Second Chance Sweethearts. Kristen Ethridge

flying over the outfield fence. He remembered her saying something completely serious about where they’d be in the future, and as usual, he’d laughed it off.

      “Glo...I’ve told you a thousand times. You’re not going to be happy taking over your parents’ restaurant. You just need to be around babies. Lots of them.” He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the mouth, teasing her out of her scowl and back into a smile. “Preferably mine. After I make it to the big leagues, you can stay home, knee-deep in being a mom, and we’ll pay someone to take over the restaurant. Just because being a madre is a traditional role, it doesn’t mean what’s in your heart is less valuable than being some big-shot career woman. Just be who God made you to be—and He didn’t make you to be a restaurant owner. Don’t let anyone tell you what’s in your heart is wrong. Trust me. I know you. I know you better than you know yourself, Gloria Garcia.”

       “Maybe you do, Rigo. Maybe that’s why we’ll be together forever.”

      Rigo pushed the daydream away like the windshield wipers he’d been using all afternoon. He forced himself to gain control of his thoughts, to put them back into the here and now. Gloria had called Rigo today only for Tanna’s protection.

      Not her own.

      He could only assume she’d been honest about dialing his number because she didn’t have any other options right then. She didn’t call because she needed him in her life.

      Felipe’s death was in the past. Felipe and Gloria’s son’s death was in the past.

      But in the present, Rigo Vasquez needed do his job, take Gloria and her client back to Gloria’s house so Gloria could collect a few belongings and get off the island.

      Then, once he knew they’d be safe, Rigo knew where he needed to go—back to Gloria’s past.

       Chapter Two

      After dropping Gloria, her bike and her patient off at Gloria’s house to gather some things and then get to safety, Rigo headed back to his office in the Provident Island Beach Patrol headquarters. Located on the top floor of a three-story concrete behemoth of a building that sat directly on the sand about fifty feet back from the shoreline, it looked out on an empty beach today.

      He dug through a few piles of papers, looking for a set of ATV keys, but paused and picked up the small framed picture of his mom that was still sitting on the corner of his desk. He’d always loved this picture of the two of them at a baseball tournament in his youth. Cancer took her when he was just eighteen, but it hadn’t robbed him of the memory of her steady, sweet smile.

      First Gloria, now his mom. Too many old memories were coming back to his mind today.

      Chances were that if Hurricane Hope truly came in as a strong category 3 hurricane, much of the island would be ruined. Storms like that brought feet upon feet of storm surge, and very little on the island would not be touched by it in some way, Rigo feared. The way Provident Island looked today would likely become a bittersweet memory, just like his mother and those carefree high school days when he was in love with Gloria.

      He shoved the picture in his pocket, turned off the light and locked the door.

      He didn’t know if he’d ever unlock it again.

      Taking the ride back down the elevator, Rigo realized it would probably be one of the last rides he’d get to take for a while. He held out absolutely no hope for the squeaky old elevator, which had to basically be overhauled at the end of every season because the saltwater in the air rusted out just about every part and sand wedged in every nook and cranny. No way it would survive this hurricane.

      “Goodbye, old girl,” Rigo said as he got out of the elevator and gave the buttons a small tap. He quickly tossed the picture of his mother on the front seat of his truck and headed back to the storage area underneath the Surfside Beach Pavilion to move the ATV.

      The wet sand made the ATV’s tires a bit sluggish, but Rigo was able to get some traction and speed as he headed toward the main road leading to Gulfview Boulevard.

      At the stoplight, Rigo tightened the hood of his rain jacket around the baseball cap he was wearing to keep the water out of his eyes as much as possible. This particular ATV had a sun cover on it, and while there wasn’t a drop of sunshine in the sky anymore, it did keep some of the rain out. Just not much.

      Kind of like Gloria. Now that he’d seen her, had talked to her, the sound of her voice and the look of her face played in his mind like a video loop. He couldn’t shake her from his thoughts, not even with all he needed to do to finish securing the island’s beaches and providing support for water rescues before Hurricane Hope arrived.

      As he jammed the ATV in gear as hard as he could, pushing the little green four-wheeler through the rising water, Rigo noticed a small waterspout twisting out of the harbor and hopping easily onto the waterlogged street. Hurricane Hope wasn’t playing games. A gust of wind knocked into the waterspout, shearing the little twister and stopping its momentum.

       Thump. Thump.

      What on earth?

      He felt like he was just one step ahead of being swept away or blown away, but since he hadn’t seen a car on the streets since he’d left the beach, Rigo quickly stopped the ATV, knowing he needed to make sure that whatever fell on him wasn’t going to put him in any further danger.

      He stood in the middle of the street, checked the cover above him and saw two sand trout on top of the soaked brown canvas. They’d been sucked up by the waterspout and dropped on top of the ATV when the spout died out.

      Wow. It was raining fish.

      A fishnado. He didn’t even know what to think about that.

      Static crackled and then Rigo heard a voice. “Chief Vasquez, can you give me a 10-8?”

      Rigo pulled his radio out of the plastic bag he usually carried it in to protect it from water while out on patrol. Service on the radio frequencies had been spotty all afternoon and was getting worse.

      “This is Vasquez. I’m near Fifteenth, heading for the Park Board lot to drop off the last ATV. Can someone pick me up when I get there and take me back to my truck?”

      “Not right now, sir.” Rigo could barely pick out enough syllables through the crackling to understand what the dispatcher was saying. “All of our available officers are being directed to the causeway to begin shutting it down.”

      “They’re what?”

      “Closing the causeway. The winds have come on much stronger sooner than anyone expected, and they are now too strong for cars to be at the top of the bridge.”

      Even the pounding of the rain and the static on the radio couldn’t drown out the one thought in Rigo’s mind.

      Gloria.

      She’d called him to help keep her patient safe. He doubted they’d had enough time since he dropped them off to get Gloria’s things together and subsequently get off the island. With the causeway closing, they’d both be stuck here, and the young woman was in labor. Rigo had to think of something, and fast.

      Rigo turned back toward the beach pavilion to get his truck, consigning the four-wheeler to wash away with the eventual tide. As he struggled to drive the little utility vehicle, he bowed his head, not just against the force of the blowing rain, but in a silent prayer that he still had enough time to rescue Gloria and get her off the island.

      * * *

      Gloria knew she was running out of time. But she couldn’t stop herself from looking out the window and watching the storm clouds roll in. Tanna had the TV on in the living room, and as Gloria walked past, she recognized Rick O’Connell from NWN, the National Weather News channel, reporting live from the barrier wall that ran along the beach at Gulfview Boulevard. Rick O’Connell’s presence was the sign that