiah spent some time in the gym. So did a lot of men.
He picked up the tool she’d been wrestling with and crouched where she’d been. With the first yank on the wrench, the bolt—lug nut, whatever—came loose, and Shannon felt another blast of humiliation.
Jeremiah made short work of the lug nuts and pulled the full-size tire off. “Yeah, it looks like you drove over a nail,” he said.
“Oh,” she said. “I live over in the Cliff Cove area, and they’re doing some construction up there.”
“Yeah,” he said with a big grin. “I live up there too.”
Surprise pulled through her. “You do?”
“Yeah, off White Sails Lane.”
That was only a few blocks from her, and she said, “I’m off Five Island.”
His smile was glorious and beautiful, and why hadn’t Shannon ever noticed it before? She tucked her dark hair behind her ear, wishing the sun didn’t make her whole head feel like it was ablaze.
“I’m going to be so late for work,” she said. “I’m so sorry. Are you—do you have a patient this morning?”
“I’m okay,” he said, walking to the back of the car to get the spare tire. “Let me text my secretary real quick.” He pulled his phone out and started sending a message, prompting Shannon to do the same thing. Hope couldn’t blame her for being late if she had a flat tire. In fact, Shannon beat Hope to the office every day anyway.
“Shannon?” he asked from the trunk, and Shannon looked up from her phone.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think this spare is any good.” He glanced at her and back into the trunk.
She shimmied along the side of the car and placed her palm flat against her backside as she turned to stand right beside him. She peered into the trunk too, asking, “What’s wrong with it?”
“Look how it’s cracked along the side there?” He ran his finger along the edge of the tire. “We can’t put this on.”
She appreciated the use of “we,” but she had absolutely not idea what to do now.
“I can give you a ride to work,” he said. “And maybe you can call someone to come tow the car and get the tire fixed?” He looked at her like she had resources to do that. And she did, but she didn’t want to call her dad and admit she couldn’t change her own tire.
“All right,” she said. “Are you sure it’s okay?”
Jeremiah grinned at her. “It’s no problem, Shannon,” he said. “We work right next door to each other, and I just found out you’re like, three blocks away from where I live.” He hefted the flat tire into her trunk and slammed it closed. “So it’s absolutely no problem.”
Shannon couldn’t help returning his smile, because it was just so dashing, and he was so good-looking, and he smelled like cologne and sunshine and dark roast coffee.
As she collected her purse and coffee and walked with him over to his car, Shannon wondered why she’d never looked at Doctor Jeremiah Yeates more than once on her way out of the coffee shop.
Chapter Two
Jeremiah’s heart pounced around his chest as the blocks passed from Roasted to Shannon’s house, and then from there to the boardwalk where his practice sat next to Your Tidal Forever.
Just ask her, he told himself for probably the tenth time.
He’d always found Shannon Bell to be beautiful, exotic almost, and completely out of his reach. She wore blouses with flamingoes or horses or pineapples on them. She wore black or navy pencil skirts, or sometimes long, flowy dresses that brushed the sidewalk. If she wore pants, they were slacks, and he wondered what she’d look like in a pair of skinny jeans.
No, he told himself, banishing the fantasies from his mind. He barely knew Shannon, though he’d seen her in line at the coffee shop for years now. The day he’d realized she worked at Your Tidal Forever, a mere twenty feet from his office, had been a great one.
But had he done anything about his casual friendship with the lovely Shannon Bell?
Nope.
Absolutely not.
Because Jeremiah had spent a year getting over his fiancée and then he wasn’t sure how to ask Shannon out after twelve months of quick smiles and nods in the coffee line.
And now she was in his car, those black waves cascading over her shoulders and the scent of her fruity perfume seeping into the leather seats.
“So,” he said, wondering how he could learn more about her in the short time they’d be in the car together. “How long have you lived on Five Island Street?”
“Oh, about three years now,” she said, glancing at him. “You?”
“I’ve been there for a decade,” he said. “It’s a nice area.” He wanted to drive into the nearest lamppost so he wouldn’t have to continue this lame conversation.
“It is,” she said. “Are you from the island?”
“Yep,” he said, popping the P. “Sure am. I have one sister, and my parents live in the older area of the island at the end of Main Street.” He glanced at her. “They’re getting up there in age.”
“They are?” She looked fully at him now. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-nine,” he said. “My parents were both forty when they had me.”
If she was surprised by that, she didn’t show it. “Younger sister, huh?”
“Yeah, she’s a synchronized swimmer. You ever been to any of the shows on the island?”
Shannon shook her head, and he wondered if she did more than work and get coffee in the mornings.
“What about you?” he asked. “Siblings? Oldest? Youngest?”
“I’m the oldest. Two sisters. My parents live out on the highway toward the cattle ranch. Have for decades.” She nodded and nodded, and Jeremiah could sense her discomfort. So he definitely wasn’t going to be asking her to be his date to the recognition gala. But he needed a date….
He pulled into the parking lot the wedding planning place shared with his office, his time with Shannon coming to an end. “So,” he said. “This might be totally crazy, but the City Council is having this…thing that I have to go to, and I need a date. Are you busy next weekend?”
Shannon blinked, her deep, brown eyes soaking him up. Jeremiah let her too, and he wished his crush on this woman wasn’t quite so large. “Next weekend?” she asked. “Friday or Saturday?”
“It’s on Saturday night,” he said.
“And it’s a…thing?” Her eyes smiled at him, and he wondered if this was flirting. He wasn’t sure, because he hadn’t been out with anyone since Elaine, and she’d taken most of his heart with her when she’d left Getaway Bay.
“It’s a…dinner and a program,” he said. “The city is recognizing me for my work with kids.” He hated saying it out loud, but she’d asked.
“You’re getting the Getaway Bay Professional Dignitary Award?” Her eyes widened, and she leaned away from him and folded her arms. Jeremiah had taken a body language class a couple of years ago, and he knew the crossed arms weren’t good.
Or maybe they were. She looked playful and poised at the same time, and his blood ran a little hotter in his veins.
“Yes,” he said simply. “Dinner at six. Program after that. You’d need a nice dress. I’m wearing a tuxedo.”
“Is that so?” She grinned at him now, and Jeremiah kicked himself for not asking this woman out a year ago. “I have to check my schedule,” she said. “Sometimes my weekends are insane with weddings.”
“Ah, yes. Lots of weddings on the weekends.”
“Right.” She picked up her purse and took her coffee from the cup holder between them. He hurried to get out of the car with her, collecting the coffee for his employees from the backseat so he could walk with her. After all, she hadn’t said yes yet.
Don’t ask again, he told himself. She said she’d check her schedule.
“Anyway, let me know,” he said when she got close to the glass doors leading into Your Tidal Forever.
“I will.” She reached for the door handle. “Oh, wait.”
Jeremiah almost tripped over his feet he stopped so fast. “Yeah?”
“Maybe I should get your number, so I can text you if my Saturday is open.” She looked at him with those glittering eyes, and Jeremiah thought he would’ve given her anything she asked for.
“Sure,” he said, looking at the seven cups of coffee he held.
“Go ahead and say it,” she said. “I’ll text you, and then you’ll have my number.”
He recited it, and a moment later the device in his pocket buzzed. “I got it.”
“Great.” She watched him for another moment and then another, and then she cleared her throat and ducked into the building where she worked. It took every ounce of self-control Jeremiah had to keep walking to his own building, where he hit the handicapped button to get the doors open and himself inside with all that coffee.
