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Alexa Rivers writes about genuine characters living messy, imperfect lives and earning hard-won happily ever afters. Most of her books are set in small towns, and she lives in one of these herself. She shares a house with a neurotic dog and a husband who thinks he’s hilarious.
When she’s not writing, she enjoys traveling, baking, eating too much chocolate, cuddling fluffy animals, drinking excessive amounts of tea, and absorbing herself in fictional worlds.
Fleeting Chance
LEA COLL
Fleeting Chance
When I’m caught on my paddle board during a storm, my childhood friend and crush, Easton, rescues me. Now we’re stuck in his house for the night. He’s grown into a scorching hot man who can fill out a suit. I can’t resist his scruff-lined jaw, bulging biceps, and the competitive way he plays cards in front of the fire.
Time hasn’t lessened my attraction to him. It’s only intensified. I’m tempted to give into the impulse to enjoy one night together. Unfortunately, my heart wants more. Should I reveal to him my life-long crush, or will I lose my chance forever?
CHAPTER1
Easton
Icame to my grandparents’ home on Chester River for solitude, and as I fished from the pier for hours, I could enjoy the quiet. There were no expectations. It was just me, the fishing rod, and hopefully, a few fish willing to bite. I barely registered the boats going by, the family on the canoe, or the woman on a paddle board.
As I pulled my baseball cap down so it wouldn’t get lifted by the gusts of wind, I noticed the sky was getting darker by the minute. I’d lost track of time.
Whitecaps filled the water, but there were no boats. Earlier, there was a woman on a paddle board near the shore, but she’d disappeared. Even traffic on the bridge to Chestertown was light. Hopefully, everyone was tucked inside to wait out the impending storm.
I quickly gathered my fishing equipment and carried it across the lawn to the large screened-in porch. Of everything I’d inherited from my grandparents, their property meant the most to me. I rented it to tourists during the summer but reserved a few weekends in the spring and fall for me to escape Annapolis. It was just a short drive over the Bay Bridge.
I could fish on the long dock and relax on one of the Adirondack chairs or the hammock. There was something mesmerizing about watching the current go by.
At the first rumble of thunder, I stepped inside. Suddenly, I was starving. I preferred grilling but not with the rain forecasted.
I gathered the fixings to make cheeseburgers and a salad. It didn’t take long since I wasn’t expecting anyone. Once the food was cooked, I moved to the long dining room table on the screened-in porch. I loved watching storms, the way the lightning danced over the water, the charge in the air, and the rumble of thunder. The crack of thunder and the flash of lightning raised the hair on the back of my neck. The storm was on top of me.
As the sky lit up, I squinted to see a figure on the water. Someone was crouched on a paddle board, gripping it as it drifted in the current.
I lowered my burger to the plate, standing to get a better look. I waited impatiently for another flash of lightning. My heart pounded as I tried to reconcile what I saw—the woman from earlier was still on the paddle board. In the storm. It was almost unbelievable.
Not waiting for further confirmation, I grabbed my rain jacket, pushed open the screen door, and ran across the lawn to the dock as it slammed shut behind me.
The thunder crashed, and I waited with bated breath for the lightning to illuminate the water. Her board was drifting closer to the edge of the pier.
“Can you move toward the dock?” I yelled into the wind as I raced down it. I wasn’t sure she could hear me.
Her long hair hung like curtains around her face. She was on her knees, with her hands curled tightly around the edges of the board. If she ever had an oar, it was gone now. Fuck.
I knelt on the end of the dock and held out a hand. “Can you paddle this way?”
Her board rocked violently with the current, and with no way to steer, I worried she’d be swept away soon.
She shook her head so hard the board rocked precariously from side to side.
“You have to try. You don’t have any other choice.” All she had was me. I knew my way around a boat, but I was smart enough never to get stuck in a storm. She was an idiot for being out there. I wasn’t sure what she was trying to prove. Maybe she was a tourist and didn’t understand how dangerous it was to be on the water when a storm kicked up.
She squeezed her eyes shut tight before slowly opening them. After relaxing her grip on her board, she tentatively placed her hand in the water to propel the board toward the dock.
She was lucky the wind had sent her to that side of the pier. It would block her from traveling further downstream.
“That’s it. You’ve got it.” I used a tone I’d use on a scared kitten I was trying to coax out of a tight spot. I could only assume she was scared, and panic led to poor decisions.
“A few more …” I held my breath as I waited for her to move closer. When the board was within reach, I grabbed the edge, pulling her toward me, then grabbed her under the arms and pulled her out.
