Blue Moon and Starry Nights

By Ryan Jo Summers

For Kamryn Kline, third-generation owner of Serendipity's Simply Sweet Dips Ice Cream Shoppe, a new freezer is essential for her Driftwood Bay business. The unexpected cost could prevent her from making a profit from the summer
tourist season.
Antique broker Spencer Days witnesses a crime at work and suddenly becomes part of the Witness Protection Program.
Whisked away to the isolated island of Driftwood Bay, he's reinvented as David Stone: sanitation worker.
Neither Kamryn nor David are looking for attachments, but what happens with warm island winds, hot summer nights, cool ice cream, and starry skies is anyone's guess.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: May 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781509235827

Ryan Jo Summers

Ryan Jo Summers is an author who writes across the genres. She pens romance novels blending elements of Inspirational, suspense, mystery, paranormal and time travel in any combination. She covers non-fiction as well as fictional short stories and poetry. In her spare time, she likes to hang out with her pets, go to the nearby forest and river or gather with friends. She collects wicker baskets, lighthouse figurines and houseplants. She also likes to cook, creating new recipes from old favorites. If she has any time left over, she paints ceramics and acrylics on canvas. She makes her home in the beautiful mountains of Western North Carolina.

Book preview

Press

I had a fantastic time tonight. You are always great to be around. But I have to know something before we get too carried away.

Carried away? He arched his brow again.

Serious about seeing each other romantically.

He nodded, his lips thinning.

That tic was back in his jaw. Her heart clenched. She fisted her hand around the fabric of her skirt.

You want to know how long I’m really here for?

She folded her hands on her lap. It’s reasonable to know. You are a confessed wanderer. She swallowed. I’m afraid of really falling for you, David, more so than I already have. And then you leave, and I’ll be brokenhearted. Please convince me you aren’t going to do that. She watched his tic double its speed. She fought to keep the tears from falling and edging into her voice. I have to know if I can trust you with my heart, David.

He stared out the windshield with his hands curled around the steering wheel, and his knuckles turned white.

Her heart dropped, and nausea clawed up her throat. So much for her fairy tale.

Yes, I am a wanderer, he said slowly.

When he turned, his profile was lost in the darkness, but the look in his gray eyes melted her heart. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes before he finished speaking.

Kamryn, I can’t give you anything than just right now.

She swallowed again, gagging on the sobs. And that’s why I can’t get involved with you, David, as much as I really like you. I’m so sorry.

Blue Moon and Starry Nights

by

Ryan Jo Summers

One Scoop or Two

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Blue Moon and Starry Nights

COPYRIGHT © 2021 by Ryan Jo Summers

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Rae Monet, Inc

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Edition, 2021

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-3582-7

One Scoop or Two

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

This work is dedicated to my sister, Susan Dawson Hogle. You’ve been instrumental from its creation, and I am glad to have you be a part of this from beginning through critique to finished product. I am so proud of our Blue Moon and Starry Nights. Thank you.

Chapter 1

Spencer Days let out a low groan that ended in a tired sigh. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Nine minutes until ten p.m. He’d been pretty much stuck at this desk on the second floor of the antique brokerage office since seven this morning, but he didn’t feel like he’d accomplished much. He rubbed his eyes, yawned, and arched his back to stretch out the kinks. Tossing down his pencil, he pushed himself away from the keyboard and exhaled again. He eased back in his chair and straightened out more kinks. His stomach rumbled, and he frowned. He wanted a break and some food.

These late nights needed to stop. Next to the clock was a calendar displaying a tropical beach scene, flipped to May. Maybe he would finally take some time off and book a trip to one of those sunny, beachy locations he could only stare at each month. He stood and moved away from his desk, yawned, stretched again, and cast a reflective scowl at the paperwork still strewn about. Where was the end to all his labor? Would he ever reach a point where he made a dent in his daily to-do list?

Maybe he should just call it quits for the night and tackle the workload fresh in the morning? He needed to talk to his boss about this extra workload and the long hours. When he was promoted to senior manager of Presson Antiques Brokerage, he knew it would come with added responsibilities, but fourteen-plus-hour workdays were a tad ridiculous.

He nodded in self-satisfaction as he pocketed his cell phone. He liked the idea of calling it a day right now. A smile tugged at his lips as he reached the doorway and flipped off the light. Tension already eased off his shoulders and restored the flexibility. Tomorrow. All this paperwork, the phone calls, the emails, and accounting could all wait until tomorrow. And so could the conversation with his boss about these crazy hours.

He closed his office door and headed down the hall to the elevator. He’d grab a quick snack in the lounge and then make the drive home. With good traffic, he could reach his condo by ten thirty. He grinned again at the thought of what waited for him there. He pictured a TV dinner and a beer or two, and he could probably catch a buzz and a good game before bed. Yes, what a life.

Voices drifted down the hall. He froze. They were faint, but he clearly heard two or three separate male voices in a building that should be empty. Strange. He moved to the wall, hugging it as he crept closer to the elevator and the lounge. The voices became louder, more distinct, and angrier. He recognized his boss, Louis Presson, and he heard two different, unknown male voices. By the speed they talked and volume they spoke over each other, he didn’t think he wanted to get involved.

His heart pounded heavily as he made out the angry retorts and sharp accusations. Should he return to his office and wait it out? Should he call 9-1-1? He dipped into his pocket for his phone. Should he saunter by as if he hadn’t noticed them? This was the only way out of the building, as even the fire escape stairs were past them. Now he understood the term trapped like a rat. Just as he decided a safe retreat was the best option, he heard a hollow click behind him, near his left ear.

Going somewhere?

His thudding heart stalled, and he automatically raised his hands. He licked his dry lips. Yeah, I was heading for the john, he answered as nonchalantly as he could manage. He probably sounded like a scared kid. The gun jabbed his back, forcing him toward the arguing men.

Look what I found, the man said as they rounded the corner.

Spencer and the man entered the gray-paneled room usually reserved for meetings with special clients, like the affluent buyer who would come from out of the country, loaded with high expectations and lots of money. Plants in ceramic pots, crystal glasses, and heavy chandeliers—all antique samples—decorated the room to cater to such customers. Tonight, it wasn’t a well-heeled client expecting to be catered to. What Spencer was seeing now looked bad.

His boss sat at the head of the six-seat table, with his hands curled into fists and anger twisting his face. Louis, short, paunchy, ruddy faced when excited, balding, and prone to dressing like they were in Miami and not Michigan, turned to them.

His face fell. Spence. Oh man, Spencer. You weren’t supposed to be here so late. You shouldn’t have to see this.

Spencer thought about mentioning the mammoth workload he now had but decided that simple request paled compared to the scene before him. In addition to Louis, he could not forget the man who still held the gun in his back. Three other men were present, all dressed in dark clothes, ties, and wearing matching somber expressions.

One guy sat in the center of the others, hands bound in front of him, and looking as scared as Spencer felt. A briefcase rested on the table, and he could see stacks upon stacks of money—lots of cash. Next to that sat a black duffle bag. More handguns rested at the ready. He wondered what was in the bag. Drugs? Weapons? On second thought, he didn’t want to know.

He just stumbled into one heck of a bad deal—arms, money, and whatever else, and one scared-looking dude. His pulse raced as he pondered how many ways this situation could not be good.

He swallowed. Was that guy going to die? Were they going to kill him too? He focused on the blood pounding in his ears. He ran his sandpaper dry tongue over his parched lips. His mouth was too parched to produce enough saliva to swallow. Look, Louis, um… I can see you’re busy, so I’ll just forget any of this happened. I’ll go home and have a beer, ya know. I might take tomorrow off if that’s okay. Yes, he was babbling, but he was scared, and it had to show.

Louis took a drag of a cigarette and carefully placed it back in a tray on the table. Smoke curled lazily upward and disappeared.

The smell permeated the air, making Spencer’s stomach turn over. Since when did Louis smoke? His boss’s smile sent a cold chill slithering over him.

Spencer, I can’t let you go. He took a step toward him.

Spencer focused on the scary glint in his boss’s eyes. A shiver raced down his spine at the murderous twinkle. He cleared his throat to get the words out in a desperate plea. Louis, I swear I won’t say anything. I don’t even know what’s going on here. I don’t want to know. He held his hands out in mute appeal. His knees shook like when he was seventeen and rode his first roller coaster. His stomach twisted in knots, and his breath caught in his tight chest. Right now, escape was paramount in his mind. Dread swirled around him like the smoke from Louis’s cigarette resting on the table.

Sorry, Spence. I really wish you hadn’t been here. He nodded his head toward the guy still holding the gun. Raul, take care of him. Bye, Spence. Finished, Louis turned away.

Louis? Disbelief washed over Spencer, momentarily overriding the foreboding dread.

Raul grabbed Spencer’s arm and prodded him with the gun. That way, he snarled, nodding toward the fire escape.

A huge dumpster stood under the steps.

Did Raul plan to kill him and toss his body in the dumpster? That was not how he wanted to die. He had too much living to do still, and so much to accomplish. Behind him he heard more pleading cries, a muffled bark of a gunshot, and a gentle thud. The guy with the bound hands… Hot bile rushed to his mouth. He knew he was next, and everything inside him went ice cold.

Suddenly a surge of anger washed over him. He wasn’t