Alexia “Lexi” Hanson lay peacefully in a dreamless sleep just before dawn. Her eyes popped open, her breath suspended as she listened. The rain had stopped. It had rained for days and it was finally over. Jumping out of bed she was excited to look for herself, and crossed to the French doors before stepping out onto the balcony. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the ocean air and did a little happy dance to the rail before looking over toward her neighbor's garden with a smile. It was still dark outside but she could just make out the blooms from the full moon peeking between the clouds. Perfect. Moving back inside she threw on a pair of old jeans and a long-sleeved pink t-shirt.
She didn't know anything about her next door neighbor—he was never there—but she’d become friends with Sam and Martha, the live-in caretakers who took care of his house. They were a wonderful middle-aged couple who didn’t have children of their own but treated her like she was a daughter, making sure that Lexi had sweet treats and help with any repairs she needed done. They never called the owner by name but she knew they’d known him since he was a boy.
Both hers and her neighbor's house were the only two along this mile stretch of cove near Ipswich, Massachusetts. Although his house and land took up most of it, she was quite content with her little portion of sand and three-bedroom beach cottage. It was more than she needed, but she loved it. There was an open concept kitchen, living room and dining room that faced the ocean at the back of the cottage, and two bedrooms downstairs; one she used as her office, the other as a guest room. The upstairs was her retreat, the master bedroom facing the ocean while the closet and master bath took up the rest of the floor.
This cottage meant so much to her. Growing up, she’d spent her summers here with her grandmother, Patsy, at this very beach cottage. Her grandmother had been full of life and, most of the time, had acted like a kid herself. Together, they’d had a lot of fun with the grandchildren of her grandmother’s friends. Her heart still ached and missed her since her passing four years prior.
She skipped down to her kitchen and pushed the button to start her morning coffee. As it brewed, she took out some raspberry muffins Martha had made for her and let her golden retriever, Pepper, out to do her morning business. Lexi had rescued Pepper from a shelter for abused dogs, had felt a kinship with her. They understood and comforted each other. When she had first adopted Pepper, they’d both been suffering from nightmares every night, but that had dissipated through the years.
After her coffee and muffin, Lexi grabbed her camera and made sure everything she might need was in her bag. The thought of what shots she might be able to get of the beach today after the rain excited her. It always amazed her what the violence of the waves washed up on the beach.
She checked the time. Only thirty minutes to get set up before the sun rose above the horizon and ruined her shot. Chugging the rest of her coffee, Lexi put her shoes on and jogged out the door, whistling for Pepper.
Laughing, Lexi handed Pepper a doggie biscuit. "Be a good girl and stay out of our neighbor's garden while I'm in there." She quickly walked into the garden, keeping an eye on the horizon where the sun would rise.
After crawling around and discounting numerous flowers, she finally found the perfect bloom—a peach-colored rose with a dew drop ready to fall off of one petal. She leaned into the beautiful flower and inhaled, careful not to disrupt the drop, then got into position and took a couple of test shots. The dim light was just enough to see what needed to be adjusted. She stayed still, waiting for the perfect moment when the sun would peek over the horizon and be partially hidden behind the bloom. Although the rose would be clear, one could still see all of the debris that had washed up on the beach, the ocean waves in the background. She took dozens, knowing one would be the perfect picture.
*
Noah sat in a chair with his feet up on the terrace rail, drinking coffee instead of sleeping. After the schedule he’d kept over the years he should be asleep, dead to the world, for at least the next week. But for some reason the ocean was pulling at him. The fresh air and coffee were doing more for him than a massage from Sven, the best deep tissue masseuse in Los Angeles, and a full night's sleep would ever do.
Just over six feet tall, he had broad shoulders and an eight-pack the women went crazy over but he had to work hard to keep his body in shape now, especially after all of the years he’d spent abusing it. He had black hair and green eyes with obnoxiously long eyelashes that were considered lethal weapons (all the gossip rags said so), a killer smile, and dimples that could melt the heart of the most hardened woman. His largest tattoo was tribal that went from his upper right arm and across his chest, continued down his belly and disappeared under his waistband. Speculation as to what was at the end of the tattoo had women always trying to find out. There was a time in his life when he would have let them. But those days were long gone.
He ran his hands over his face, noticing the stubble just starting to grow. Noah had decided to grow a beard on his long, overdue vacation but now that he finally had some time to think, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He’d never had much time to do whatever he wanted. For so long, he’d lived on a schedule set by someone else. He knew it was time to make a change, but had no idea what it should be.