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  Luke’s Second Chance Family

  Beach House Memories, Book 3

  Francesca Lane

  Luke’s Second Chance Family

  Beach House Memories, Book 3

  Copyright © 2020 Francesca Lane

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author.

  Cover Design by Tugboat Design

  FRANCESCA LANE writes sweet beach romances ... for any time of year. For a free eBook, visit: FrancescaLane.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Sneak Peek of Lacy’s Billionaire Boss

  Also by Francesca Lane

  One

  Luke froze, aware that the woman he had been avoiding for days—for years, really—was about to cross his path. He continued to trudge along the sidewalk toward his surf shop, drinking the coffee he’d just picked up from the new bakery in town, his baseball cap pulled snugly down on his head. When he reached her, he would look into her eyes, say hello, and get the whole thing over with as fast as possible.

  Maggie hadn’t changed much at all—still beautiful, curvy, and walked like she owned—or could buy—the entire block. He noted, with startling recall, that she still held her purse the way she had as a teen: arm bent at the elbow in a forty-five degree angle, the handbag dangling from her forearm, a slight shimmy in her gait. Heat crept into his face. How had something like that stuck in his head all this time?

  He braced for impact, but the woman’s gaze was somewhere else. “Eva?” she was saying, her eyes focused on a young girl in front of her with long, dark hair. “Wait for me, hon.”

  The girl, slightly taller than his own daughter, skipped on ahead. Luke had heard Maggie had a daughter, and for a moment, his brain wandered to what might have been. And yet, he had no regret. Well, technically, he regretted his behavior, but that was something he could never take back. In the end, he did not regret how it all turned out. He couldn’t.

  The little girl went inside the bakery that he had just left, the one that sat like a cream puff in the middle of the block. The new place in Colibri Beach had filled a need in this tired old town, providing a spot to gather that wasn’t strewn with old wallpaper and folding chairs. He still wasn’t sure about all that pink on the walls, though …

  As the woman passed him by, he glanced up, the coffee cup to his lips, his gaze over the top of it. She didn’t notice him, though, which caused him to feel something unexpected. What he expected he would feel was relief, the kind of relief a person encountered when they had been holding their breath under water for too long and finally surfaced and let it out.

  Instead, the sense that rose in his gut reminded him of something wholly different, and as he considered it, he realized what it was. When Maggie Morelli failed to notice him standing feet away from her, Luke felt deep and utter … disappointment.

  He twisted his lips. Served him right. Luke may have been avoiding Maggie for the past decade or so, but when she passed him by with zero recognition on her face, he realized he had received a comeuppance of sorts, the long-time-coming kind. He shook his head slowly. At least she hadn’t sneered at him, though he couldn’t deny that he probably deserved that too.

  Luke watched the doorway of that bakery for a moment after the girl, followed by Maggie, slipped inside, blissfully unaware of his scrutiny. He sighed, threw back the rest of his coffee, then crushed his cup and tossed it into the garbage can on the sidewalk. Quickly, he hopped off the curb and crossed the street, unlocking the storefront he’d acquired nearly five years before.

  In a relatively short time, he had made great strides with his surfboard shop. Inside, his footfalls echoed through the space. He flipped a few switches until the place came to life, the smells of wax and sand and salt water burning his nostrils. His eyes scanned the walls of the shop. In the front, finished boards in varying sizes hung on racks, waiting for buyers to snap them up. But it was the back of the shop that called to him, ever since that summer that Maggie had challenged him to face his fear and dive into that wide and chilly ocean.

  What happened in the ensuing years was less easy to recall. The early morning rides, the contests, the girls—lots and lots of girls. And the fear he kept in check—until he no longer could. He shut his eyes, remembering.

  “You all right?”

  Luke spun around. When had Zack come in? He released a breath and waved the teen inside. “Sorry, dude. Was thinking.”

  Zack laughed. “My dad does that all the time.”

  He faltered. “Thinks?”

  The kid cracked up. “Stares into space like he can’t find his glasses or something.”

  Luke’s smile fell. “Ah.” He cleared his throat, not sure how his thirty-year-old self felt to be compared to someone’s much-older dad. “So. What can I help you with today?”

  Zack handed him a flyer. “I gotta job handing out these flyers for the Ringer Surf Classic. I get extra if I can get stores to tape a flyer to the window. You in?”

  Luke ran his eyes over the announcement about the first-time, amateur competition in their small beach town. He grimaced. Not too many decent hotels around here, so he guessed the vacation rentals would be going for a premium. This kind of thing was great for business, but not without its problems. His eyes caught on the list of prizes.

  He looked up. “Two-thousand-dollar prize in each category? And all the rest of the prize money to charity? Really?”

  Zack whistled. “Yup. Even old timers like you can win a bunch of cash.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “What are you … chicken?” Zack cackled like an old man, rather than a fifteen-year-old with a smart mouth.

  Luke focused a mock glare on the kid. “Want my help or not?”

  “Sorry.”

  Luke loved the sport—the smells, the tricks, those serendipitous rides that took a person by surprise. Only he loved them from the sidelines now. Though he owned this shop and had become one of the best shapers in the area, Luke had not surfed in years. Nor did he intend to start.

  “Hey, you could enter and win money for your shop.” He looked around. “This place needs some stuff.”

  “Yeah? Like what kind of stuff?”

  “Candy machines, free ice cream, a skate ramp out back …”

  Luke gave Zack another bogus frown. “Not happening.”

  He’d bought the building that housed his shop long before he knew much about handling finances. Shoot, he’d practically been a kid when he bought it. One thing was for sure: Luke hadn’t planned on the high number of repairs he would have to make, the cost of which had shocked him with each invoice. Still, he’d managed quite well.

  Luke took a second glance at the flyer in his hands. That prize money would sure come in handy for somebody, though. He perused the list of charities on the flyer. In addition to the usual ocean-centered ones, a charity that helped foster kids had made the cut.

  “Then again,” he said, “this is pretty rad.”

  “Epic. So you’ll put it on your window?”

  Luke screwed up his mouth. “Yeah. Get outta here.”

  Zack called out “Awesome!” and tore out
of the shop, hopped into the street, and zig-zagged his way toward the bakery. Luke shook his head, slight laughter coming from him. The kid was probably off to find himself more sugar since he so obviously lacked energy today.

  Luke grabbed a roll of clear tape from a drawer, found an empty spot on the shop’s window, and put the competition flyer at teen eye-level. No doubt the surf kids around here would be gawking at that flyer in no time, stirring up all kinds of excitement in Colibri. He stood back and idly rubbed the scar above his lip, grateful for the much-needed distraction.

  As he did, Luke caught sight of the bakery across the street … the one currently holding a piece of his past.

  A muffin top never sounded so good.

  Maggie rubbed dried paint from her chin with the back of her thumb, silently wondering how safe it was to be out in public on such a sunny day. Since moving back to Colibri Beach temporarily, she’d kept herself—and her daughter, Eva—relatively busy and tucked away from the towns’ flapping mouths and gaping eyes.

  All she wanted to do was make it through the month unscathed by rumor. Oh, and to find a new apartment and work to go home to in Arizona when this was all over.

  Thing was, she was struggling. Maggie liked order. Compartmentalizing her life. Not this daily life of being scattered on the sea breeze. Already, she felt as if she might crack.

  Eva skipped ahead and disappeared into Brooke’s Beachside Bakery—the place that Maggie had heard about unceasingly from her sister, Grace, and brother, Jake, both who had already spent their required month at the family beach house. She’d been budgeting since she arrived back in Colibri, and though the thought of spending money at the friendly neighborhood bakery wasn’t top on her list, her daughter brightened about the prospect. So she soldiered on.

  Maggie entered the shop, the aroma of dough and sugar and other pleasing spices enveloping her senses. She licked her lips, enticed by all the chocolatey, sugary goodness staring back at her. If she were at home, far from here, she’d watch herself. First, for money reasons, but mostly, because she wanted to keep her love handles to a minimum.

  Eva pointed at the chalkboard sign with words written in a flourish:

  “If you love someone, let them go. If they come back with coffee, it was meant to be.” - Anon

  Eva twisted a look up at her. “What does that mean, momma?”

  A woman behind the counter wearing a name tag that read Lea cut in. “It’s our ode to coffee, so to speak. And to love,” she said with a wink.

  Eva scrunched her nose. “I don’t like coffee. Do you have hot chocolate?”

  Lea laughed. “Sure do.” She looked at Maggie. “And for you?”

  “I’ll have the coffee,” Maggie said. She didn’t add anything about love because, frankly, her luck in that area was pitiful. Thankfully, though she’d loved and lost more than once, she had gained her beautiful and spunky daughter in the midst of it all. An amazing tradeoff that made her grateful despite the desperate positions she often seemed to find herself in.

  She glanced again at the case overflowing with goodies. “And I think I’ll also have a chocolate chip muffin top, too.”

  Eva rose up on her tiptoes. “Can I have an eclair? Please?”

  Maggie ran a hand down her daughter’s soft brunette locks. Eva had been torn from her home and friends practically overnight, but she had been a trouper. Maggie marveled at the way her ten-year-old had matured during the drama. “Sure. You worked hard, so yes. Pick the one you want.”

  Eva pointed at the fattest chocolate eclair in the case. “I’ll take that one.” She then turned her doe eyes up toward her momma. “You worked hard, too. You should get two muffin tops.”

  Maggie laughed. “Maybe if I had your metabolism, I would.”

  Eva frowned. “Metabo … what?”

  “Never mind. Why don’t you go pick a table while I pay for our snack.”

  Lea eyed the girl as she bounded across the shop. “Your daughter is so sweet. You seem familiar to me. Have we met?”

  “Probably when we were kids. I’m Maggie Morelli and—”

  “Oh! One of the Morelli kids. So good to see you again. I’m Lea—I’m close to Jake’s age, so you probably don’t remember me.”

  Lea had called her “kid”—how funny was that? Unfortunately, the woman with the animated expression was right—Maggie didn’t remember her at all. She didn’t want to be rude. Truth was, she had largely forgotten a lot about all those summers spent at Colibri Beach. Or maybe she had just put those days out of her mind. Far, far out of her mind.

  “Forgive me,” Maggie said. “But there’s been a lot of life lived since I spent my summers in Colibri.” She didn’t care to mention that this beach town was home to what some might refer to as her biggest mistake ever. “I take it you grew up here?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Born and raised. My friend Brooke owns this place. I just help her out part-time.”

  Maggie glanced around the bakery, taking in the burst of pink hues on the walls. The aromas mixed with light, bright colors made her want to prolong her stay, but duty called. She slid a gaze back to Lea. “I can see why you’d want to work here. My parents would have loved this place.”

  Lea’s smile dimmed. “I was so sorry to hear about their accident. My condolences.”

  “Thank you very much.” Her parents’ deaths in a car accident had shocked Maggie and her siblings. When they were still reeling from the news, which included revelations about their mother’s deteriorating mental condition, another shock had been handed to them: their parents had left everything to charity.

  Everything except the family beach house.

  Initially she and her siblings thought they would sell the whole place and split the revenue—something Maggie welcomed given her perilous financial state. But their parents had other plans for them. And if they didn’t follow through with their parents’ wishes? The house would also be given to charity.

  No exceptions.

  Lea tilted her head. “How is the house coming along?”

  Maggie raised her brows, momentarily silenced. Apparently, word had gotten around this small community. The idea that people were talking about them—about her—made something in her gut crimp.

  Lea continued, a tinge of red to her cheeks now. “I mean, I-I heard that you’re all fixing it up to sell. Isn’t that right?”

  “It is. We’ll sell eventually. I guess you heard about our parents’ crazy will.”

  Lea bit her bottom lip. “That each of you has to stay in the house for a month? And that you all have to do your part to fix it up?”

  Maggie exhaled, nodding. There really were few secrets in this town …

  “Yes,” Lea continued, her head bobbing. “I heard.”

  “I see. Well, we still have a way to go. Grace cleaned the place very well and gave us our marching orders. Jake started with the kitchen—it’s gorgeous, by the way. And my job is to paint as much as possible.” Maggie held up a paint-spattered hand. “I am working on the main floor bath, which Jake also updated.”

  Lea both cringed and laughed. “Then you deserve a double shot of coffee. Listen, why don’t you join your daughter at the table and I’ll bring everything over to you.”

  “Thanks. That would be perfect.” Maggie made her way to the table in the corner where Eva sat patiently waiting.

  “I think I’m going to like it around here,” Eva said, a smile on her impish face.

  Maggie laughed. “Oh really.”

  “We don’t have any beaches near our house in Arizona. Only donut shops. Yeah, I like it here.”

  “I’m glad.” Maggie took a surreptitious look around. “I like it too.”

  Lea showed up carrying a platter with multiple muffin tops, two eclairs, a tall mug of steaming coffee, and a mug of hot chocolate with too many marshmallows to count.

  Eva squealed when the eclairs were set in front of her while Maggie gasped.

  Lea smiled. “I doubled your order—consider it a we
lcome to town gift. Anything else I can get you?”

  Maggie looked up. “Point me toward a gym? I think I’m going to need one.”

  Lea cracked up. “Not necessary—if only I looked as good as you. Your hair is gorgeous, too.”

  “My mom’s a hairdresser,” Eva said, chocolate smeared across her cheek.

  Lea’s eyes widened. “Really?” She touched her ponytail in a self-conscious way. “Maybe you could help me with this mop sometime. It’s really pretty unmanageable.”

  “I’d be happy to, though I would not call your pretty hair a mop.”

  Lea slid into a chair next to her and leaned onto the table. “Really? Because I never know what to do with it, you know? So I always end up just pulling it into this dumb ponytail.”

  Eva giggled. “Dumb ponytail …”

  Unable to help herself, Maggie inspected Lea’s hair. She’d been fiddling with hair since she was a kid, so her profession had been a natural choice. That and the flexibility it offered to a single mother.

  The bell on the bakery’s front door rang, signaling a customer had entered. Lea sighed and dragged herself out of the chair. “I’ve got to get that, but maybe I could stop by the house sometime and talk to you?”

  Maggie nodded. “Of course. Any time.”

  After Lea had left, Maggie wrapped her hands around her mug of coffee, willing herself to keep her mind away from worries. She didn’t dare think about all the clients she would have to try and reconnect with when she moved back home. Her salon had closed abruptly more than a month ago and she had been unable to secure a new space ever since.

  She nibbled on one of the muffin tops, her spinning mind unable to slow down and enjoy the respite. When she had first learned about the strange requirements in their parents’ will, Maggie had been so frustrated. How in the world would she find the time to take a month off of work and travel to California to babysit the house that they had vacationed in every summer of her young life? Sure it sounded like a fun idea, but ideas and reality were two different things.