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Welcome to OCEAN SHORES in the sun-soaked paradise of Oceanside, California where the ocean pounds the shore, surfers ride the early morning waves, and the local military base sends roaring jets into the sky. Just steps from the sand sits a large
apartment building filled with interesting and quirky tenants, possible love connections, and more than a few secrets! Once you come to visit, you'll never want to leave…

Don't miss a book!

1. Hopelessly Romantic
2. Summer Loving
3. Moonlight Feels Right
4. Blame It On the Bikini
5. Love Me Like You Do

Chapter 1

Working a shift with Eric Valero was like being on a bad date for eight hours. Kaia Mercer inwardly sighed as she drove the ambulance back to the station with her temporary partner talking nonstop about how great he was at everything. Shutting up was apparently not one of his many talents. She drew another deep breath as he mentioned for the tenth time a stock that he'd made a killing on by taking a tip from some guy at the gym. If he was doing so well in his outside hustles, she didn't know why he was still a paramedic floater. But she didn't want to ask, because that would only bring more words.

Two more weeks, she reminded herself. Then her partner, Dana Harvey, would be back from her Hawaiian honeymoon, and her life would return to normal. Until then, she had to put up with Eric, who wasn't terrible at his job, just not that great. Her sour mood, however, wasn't just because of Eric. It was ninety-five degrees in Oceanside, and her paramedic's uniform didn't breathe even a little bit. She was really looking forward to tomorrow, when she could put on her bikini and sit by the Ocean Shores pool, which was one of her favorite places to be. For now, the air-conditioned station would have to do.

The radio crackled as another call came in. The air conditioning and the pool would have to wait. And now her irritation was compounded by concern, because she'd been to this address twice in the past two weeks. 

"I know this man," she said. "Walter Cobb, eighty years old, diabetic, recently moved in with his granddaughter, who works all the time, leaving Walter on his own. A neighbor called in reporting a possible heart attack two weeks ago and a dizzy spell four days ago. Both times, his blood sugar was low, and he was easily stabilized."

"So, he's a frequent flyer."

"It's looking that way. He needs more care than we can give him, but he's also stubbornly independent and frankly, kind of mean. He doesn't take advice and his granddaughter has never been there when we've been called. There's no one to follow up with, except the neighbor, who's made it clear she's just calling for help, not getting involved." 

"Our job is to stabilize him. The rest is up to him and his family," Eric said with a curt edge to his voice. 

He wasn't wrong. That was the job. It just didn't always sit right with her, not when she could see a problem that could be solved, or at least improved, with more attention. 

She stopped in front of the two-story apartment building on Garrison Street in Oceanside and hopped out of the ambulance. They grabbed their gear and headed into the building, a modest, two-story structure with four apartments, two on each floor. 

Walter's unit was on the second floor, and when they reached the landing, the door across the hall opened, with a four-inch chain still firmly in place, a woman's face visible in the open crack. 

She'd met Doris Park on the last two occasions. She was a cautious, nosy woman in her seventies who lived alone, and while she didn't want to get involved, she seemed to know everything going on in the building. 

"Mrs. Park," she said. "What's going on?"

"I heard a crash. I think Walter fell again. I knocked on his door, but he didn't answer, and his granddaughter, Catherine, isn't home."

"Okay." She knocked on Walter's door. "Mr. Cobb? Are you alright?"

She heard a muffled voice, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. She tried the handle, but the door was locked. 

"I have a key," Doris volunteered, holding it in her hand as she extended her arm through the opening. 

"Thanks." She didn't bother to ask why Doris hadn't used the key herself to check on Walter. She simply unlocked the door and opened it, then handed the key to Eric, who passed it back to Doris. 

As she entered the apartment, she saw Walter in the hallway between the two bedrooms. He was on the floor, slumped against the wall, his face pale. 

"What are you doing in here?" he asked in confusion. "I didn't say you could come in."

She dropped to her knees next to him. "Mr. Cobb. It's Kaia Mercer. We met last week. Did you fall?"

"No, I didn't fall. I just sat down," he said with annoyance, but there was an uncertainty in his eyes that told the real story. 

"Why don't you let me check things out? How's your blood sugar today?"

"I don't know. Same as always," he grumbled, but he submitted to the finger prick without comment. 

The number came back lower than she wanted. She took a gel packet out of her kit. "Your sugar is low. Take this."

"I don't like the taste of that." 

"Take it anyway." She gave him a pointed look. 

He let out a weary sigh, then swallowed the gel without comment, wincing as he did so.

"Did you eat today?" she asked as Eric checked Walter's blood pressure.

"I had coffee."

"That's not food."

"Well, I wasn't hungry before. I thought I'd get something when I went out." 

"Blood pressure is low," Eric commented. "I'll take it again in a minute."

She nodded. "Where's your granddaughter, Mr. Cobb?"

"Working. And you don't need to worry Catherine about this. I'm fine. And I have places to go. I feel better now." 

"Give it another minute," she told him, putting a hand on his shoulder as he started to move. "I'm concerned about you, Mr. Cobb. This is the third time you've fallen."

"I told you I just sat down to rest."

"On the floor?" 

"It's a free country. I can sit wherever I want. It's none of your business. And you can tell that nosy neighbor to stop calling you." 

"She's worried about you, as am I. You need to stay on top of your sugar levels." 

"I can take care of myself. I've been doing it for a long time." 

She waited another five minutes, then checked his blood sugar again, happy to see the number coming up. "When does your granddaughter get home?"

"Tomorrow. She's out of town, some conference," he muttered. 

"Is there anyone else who can check on you?" 

"I don't need anyone to check on me."

"I'm concerned about your recurring falls. I'd like to take you to the hospital so they can do a more thorough workup." 

"I'm not going to the hospital. I'm fine."

"We'll need you to sign this," Eric said, putting a tablet in front of Walter. "It says you're refusing transport to the hospital. You can just use your finger—"

"I know. I did it before." Walter scribbled his name on the tablet and handed it back to Eric. 

She helped him to his feet, not thrilled at his unsteadiness, but he seemed to gather more strength as he found his balance. "I think you should stay home and rest. Whatever you need to do can wait."

"I don't need some kid like you to tell me what to do," he grumbled. "I'm fine now."

She hesitated, but Eric's muttered, "Mercer," made her realize she needed to move on, even though she wasn't comfortable leaving Walter alone. But she was a paramedic, not a babysitter, and he was stable. "Eat something. A peanut butter sandwich would be a good start."

"I will," he promised.  

She followed Eric out the door and back to the ambulance. "That's not a good living situation," she said as she got behind the wheel.

"Maybe not, but it's not up to you to change his living situation," Eric said pragmatically. "I didn't realize your sharp edge hid such a soft heart, Mercer." 

She frowned. "I'm not being soft, I'm assessing the situation, and it's not good."

"We followed protocol. Let's move on. We have another call."

"I know. I got it." But before she could tell dispatch that they were responding, they were waved off and told to return to the station. 

"We could have spent more time after all," she said with a sigh.

"And done what? Make him a sandwich?"

"Maybe. This is the third call in two weeks. What condition will he be in the next time we get a call?"

"Why do you care so much about this guy?" he challenged. "Mr. Cobb wasn't very nice."

"He's a veteran. Didn't you see the photos on the table?"

"I didn't, but okay," Eric said with a shrug. "Maybe he can get help from the VA then."

"He's probably too proud to ask." Walter reminded her of her father, another veteran too stubborn to admit he ever needed help. But she'd never been able to change his mind, either. Eric was right. She was being too soft. She'd done her job. That was it.

"What are you doing after shift?" Eric asked, interrupting her thoughts. 

"Going to bed," she replied, sensing where his question was leading. 

"At nine o'clock on a Friday night? I'm hitting up Manion's. Have you been to that new club yet? They have great music. Come with me, and I'll buy you a drink." 

"Thanks, but I'm tired and hot. If anything, I'm going to jump in the pool at my apartment building and then get into bed." 

"That apartment building you live in—Ocean Shores, right? I heard everyone who lives there is single and good-looking."

"We have older people living there, too. It's like every other building."

"That's not what my friend said. He went on a date with someone named Skye, and he said he saw nothing but bikini babes by the pool. My lease is up in September. I was thinking about checking your building out."

"There aren't any vacancies right now," she lied. 

"Are you sure? Maybe I should talk to the manager."

"Josie will tell you the same thing. I can let you know if things change." She was not at all interested in having Eric as one of her neighbors. She'd never have any peace.

"I don't know if I believe you, Mercer. What's your deal, anyway?"

"I don't have a deal."

"Well, you're not very friendly. You don't seem to have a boyfriend, but I haven't seen you on any of the dating apps." 

"I don't do them anymore. Never got good results," she said shortly. 

"But you are single."

"Yes," she muttered, not wanting to create more interest by avoiding the question. "And I'm fine with that." 

"You should still come out for a drink tonight. Have some fun. Meet some new people." 

"Another time. It's too hot." She pulled into the station with relief. "All I want right now is air-conditioning." 

* * *

Jax Ridley stood outside Manion's a little after nine, the live music drifting through the open door, giving him mixed emotions. It was the first time in months he felt the urge to go inside, but giving in to it would take him down a road he didn't need to travel. Instead, he headed down the street to his car. He'd parked by the pizza parlor, where he'd grabbed a couple of slices before taking a walk in the cool evening air, a pleasant respite from the heat of the day. 

He'd needed to get away from his stuffy apartment at Ocean Shores where the air- conditioning barely worked and the hot weather had brought the tenants out to the pool as soon as they got off work. When he'd left, there had been an impromptu barbecue going on, which seemed to occur at least three times a week. 

He'd managed to avoid the social events in the two months he'd been living in the building, but as time went on, he knew it would become more difficult to do that. When his former agent had hooked him up with the manager of the building, he'd been looking to escape, and he'd thought a beachside apartment in Oceanside was just the ticket. But he hadn't realized the apartment building would be so community-oriented, which was not the ideal environment for someone who wanted to stay out of sight.

Not that anyone had appeared to recognize him so far. Sometimes, he didn't know whether he should be offended by that or grateful. It reminded him that his fame had never been as bright as his former partner's, and maybe he should be thankful for that, too. 

As he got into his car, his phone buzzed with a series of texts. He glanced down at the screen, catching glimpses of incoming messages from his former agent, Clay Henning. Seeing Wren's name in those texts made him immediately set the phone down. He didn't want to talk to Clay about Wren, about his former life, or anything. 

He started the engine and pulled out of his spot, his phone buzzing on the console several more times. As he stopped at a light, he glanced at it again, seeing new texts from Wren's manager and her publicist. 

Swearing under his breath, he turned off his phone and started across the intersection. Despite his resolve not to get involved in whatever discussion they were having, his thoughts were taking him back in time to a life that had had so many ups and downs, so many low points and high points, so much drama that he probably should have expected it to combust long before it had. But that was the past. He was starting over. He had left all that behind him. 

As he turned the corner, his headlights suddenly caught a man stepping right into the path of his car. He slammed on the brakes and swerved to the right, hitting a recycling bin as his car came to a stop on the curb. He jumped out of his vehicle and saw an older man with gray hair, wearing a wrinkled suit, standing in the middle of the street looking around in confusion. 

Before he could take a step, another car pulled up, and a woman jumped out of the vehicle, her red hair catching his attention. He'd seen her before at Ocean Shores. She was one of his neighbors, the one who was always at the pool, the one with the stunning body and shockingly pretty face. 

But she wasn't looking at him. She was running toward the man in the middle of the road. 

"Mr. Cobb," she said. "It's me, Kaia Mercer. I saw you earlier today. The paramedic, remember? Let's go to the sidewalk." She tried to take his arm.

The old man shook her off. "What are you doing here?" the man asked in confusion.

"I'm getting you out of the street. It's not safe."

"I don't need your help."

"Mr. Cobb, please…"

As another car came down the street, he sprinted forward, not wanting to see another accident right in front of his face. "Let's get you both out of the street," he said. 

Kaia turned her head in surprise, recognition flashing through her eyes. But she didn't say anything. She tried to grab the old man's wrist, but he was too quick, and she missed. Still, she pleaded, "Come with me, Mr. Cobb." 

"I'm going the other way," the man said. "I have to find the red door. It's on this street somewhere."

Deciding it was better to go along than argue, he said, "Let us help you find the door."

"You know where it is?" the man asked as the approaching car leaned on its horn, making him jump. 

"Come this way," he said, urging him toward the sidewalk. 

"Oh, okay," the man said, shuffling his feet toward him. "I thought it might be on the other side."  

As they escorted the man to the curb, he wondered how he was going to tell the guy that he had no idea where the red door was; he'd just wanted to get him out of the street. 

"Are you feeling okay, Mr. Cobb?" Kaia asked the man when they reached the sidewalk. "Have you checked your blood sugar?"

"It's fine," the man said, an irritated look on his face. "Why are you always around anyway? Are you following me?"

"No. I keep getting called to your apartment because you keep falling down."

"Well, I didn't fall now. Leave me alone."

"You live a couple of miles away from here, Mr. Cobb," Kaia said, ignoring the man's request. "How did you get here?"

"I took a cab, and I'll take one back when I'm ready. I just need to find the red door." He turned to Jax. "You said you saw it."

"I'm not sure now that it was red. It might have been orange."

"The one I'm looking for is red," Walter said. 

"Wherever you're going, it's probably closed. It's almost ten," he said. "Maybe you should wait until tomorrow. It will be easier to find the door in the light." 

"It's that late?" the man asked.

"It is."

"Then I guess I'll call a cab. My granddaughter put the number in for me." 

"I can take you home," Kaia offered.  

"I don't need a ride from you. I can find my own way. I'm not a child." Walter punched in a number and then started talking with the cab company a moment later. 

Kaia's gaze turned to him. "You're Jax—right? My neighbor?"

"I've seen you around the building," he muttered.

"I'm just a few doors away on the first floor. I guess we finally ran into a situation where you couldn't take off without talking to me," she added, a sharp, dry note in her voice. 

"I guess we did. How do you know this guy?" 

"I'm a paramedic. I've been called to his house several times, including earlier today." 

"Not because I called you," Mr. Cobb interrupted as he put his phone into his pocket. "Nosy neighbor is always butting into my business. Cab is coming. You two can go."

"I'm going to wait," Kaia said. 

He shrugged. "Suit yourself." 

As the man crossed his arms in resignation, Kaia did the same, clearly determined not to leave the man alone until he was in a cab. That was probably a good idea, since he'd been wandering into traffic just a few minutes earlier. 

"Who are you?" the older man suddenly asked, his gaze swinging to him. 

"Jax Ridley. You walked in front of my car."

"Pedestrians have the right of way." 

"You weren't in the crosswalk; you were in the middle of the street." 

"I was looking for the red door, and you were probably going too fast." 

"I was not speeding. You need to watch where you're going."

"You need to mind your own business," he snapped. "There's my ride."

As the cab pulled up, Mr. Cobb headed toward the curb. 

"Check your blood sugar when you get home," Kaia said. "And eat something."

Her only answer was the slam of the car door. 

She shook her head in frustration as the cab pulled away. "That is a bad situation that is going to get worse." 

"Well, Mr. Cobb didn't seem to want our help."

"He's very difficult," she agreed. "I wonder what that red door was about. Do you know where it is?" 

"No idea. I just wanted to get him out of the road."

"I was right behind you when he darted in front of you. I'm so glad you didn't hit him. You had a quick reaction." 

"Lucky for him."

"Thanks for staying to help." She paused. "You know, when we see each other at Ocean Shores, you can say hello. I won't ask for your social security number or anything. You don't have to run away every time someone gets close. We're a friendly group, but privacy is also respected."

"Seriously?" he asked doubtfully. "It seems like everyone at Ocean Shores is in everyone's business."

"The people who want to be part of the group are part of it. Those who don't are not. No judgment." 

"I think you've been judging a little."

Guilt flittered through her eyes. "Maybe. But you're not the first mysterious stranger to live in the building, and at some point, everyone comes around." 

"I'm not being mysterious. I just like my privacy." 

"Then I'll say goodnight." At that, she walked back to her car and got inside. 

As she drove away, he felt a mix of emotions. The almost-collision had woken him up in a weird way, and it felt like something had shifted. He didn't feel numb anymore. His nerves were firing in an almost painful way. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Maybe once he got home, back in his apartment, behind a locked door, it would shift back…