Sweet Troublemaker: Indigo Bay Second Chance Romances, #1

By Jean Oram

Newly divorced Polly Morgan needs a vacation, and she's hoping some extra time in the oceanside town of Indigo Bay before her friend's wedding will do the trick.

But she doesn't expect to have to save the entire event alongside the man she measures all kisses against—her first love, Nick Wylder.

 

Nick hasn't seen Polly in almost two decades, but that doesn't mean he's stopped thinking about her. He's pretty sure she feels the power of their rekindled love too, and he's ready to make a move. To his Texas ranch, to her home in Canada—anywhere as long as she's there.

 

But what will he do when his fast moves send Polly running? Can these two exes overcome their past and claim their second chance at love?

 

Find out in the first book in the Indigo Bay Second Chance Romance series. All books can be read as standalones. Start reading today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Oram Productions
• Release date: May 9, 2019
• ISBN: 9781989359044

Jean Oram

Jean Oram grew up in an old schoolhouse in a Canadian town, population 100 (cats and dogs not included). She is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling romance author of feel-good, tingle-inducing, heartwarming romances. Jean lives in Canada with her husband, two kids, cat, dog. She can often be found outdoors or reading a book. (And of course at her laptop writing your next irresistible read!) Follow Jean on social media or subscribe to her newsletter: www.JeanOram.com/FREEBOOK.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

"M aybe I should stay home," Polly Morgan said, a swell of doubt causing her to turn around on the sidewalk. She found herself face-to-face with her petite friend Daphne Summer, who spun her in a half circle, redirecting her back toward the automatic doors of Toronto’s international airport.

Nope, Daphne said. You’re going to spend time on the beach and find yourself a new man. One who is fun as well as worthy.

Polly opened her mouth to protest that she still wasn’t ready for a man, but Daphne continued firmly, You’ve bought your ticket. You’re going.

It’s June. It’s going to be hot.

It’s hot everywhere so you may as well be oceanside, sipping umbrella drinks.

I don’t like umbrella drinks. She felt like a petulant five-year-old, but couldn’t seem to help it. Resistance had set in.

Daphne continued to propel her, and Polly soon found herself rolling her heavy suitcase through the roped-off maze that led to the airline’s check-in counter.

Maybe I could stay on Nymph Island instead? The breezes off Lake Rosseau and the towering trees kept her friend’s magical old cottage cool even on the hottest of Canadian summer days.

Polly Morgan used to live a rich and full life, Daphne said with authority. She’s still inside you and she needs to shed the old Polly Pollard who spent a decade living in the shadow of her husband, then the past three years trying to extract herself from him. You’re free, and it’s time to have an adventure.

Adventure? Polly asked wistfully. She could barely even imagine what that might entail. Since she’d separated from Chuck, her social calendar had emptied as she dropped out of their old social circle and ceased her volunteer work. She still hadn’t quite figured out what to do with herself other than the odd part-time job.

Daphne whispered loudly, her lips staying eerily still, Adventure! She perked up and cupped a hand around her ear. Did you hear that?

Polly narrowed her eyes. Hear what? You pretending to be a ventriloquist?

Adventure! She began speaking normally again. It’s calling you! She cupped her hand once more. "Polly…come on an adventure..."

Polly sighed and rolled her eyes so she wouldn’t laugh, while moving forward in the lineup.

Adventure took courage and energy—both of which she was still trying to summon back into her life. She had expected energy to bounce back, along with its good friends joy and ambition, once Chuck had finally—finally!—signed their divorce papers. But somewhere in the years of constant battles, setbacks and delays, where he tried to cover up how much of their savings he’d spent on failed real estate deals, she’d lost the piece of herself that made her feel human. The piece that made her want to laugh and smile, to stay out late and develop a fabulous social life.

She had accepted this wedding invitation in South Carolina thinking the trip would push her toward living again, but now she worried it was just going to be awkward. She hadn’t seen most of these people—outside of recently bumping into the groom, who’d insisted she come catch up with his family, thus leading to the invitation—since she was a teenager.

She almost laughed at the memory of the last summer she’d spent in the quiet oceanside town of Indigo Bay. Most of what she recalled was kissing the groom’s nephew, Nick Wylder, under the crooked palm tree behind The Sugar Shack. Would Nick, her first kiss, be at the wedding? And would he remember her?

Why was she even thinking about Nick, and permitting her heart to do that silly little lift, as if she still had a crush on him, anyway? So many years had passed. Their reunion most definitely wouldn’t be like that last summer all over again.

She blew out another sigh to settle herself, and fluffed her sweep of bangs.

Ridiculous. That’s what this trip was. She was putting way too much hope into its ability to change her life.

I can see you thinking, Daphne said, hands on her hips. She was giving Polly her patented mother-is-not-impressed look that she gave her three energetic children.

I’m allowed to think, Polly said, hoisting her carry-on bag’s strap higher on her shoulder. She handed her passport to the waiting ticket agent, then dropped her suitcase on the scale. It squeaked in under the weight limit.

The agent slapped a tag on Polly’s pink suitcase and slid her passport and boarding pass across the tiny counter.

So? Are you looking for tall, dark and handsome? Or maybe a blond surfer dude? Daphne asked, as Polly moved aside so the next customer could approach the counter.

A man is the last thing I need right now. She rolled her eyes good-naturedly as a man raised his eyebrows in humor at overhearing her words.

A fling then? Daphne pressed.

Nope.

Her friend twirled, sending her airy white sundress out in a puff, her delighted laughter echoing through the concourse. "You are so totally going to find a man, Polly Morgan. I can feel it. She wiggled her fingers above her head, catching curious glances from passersby. It’s in the air. She turned her bright eyes to Polly, her smile self-satisfied. It’s destiny."

Polly ignored the shivers that zipped down her bare arms. There’s no such thing. But man, she’d love it if there was. She could simply hand her life over to the powers that be, and let them send her off in the right direction.

She hauled her suitcase onto the conveyor for international baggage, watching it get swooped into the airport’s basement. And anyway, she added, "I need to find myself before I go find a man."

You know who you are. You just need the right man to bring her out to play again. Her friend tapped a finger against Polly’s chest and declared, The old Polly is buried under all the dreck from the past few years. The right man will help her shake it off and live again.

Men are distractions.

"Haven’t you been listening? You need a distraction. You need some thoughtless fun away from home."

Polly found herself giving a wistful sigh. Time away did sound rather heavenly. And while the gossip had died down over how she’d left behind her society lady persona, some days she still felt as though she couldn’t even dash out to buy eggs without putting on full makeup or she’d prove to all that she’d let herself go. Although her wardrobe had indeed moved up a few sizes, proving that she had loosened the reins. Honestly, though? Most days she didn’t care.

Still, sitting around lost and alone like the ex-trophy wife she was, waiting for her monthly alimony payment and wishing the local banks would open a few suitable job positions, had long ago lost its appeal.

She used to be independent. She used to be fun.

She wanted that again. And that was exactly why she’d booked this trip in the first place, wasn’t it?

Polly straightened her spine and turned to Daphne, giving her a hug. I’ll be home Sunday night.

The resolve to get her life back on track was swelling like a perfect wave. And, as she had learned from Nick all those years ago, when the right wave came to you, you started paddling your board as hard as you were able, and even if your breath caught in your throat, you stood and you rode that wave for as far and long as you could.

You’ll come home with a man, Daphne said with authority.

Polly shook her head, hiding a smile at her friend’s persistent optimism. Alone, Daphne.

The woman let out a tinkling laugh as she said warmly, Fate is going to have some fun with you, Polly Morgan. Just you wait and see.

Nick Wylder dropped his large black duffel bag into the back of his faded blue pickup truck. His uncle Roy, the owner of the ranch where he’d worked almost since high school, had insisted he take a week and a half paid vacation, even though the trip to the coast didn’t warrant that much time away from the bustling ranch.

Nick figured his uncle’s insistence was to prevent him from getting pummeled by one of the ranch hands for a stunt he’d pulled a few days ago. Apparently not everyone was wise enough to look inside their sleeping bag for snakes while checking on cattle and sleeping out in the Texas hills.

Or maybe it was for the prank where he’d jiggered Hank’s stirrups so they fell off midride.

Or for the extra-hot sauce in last week’s chili.

Or for flirting with Myles’s latest girlfriend.

Yeah, it could definitely be that one.

He hated to admit it, but he was getting bored. He enjoyed working for Roy and he loved being outdoors, but he just didn’t seem to care about the details as much as he used to. He was pretty sure that if Uncle Roy didn’t think of him as his surrogate son rather than just a ranch hand who caused problems with his pranks, he’d have been out the door months ago.

Nick sat in the driver’s seat and put the windows down, the Texas heat making his shirt stick to his chest. Roy came alongside the passenger window.

Don’t forget your dog, he said, opening the door.

Nick’s three-legged dog, Ralph, a shaggy mutt with almost as many colors as could come on a dog, jumped in beside him. The canine grinned, his muddy paws marring the gray upholstery.

Where did you find mud in this heat? Nick muttered, reaching for the towel he kept in the truck solely for Ralph’s three paws, which were more often than not a mess. I thought Ralph could stay here, he said to Roy, as he cleaned off the muddy marks.

You’re not coming back, his uncle replied simply.

I’ve been fired? He cringed at how he was unable to keep the surprise from his voice. He was in his late thirties; of course his uncle wouldn’t put up with his shenanigans forever.

I know when a man’s done.

I’m coming back, Nick said firmly. He knew he hadn’t been the most motivated hand on the ranch lately, but if he didn’t have this, what did he have? I just need a quick break.

His uncle folded his arms over the windowsill. You’re looking for something that’s not here, and to find it you’re going to have to look beyond yourself.

He considered cracking a joke about how his uncle sounded like a fortune cookie, but the words wouldn’t come.

Walk away while you still have your pride.

You want me out. The words were flat. A statement.

Roy pushed his tan hat farther back on his head. You know things are changing around here. It’s nothing personal.

A thump in the rear of the truck had Nick looking in the mirror to see Myles Wylder, the second youngest of Roy’s five sons, drop in a bag of dog food.

Nick suddenly saw Roy’s plan. He had offered Nick extra time off before the family gathered in Indigo Bay to celebrate the union of Roy and his girlfriend as a way to let Nick down gently, hoping he would hear the unsaid words: You’re done here. Go find something new.

But Nick had refused to listen, refused to change or demonstrate his appreciation, and now it was too late. Roy had to kick him out, because all he’d do was make things difficult for Roy’s five grown sons as they sorted out how to take over the ranch once Roy retired and moved into town.

There’d been a rumor that Brant, the middle son, had traveled the thousand miles to the mountain town of Blueberry Springs to find Cole, telling him it was time to come home. That had been before Christmas, and so far there’d been no sign of the second eldest son. Things were sure to be strained for the men as they figured out how to handle the ranch without the family patriarch there barking out orders each morning.

See you at the wedding? Roy’s eyes narrowed as he assessed him.

Yeah, Nick said gruffly, starting his truck. See you there.

He’d have the joy of sharing a beachside cottage with his cousins for several nights, curious whether they’d be aware they were ousting him.

No, he’d ousted himself, hadn’t he? He’d taken Roy’s patience for granted, assuming the man would never send him off to sleep on Jenna Mae’s couch—the place he’d found Nick eons ago. Nick wasn’t going there. He wasn’t sleeping on his mother’s couch again. He needed to figure out what was missing in his life and fix it.

Let me know where you want me to send the rest of your stuff, Roy said casually, stepping away from the truck.

The sting in Nick’s chest was one he hadn’t felt since his stepfather had handed him a duffel—the very one in the back of the truck—on his eighteenth birthday.

All Nick could do was give a quick nod and put his truck in gear.

Roy gently patted the door, his mouth in a tight line as though holding back regret. He spoke through the open window. You know you always have a—

Yup. I know. See you in Indigo Bay, he said quickly. If his uncle verbalized how he’d claimed him all those years ago when he hadn’t known where to go, Nick would never get rid of the sorry lump forming in his throat.

CHAPTER 2

Polly stood in the short line for Indigo Bay Resort’s cottage check-in, eager to get to the little blue cottage she’d rented along the shores of the Atlantic. It had been a long drive to the airport that morning, followed by a long flight from Canada down to South Carolina. She wanted to break open the bottle of wine she had bought in the duty-free store, dip her toes in the ocean and just breathe.

She only had to endure waiting for the man in front of her with the large duffel bag to finish asking if pets were allowed