Free Her Forbidden Love (Indigo Island Book 2) by Kaira Rouda

drove quickly away.
    It was getting eerily dark outside, almost as if night had fallen when it was only four in the afternoon. A crack of thunder boomed above Dorsey’s head and she saw a lightning bolt strike on Hilton Head, near the famous red-and-white striped lighthouse. They’d close the pool for sure, she realized, and decided to head there to find Jack, even though it was wrong for her to want to be near him, even though he might have made plans with Rebecca. It was as if an invisible force was pulling her to him. She made it to the pool as the last of the guests were hurrying away in their golf carts.
    Jack grinned when he saw her. “Hey beautiful, ready for your first Indigo Island storm?” he said, unzipping his backpack and rummaging through its contents. “Not that it matters. I’m prepared for both of us.”
    He pulled out what looked like a yellow garbage bag. “Voilà! A rain poncho, straight from Disney World. Present from Mom. Just ignore the big mouse ears and think of me as a bright yellow beacon on a rather miserable day. I have an extra. Want to borrow it?”
    He had unconsciously run his fingers through his dark brown hair, and it stood up. When he grinned, a dimple appeared on the left side of his smile. Dorsey hadn’t felt this tingle inside for years, maybe never.
    The feeling was happiness, she realized. And a really big, teenage-sized crush.
    “Give me a poncho, buster, and let’s explore this little resort in the rain. It’ll be fun. We look like a couple of overgrown ducks,” Dorsey said, pulling the yellow tent over her head.
    “Hey, wait for Big Bird, would ya,” Jack said, hanging the “pool closed” sign.
    They walked together in the pouring rain, past cottage after cottage, first the employee row and then the ocean-front guest cottages, which alternated blue, white, and yellow, blue, white, and yellow, until finally they reached the seawall protecting the cottages and the inn from the ravages of the Atlantic storms that would always come.
    “You know, this is pretty.” Jack yelled to be heard over the crashing waves, pressing wind, and whipping rain. “Good shelling and arrowhead finding tomorrow!”
    “I like finding colonial pottery shards. I have started quite a collection—that and my spearhead.” She turned to look up at him, and Jack leaned over and gave her a quick kiss, as water ran down both of their faces. Dorsey’s knees almost buckled.
    “Sorry, couldn’t help it,” Jack said, smiling. “Let’s go near the water.”
    “Strong currents,” Dorsey said, shaking her head.
    “Yes, there are. Oh, you mean the water,” he teased. “We’re not going swimming. We’re just walking next to it. Come on. We’re already wet. I love the power of the ocean. I’ll hold your hand.” He jumped from the seawall to the sand a foot below. Reaching up, he held her with ease before lowering her to the sand. It was scary and sexy, all at the same time she realized as her heart thudded in her chest.
    “Come on,” he yelled, pulling her hand.
    The waves thundered, making it impossible to talk. By the water’s edge, the wind’s strength forced Dorsey to bend her head down to her chest. Her heart was pounding, the angry waves so close, so violent and still building in the normally flat and calm sound, but holding Jack’s hand made her feel safe, grounded. At that moment, she realized, Jack seemed to have always been with her, that he always should be. Protecting her, saving her.
    Once they had walked far enough out and were walking parallel to the inn, she pulled on his hand, directing him back toward the gazebo and the grand yellow building beyond.
    “OK,” he said, grinning at her and then lifting her back up onto the seawall before climbing back up himself. Together they ran to the white lattice gazebo, but it offered no protection from the growing storm.
    “We need to get to the inn,” he yelled, and she nodded. They hurried up the oyster shell path. When Jack