When Summer Returns

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

The island had a pulse. Luke Mallory felt it beneath his feet as he made his way up the sandy path, the beam of his flashlight carving through darkness thick as molasses. At dawn, in that suspended moment before the sun claimed the sky, Seeker’s Island belonged to ghosts and fools.

Today, he was firmly in the latter category.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, adjusting his grip on the flashlight. Palm fronds swayed overhead, casting serpentine shadows across the trail. Somewhere in the underbrush, night creatures scurried away from his intrusion, their rustling a counterpoint to the steady rhythm of the nearby ocean.

Perspiration slicked his skin despite the early hour, dampening his T-shirt and curling the overlong strands of hair at his temples and neck. A haircut hovered near the bottom of his priority list, somewhere above taking a vacation but well below maintaining his sanity—which explained his current expedition.

Only a desperate man believed in magic springs and island legends.

The Florida heat pressed against him like a living thing as he climbed the hill that led to Seeker’s Spring. The humid air grew thicker with each step, as if the path to salvation required passing through purgatory first. The distant burble of the waterfall grew louder, competing with the crash of waves from the opposite direction.

He was seventh-generation island stock. The Mallorys were as much a part of Seeker’s Island as the limestone beneath its sandy shores. He loved everything about this place—from the brutal summers to the spectacular thunderstorms to the cemetery where his ancestors’ graves tilted at odd angles after every significant rainfall. This was home, with all its peculiarities and imperfections.

When he reached the summit, Luke dropped the flashlight onto a smooth rock so its beam illuminated the scene. The hot spring stretched before him, its surface midnight black and mirror still except where the waterfall disturbed it, sending ripples across its face. Steam rose in ghostly tendrils where cool air met heated water.

“Complete insanity,” he said to the darkness, rolling his shoulders to release the tension that had settled there like an unwelcome guest.

His grandmother’s voice seemed to echo across the years: “The Lady of the Spring appears to those who need her most, Lucas. Not everyone sees her, but those who do are standing at life’s crossroads whether they know it or not.”

As a child, he’d been enthralled by Martha Mallory’s stories of the silver-haired woman with sea-glass eyes who had guided islanders through difficult choices for generations. His grandmother claimed the Lady had appeared to her the night before she decided to marry his grandfather instead of moving to the mainland with another suitor. “She told me my heart already knew where I belonged,” Martha had said. “The head just takes longer to accept what the heart understands immediately.”

Luke had dismissed those tales as the romantic fancies of an older generation, just as he now questioned his own presence at the spring. And yet here he was, seeking answers from ancient waters just as islanders had done for centuries.

“At least I have privacy for my moment of madness,” he said.

The springs wouldn’t officially open for hours, though that hardly mattered. His best friend happened to be Sheriff Reece Wells, who might find amusement in Luke’s desperation but wouldn’t actually arrest him for trespassing.

Before rational thought could override impulse, Luke pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it onto a nearby boulder. His cargo shorts and boxer briefs followed. He hadn’t gone swimming at the springs since he was eighteen and equally desperate. Both occasions involved the same woman—Jessie James—though his wish hadn’t been granted the first time around.

Perhaps he simply hadn’t known how to ask for what he truly needed. Fate had specific requirements that way.

Jessie James had occupied his thoughts for most of his thirty-three years. First as his dearest childhood friend, then as the girl who taught him what love felt like, and finally as the woman whose absence had left a void nothing else could fill.

They’d known each other since elementary school, though in retrospect, he realized Jessie had always kept parts of herself hidden. Her emerald eyes held shadows he hadn’t understood back then—shadows that made perfect sense now, considering the harsh upbringing she’d endured with old Jesse James. The senior James had been cruel in ways Luke hadn’t comprehended until too late, keeping Jessie confined to their run-down house far more often than letting her enjoy the freedom of island living.

They’d loved each other as friends should, even when she couldn’t bring herself to share her deepest secrets. Then adolescence transformed them both, and their innocent childhood connection evolved into something more profound. At sixteen, they’d fumbled their way toward intimacy, discovering each other with the kind of reverence only first love inspires—without reservation or the cynicism experience eventually teaches.

Or so he’d believed at the time. Looking back now, Luke wondered if he’d simply been a refuge from whatever darkness plagued her at home. He’d never fully earned her trust, which meant perhaps he’d never truly had her heart either. Because during their senior year, Jessie vanished without warning. Luke had arrived at the ferry to find her missing, and when he’d confronted her father that afternoon, old Jesse had informed him with chilling indifference that his daughter had packed her things and disappeared with their boat during the night.

She never returned. Not once. Though Luke had waited, had searched for her while her own father made no effort to find his only child. Eventually, Luke had tried to move forward while somehow keeping that Jessie-shaped wound open in his heart, a reminder that the only person you could truly rely on was yourself.

Luke eased himself over the moss-slick boulders and sat at the edge of the spring, dipping his feet into the water. He hissed as the heat touched his skin, sweat immediately beading across his forehead and trailing down his neck. He knew it would be cooler by the waterfall, where the flow originated from a different spring.

The dual nature of Seeker’s Spring made it unusual—magical, according to local legend. Tourists traveled from around the world to experience it, overrunning the island with garish hats and rented golf carts, purchasing plastic bottles of spring water as if they could capture wishes to take home.

Whatever your heart desires…

A marketing scheme created by someone who valued commerce over the island’s natural serenity. Yet here he was, behaving like a tourist himself, driven by a desperation he could barely acknowledge.

Luke waded through the shallows until he reached the drop-off at the center of the pool, where the depth suddenly increased. No one knew exactly what lay at the bottom, though several island residents claimed to have explored its depths in search of the spring’s true power.

He swam to the waterfall, where cold spray splashed against his face. He carefully navigated around the jagged rocks at its base—rocks sharp enough to slice through skin without warning. The sky had begun to lighten to a hazy gray, but dark storm clouds rolling in from the distance promised to keep any early rising tourists away from witnessing his foolishness.

Luke had spent years listening to those who claimed Seeker’s Spring had granted their heart’s desire. He still considered it nonsense, but if even a sliver of possibility existed, he couldn’t ignore it. The stakes had risen too high.

He knew what he’d done wrong during his previous attempt years ago. Back then, he’d swum to the deepest part of the pool, his chest tight with panic and anger as tears he couldn’t control had tracked down his face. He’d begged for Jessie’s return until his voice gave out. He’d maintained hope for weeks until old Jesse delivered the crushing news that his daughter had sent a letter saying she was staying with relatives up north to finish school and wanted no contact with anyone from Seeker’s Island—especially Luke.

That moment had transformed him, igniting an anger that simmered just beneath his surface for years, causing island residents to give him a wide berth as he’d channeled his pain into drinking and brawling. But that was the past. He’d learned to control that particular fire, though it still smoldered within him.

And now Jessie was coming back. The thought alone rekindled that dormant anger. This was his island—his sanctuary—and she no longer belonged here.

According to local wisdom, wishes were only granted at the precise spot where cold and hot waters merged. No wonder his first attempt had failed—he’d been in entirely the wrong location.

Luke positioned himself carefully among the rocks and stood to his full height. The wind picked up suddenly, as if nature itself recognized his foolishness. He smiled wryly as it gusted harder, slapping waterfall spray across his face. Thunder rumbled in the distance. With his luck, the spring would answer his request by sending a hurricane to wipe out the entire island.

A flicker of concern rose when his flashlight sputtered several times before dying completely, leaving him in near-total darkness. Fortunately, he knew every inch of the island and could navigate it blindfolded if necessary, though preferably not during a raging storm.

“All right, Mallory. Time to put up or shut up.”

The conflicting temperatures from the spring and waterfall raised goose bumps across his skin. The water stung like needles as the wind drove it against his face.

“I’m not going to spell everything out,” he called over the approaching storm. “According to the legend, you already know what’s in my heart. So I’m simply asking for my heart’s desire, whatever that may be.”

Speaking the words aloud didn’t diminish his feeling of absurdity, but at least he’d completed the ritual. Now he could return to the bar— his bar, regardless of what the lawyer’s letter stated. He had inventory to check and orders to place. Old Jesse James remained a thorn in his side even from the grave.

The approaching storm would be bad for business, and if the waves grew too high, the ferry might not deliver the fresh catch scheduled for the dinner crowd.

Just as he prepared to leave the waterfall’s spray, lightning split the sky with a tremendous crack. The hairs on his arms stood at attention, and the sharp scent of ozone filled his nostrils.

“Not the answer I was looking for,” he muttered, diving into the water and swimming furiously toward the opposite edge where his clothes waited. The last thing he needed was to be struck by lightning and discovered unclothed, floating lifelessly in the hot springs.

Though rain hadn’t yet begun falling, the darkness of the sky suggested he had just enough time to reach the bar before the deluge. He pulled on his clothes without bothering to dry off, shook water from his hair, and grabbed the useless flashlight before sliding into his flip-flops. His golf cart waited a quarter mile down the path, and he jogged down the steep incline, swatting foliage from his face.

Another rumble of thunder sounded, considerably closer this time. He climbed into the golf cart and backed up carefully before turning around. The wind had intensified by the time he emerged from the tree cover onto the coastal road leading to Seeker’s Paradise, the bar and grill he’d poured twelve years of his life into building. He wouldn’t have acquired it at all if not for old Jesse.

Jesse had been a silent partner, providing the other 50 percent of the necessary capital with the promise that if anything happened to him, his shares would transfer to Luke. But when old Jesse died, Luke discovered the man had never intended to keep that promise. He’d given the other half of Seeker’s Paradise to the daughter who had abandoned him fifteen years earlier.

The betrayal darkened Luke’s mood to match the sky, and he pressed harder on the accelerator, seeking the rush of speed he’d craved constantly after she’d left.

Waves crashed violently against the shoreline as Luke mentally reviewed his preparations for the day ahead. The rain would be inconvenient but manageable. The bar would still fill by dinnertime, though he’d need to worry about waitresses slipping on wet floors and the possibility of power outages.

People enjoyed their drinks and conversation regardless of weather. He personally didn’t understand the appeal of the latter, though he absolutely comprehended the allure of the former. Not a day passed without temptation to pour himself a glass and join the regulars at the counter. The need accompanied every drink he served, but he relished the pain of his hard-won self-control. He’d found other outlets to distract himself from temptation.

The sky opened just as he pulled the golf cart beneath the covered patio near the kitchen, unleashing a torrent of raindrops followed by another flash of lightning. Despite his sprint to the door, he was thoroughly soaked by the time he unlocked the kitchen entrance and pushed inside.

He kicked off his flip-flops and pulled off his sodden shirt as he slammed the door behind him, muttering under his breath. His first priority was securing the screens on the windward side of the bar to prevent the interior from flooding, and there was no sense changing into dry clothes until that task was complete.

He took a moment to unlock the kitchen door that opened into the bar itself. Seeker’s Paradise resembled a large, square tiki hut—substantial bamboo posts anchored each corner, and the roof featured thatch that mimicked traditional straw construction. The bar formed a square directly in the center, enabling patrons to sit at the long expanse of polished wood on all sides. The liquor cabinets and kitchen were locked nightly, but the restaurant itself remained open since it had no walls.

Luke pushed through the kitchen door, grabbing the long hook he kept nearby to pull down the protective screens. The roof’s overhang usually kept rain at bay, but not when it blew horizontally as it did now.

He’d just slipped the hook through the eyelet at the ceiling’s edge when awareness prickled at the base of his spine. He wasn’t alone. Luke’s shoulders tensed, but he continued his task without interruption. The island boasted remarkably low crime rates, but trouble occasionally washed ashore. If someone intended to rob him, they faced profound disappointment. He deposited cash every night, making the liquor inventory the only items of significant value on the premises.

He tugged the screen downward, securing it with a rattle and clank as it hit the floor. Bending to fasten it in place, he waited for whoever lurked in the shadows to make their move. No rush of movement or approaching footsteps disturbed the stillness.

His fingers tightened around the hook as he straightened, turning slowly to face the intruder.

The sight of her stopped his heart.

City girl.

She’d changed in the fifteen years since he’d last seen her. The girl had become a woman, but her former softness had vanished. A short crop of black hair framed her face, making her emerald-green eyes appear impossibly large and her cheekbones more pronounced.

She’d always been slender and willowy, with legs that seemed to go on forever. The emerald sundress she wore matched the shade of the moss surrounding the springs he’d just visited, ending just above her knees. Her narrow feet were strapped into white sandals that crisscrossed up to her ankles with elegant precision.

“Hello, Luke.” Her voice retained the sultry undertones of the South, the sound sending a current of recognition through him. That voice had haunted his dreams for fifteen years.

“Jessie,” he managed past the sudden tightness in his throat. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

One corner of her mouth lifted in a sardonic smile. “More likely you just hoped I wouldn’t show up.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Though perhaps it’s better this way. You can sign the papers selling your half of the bar to me, and then return to wherever you came from.”

The challenging glint in her eyes made his chest tighten, his deep blue gaze meeting her green one with equal intensity. He moved behind the bar as if preparing for a normal day’s business.

“My father’s dead,” she said simply.

“I remember. I attended his funeral. Where were you?” Luke found no satisfaction in how the color drained from her cheeks or the haunted expression that crossed her face—a look he remembered from their childhood.

“I’m here now.” Her voice carried the chill of January waters. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t waste your lies on me,” he said, wondering if today might finally be the day he poured that drink he’d only contemplated until now. “You couldn’t wait to get off this island fast enough. Why would you want to tie yourself to it now?”

“I left you a note explaining everything,” she said, her voice tightening. “I didn’t just vanish.”

“A note?” His expression darkened. “Is that what you tell yourself to feel better?”

“My reasons for returning aren’t your concern. Just know that I’m here now, and I’m claiming what rightfully belongs to me.”

Ridiculous legends and foolish wishes. His jaw clenched until it ached. He pulled a white apron from beneath the bar and tossed it at her feet, shame flickering through him as she reached for it and missed. But he couldn’t back down now. She’d taken everything he’d ever offered. He refused to surrender his livelihood as well.

“Welcome home, partner,” he said, making no effort to disguise the tension in his voice. “I suppose we’ll discover just how determined you are to stay when you’re serving drinks and cleaning up messes twelve hours a day.”

The approaching storm chose that moment to announce itself with a tremendous crack of thunder that shook the foundations of Seeker’s Paradise. Neither of them flinched, too focused on weathering the tempest brewing between them.