Barefoot Bay: Divine Connection (Kindle Worlds Novella) Read online

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Roxanne St. Claire. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Barefoot Bay remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Roxanne St. Claire, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  Divine Connection

  By Amy Lyon

  Table of Contents

  Letter from Roxanne St. Claire

  About the Author

  Divine Connection

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Please enjoy this excerpt from Divine Interruption

  Stay Connected

  Acknowledgements

  Also by Amy Lyon...

  Letter from Roxanne St. Claire

  Welcome to Barefoot Bay Kindle World, a place for authors to write their own stories set in the tropical paradise that I created! For these books, I have only provided the setting of Mimosa Key and a cast of characters from my popular Barefoot Bay series. That’s it! I haven’t contributed to the plotting, writing, or editing of Divine Connection. This book is entirely the work of Amy Lyon, a dear friend and fellow Florida writer who has returned to Barefoot Bay with another inspirational read.

  I have no doubt my readers will adore this military hero and his working dog, together in Mimosa Key after being injured in the line of duty. His transition to civilian life is tough, and his fledgling business is failing until a beautiful woman with a knack for mixing things up to make them right changes everything. With past hurts that have to heal, this couple will take you on a soul-satisfying ride you won’t soon forget.

  Roxanne St. Claire, the creator of Barefoot Bay

  PS. If you’re interested in the rest of the Barefoot Bay Kindle World novels or would like to explore the possibility of writing your own book set in my world, visit www.roxannestclaire.com for details!

  About the Author

  Amy Lyon is the author of Stories That Inspire, a collection of inspirational romance novels and one powerful memoir. She lives on Florida’s East Coast where she writes, reads, soaks up the sun and treasure hunts on the beach. Did you know she publishes a Pinterest board for each of her books – complete with photos of her character’s homes and other fun tidbits? Be the first to learn about giveaways and new releases by joining her monthly newsletter: http://www.amylyon.com/newsletter.htm

  Website * Facebook * Pinterest

  Divine Connection

  By Amy Lyon

  How much weight can you give your past…

  Without tipping the scales on your future?

  Sara Shaw can mix up the perfect blend of essential oils to transport her customers “happier places,” much like the beachside community she’s escaped to after a series of traumatic events. Yet she can’t concoct the magical blend of time, space and distance to safely shelter her from her past and find a new identity in the future.

  Jackson Levy knows exactly who he is: An honorably discharged soldier back in Mimosa Key to run his dad’s surf shack. Not too impressive, but he tries to make the best of it. He was able to adopt his military working dog, Jax, after they were wounded in Afghanistan, which eased his transition back into civilian life.

  Between renting out beach bikes and snorkel gear to vacationers, Jackson strives to come to terms with this new direction for his life. Easier said than done with an outdated business and a drooping bottom line.

  But Sara has a knack for marketing and Jackson has a proposal that could benefit both of them. Can they mix their talents to discover the secret formula for success and love? Or will the weight of the past tip the scales against a future together?

  CHAPTER ONE

  Sara Shaw pushed open the door of her new storefront, Sweet Serenity, and reeled back a few steps as the smell of rotten fish guts hit her.

  She hissed and pinched her nostrils. “Good Lord.”

  Using her purse as a doorstop, she propped the front door open and, holding her breath, moved quickly through the space to swing open the rear door. Mother Nature would have to deliver a strong crosswind and a pound of sage to burn the stench out of this place.

  Disappointment swam up her spine and her shoulders dropped. Was it too much to ask that one thing go right today? She had hoped the sheer joy of walking into this building would be the Magic Eraser to clean up her stained and tarnished life.

  No such luck.

  Tears welled, but she closed her eyes and shooed them away with deep breaths. She’d come this far without breaking down—unless you counted the flat tire on a busy Georgia interstate—and she wasn’t about to lose her composure now.

  She’d arrived. This stinky little shop situated on a twelve-mile-long island off Florida’s Gulf Coast was home now. How bad could this slice of paradise really be?

  “’Scuse me, do you have any bait fish for sale?”

  Sara whipped around at the sound of the deep voice and remembered her purse by the front door. With a hammering heart, she crossed the small room.

  “Leeches?” he asked and cocked his head.

  Sara took in the handsome man who’d settled against the doorframe of her shop, one arm resting casually above his head. A gentle swirling started in her midsection and a deep breath lodged in her throat

  Jackson. She could have picked him out in a crowd based on her cousin Andi’s description: Part surfer, part soldier, and wholly hunky.

  And single.

  The single tidbit hadn’t fazed her before, but she felt fazed and frazzled now as she took in his dark hair, soulful eyes and playful grin. She knew he’d been honorably discharged from the military a few years ago and returned to Mimosa Key to run his dad’s surf shack. She also knew he’d be the best man in Andi’s wedding in a few weeks and she’d be the maid of honor. She’d link her arm with his and walk down the aisle. He’d be her other half for the night...

  Her eyes popped open.

  “Okay, minnows,” he said. “I’ll take one bucket of minnows.”

  Sara found her footing. “Funny,” she said, pushing her hands onto her hips. “If I could bottle and sell the smell of this place as an olfactory-gland poison, I’d be a millionaire.”

  He threw his head back and the genuine amusement in his laugh caught her off guard.

  She extended her hand. “Sara. New store owner and lover of good smells.”

  “Jackson. Official welcoming committee of Mimosa Key.”

  His large hand captured hers and, to her surprise, she giggled. The joy-filled sound had eluded her for so long.

  She cleared
her throat and waved her hand around the room. “I knew there would be work to do, like paint and maybe new flooring eventually, but this smell is horrendous. I’m not sure how I’ll get rid of it.”

  “Lysol spray? Maybe a strong air freshener? Something fruity?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I prefer a more natural approach,” she said and that silly little giggle was back. “Thanks, though.”

  Jackson shoved his hands into the pockets of khaki cargo shorts. “Smell’s not nearly as bad as it was when Bob’s Bait Shop was here.”

  She shot him a sideways glance and moved toward the front window, where she flipped the latch to open it. “I would have steered clear of this block if it smelled any worse than this.”

  “Kinda hard to avoid when I’m right next door.” He jabbed a thumb toward the ocean-blue, shack-style building to her left.

  She peered out the window that refused to budge. “The surfboard rental place, right?”

  “Not just surfboards. Paddleboards, kayaks, snorkel gear, beach bikes, inline skates and…” he looked up and tapped his chin consideringly. “Oh yes, a whole lot of fishing equipment and no bait shop on the island.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Not your fault.” He stepped in front of her and rocked the window pane as he lifted.

  The window didn’t budge.

  “Why did the bait shop close?”

  “Owner passed away,” Jackson said flatly. He ran his finger along the seam where the window met the trim. “Painted shut. I’ve got a screwdriver next door and can break the seal.”

  Sara’s eyes fixed on the deep tan of his forearms. “Thanks, but I’ll take care of it myself.”

  “Why?”

  Because I’m fiercely independent and completely immune to the effects of strong, handsome men.

  “I’m very handy,” she lied.

  He huffed. “You just rent this place. The problems aren’t yours to fix.”

  She smiled tentatively, unaccustomed to someone looking out for her.

  “Fine, I’ll let you fix my window, but I am going to let the landlord know I’m not happy at all about the smell of this place.” She took her phone out of her pocket and scrolled through the contacts.

  Jackson lightly touched her hand. “Let me take care of it. You’ve had a long day of driving.”

  “Oh... well, okay,” she said. “Thank you.”

  Andi must have told Jackson a bit about her, too, since he knew she’d had a long day of driving. She wondered how much Andi had shared.

  Jackson waved his hand. “Maintenance is the landlord’s responsibility. There are a few things that need to be fixed at my place, too.” He turned in the doorway. “How about I help you get whatever you need tonight from your moving truck and you can start fresh in the morning.”

  Sara eyed him warily. Why are you being so helpful? But her caution quickly morphed into exhaustion, and she thought a helping hand could be the cherry on top of an otherwise less-than-spectacular Sunday.

  “I am exhausted,” she said and looked out at the parking lot. “The landlord said he’d meet me here so I could get into the apartment. I really don’t want to stay another night in a hotel.”

  Jackson pushed a hand into the pocket of his shorts and produced a ring with two keys. “Good thing I saw you drive up, since I just so happen to have the keys to your cottage.” A teasing glint flashed in his blue-gray eyes. “I am the official welcoming committee, remember?”

  Sara marveled at how her low mood turned buoyant in Jackson’s presence. This guy was a lucky charm who not only helped her unload two suitcases, but also led her along a curved pathway to the cottage behind the shop. Lavender plants grew wild in the rocks and her heart nearly stopped when she saw the front steps that led to the cute little porch on front of the butter cream-colored building.

  “It’s adorable,” she sighed as she ascended the stairs behind him, holding the white railing. She’d seen pictures, but the real deal was so much better.

  “Don’t fall in love yet,” he said. “We’ll have to see how it smells inside.”

  She couldn’t tell if he was joking, but the gentleness in his eyes told her she could trust him.

  “Please tell me nothing died in here,” she said on a sigh, praying for a less fishy fragrance.

  Jackson put the key in the lock and turned to face her. “Pretty sure nothing died. But even if it did, I try to remember that even in death there can be new life. I’m sure you will bring new life to this cottage and to the shop.”

  Sara flinched and sucked in a breath as he pushed open the door.

  “You okay?” he asked, touching her arm.

  A flame ignited in her chest and spread up her neck to her cheeks. Like little fire hydrants tasked with putting out the flames, her eyes filled with tears that spilled over and ran down her face, pooling in her hands that she lifted swiftly to her face to catch them.

  She was ugly-crying, for sure.

  * * *

  Jackson Levy didn’t want to make his new neighbor cry. Unfortunately, he was pretty sure saying something stupid like, “Even in death there can be new life” wasn’t the best comment to make to a widow.

  He didn’t know if he should hug her or retreat from the cottage slowly, hands raised and unthreatening. Her face was hidden in her hands as she sobbed, and he was afraid the next words out of his mouth would either make her cry harder or tick her off. So he remained silent and tried to bring comfort by lightly touching her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” she finally said, and dug in her purse to produce a small, tattered roll of toilet paper. “I left Minnesota two days ago looking forward to this new adventure and everything, I mean everything, that could go wrong has gone wrong.”

  Going for encouragement, Jackson said softly how brave he thought she was to trek across the country by herself and start fresh on this island where her cousin, Andi, was the only person she knew. He imagined her tears had less to do with the last forty-eight hours and more to do with the avalanche of adversity that had been dropped on this poor woman in the last two years.

  Considering what she’d been through, based on the small amount of history he knew, he had no intention of complicating her life.

  Quite the opposite, actually.

  Jackson was a sucker for a damsel in distress and even more of a sucker now that he saw this particular damsel was a lovely brunette with a tousled ponytail and tender, emerald green eyes. He cautiously pulled her into a loose side hug, moving slowly so she could stop him if she wanted to.

  She relaxed into him and when she tipped her head to look up, he had to fight the urge to pull her into a full bear hug. He could soothe the wrinkles from her forehead in seconds if she’d let him.

  But Sara Shaw needed a friend. Stability. Not some ex-Army guy overwhelming her with affection and insight into her personal life. He knew about pain and loss, too, but he’d managed to push the pain aside and move forward.

  Albeit clumsily.

  She unraveled the last bit of toilet paper and shoved the empty cardboard roll into her purse.

  “I’ve got real tissues next door if you want me to grab them,” he offered, holding the front door open so she could enter the cottage when she was ready. “And a strong air freshener.”

  She blew her nose and made a joke of sniffing the air as she stepped through the threshold. “The smell’s not bad,” she said and took a slow 360-degree turn around the living room. “In fact, this place is really cute.”

  He was glad she thought so. With the help of Andi and her fiancé, Matt, Jackson had gutted the ’70s-style cottage Bob’s Bait Shop had used for storage and miscellaneous junk and turned the small space into a beachy oasis.

  The cottage was cozy, and the concrete structure had strong bones and a chance at a new beginning, something he supposed Sara could use.

  The project was good for him, too. Focusing on making someone else’s dreams come true helped him forget how his own life had taken a massive route c
hange.

  “Andi said you had a few items, dishes and things, and that you’d go shopping for the rest.”

  “I’ll get them out of the truck tomorrow. I left most of my old stuff behind.”

  Jackson tried to imagine the cottage through her eyes as he followed her across the living room and into the galley-style kitchen.

  “I love the countertops,” she said, running a hand along the smooth surface.

  “A friend of mine on the island makes countertops from recycled glass bottles.” He leaned against the refrigerator, the stainless steel helping to cool the sudden desire he had to learn more about her. “I have the same ones in my house.”

  Sara bent over and examined the floating shards of glass encased in a clear epoxy. From his vantage point, the emerald green of the piece she ran her finger over perfectly matched her eyes.

  She moved through the kitchen and stopped in the doorway of the large bedroom, where a blowup bed had been set up. She slipped off her sandal and ran a bare foot across the floor.

  “This flooring is beautiful. Is it wood?”

  “Tile,” he said and stepped around her to walk to the center of the large space. “It’s made to look like white-washed wood. Very durable and helps keep the place cool when Mother Nature turns up the heat. This is the same tile I have in my house.”

  When Sara looked up at him, her eyes were filled with tears again.

  “Oh, look,” Jackson said hurriedly, trying to ward off more tears. “This closet is huge. Girls love huge closets, right?”

  Sara tried for a laugh, but the breath she let out quivered. Without thinking about his words, Jackson muttered details about the baseboards and the white shiplap paneling on the walls in an attempt to distract her from whatever emotional firestorm swirled inside of her.