The Complete Memories Series

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY:

Emma Hart on Smashwords

The Complete Memories Series

Copyright © 2013 by Emma Hart

Thank you for purchasing this eBook. Please keep this book in its complete original form with the exception of quotes used in reviews. No alteration of content is allowed.

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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

New Adult Contemporary Romance: This book is not recommended to anyone under the age of seventeen due to strong language and sexual themes throughout.

New Adult Books:

The Love Game (The Game, #1)

Playing for Keeps (The Game, #2)

Never Forget (Memories, #1)

Holding On (Memories, #1.5)

Always Remember (Memories, #2)

Young Adult Books:

The Mauve Legacy series:

A Magical History

Truth, Lies, and Betrayal

The Beginning of the End

Just A Pawn

Prophecy

Unfulfilled –
Coming Soon

Rachel Walter, my ever-more amazing critique partner. Who else would understand my freak-outs the way you do? Your belief and support in me amazes me every day, and I can’t wait until it’s your turn.

Dani, Christina, Heather, Carey, and my newest beta, Zoe. Thank you so much for your input and being there since the beginning of this series. I love how much you love these guys.

Kathalene, for proofing this book. A fresh set of eyes does wonders, and yours does miracles. You’re awesome, lady!

My big brother, John, because I love that you’re proud enough of me to brag about my achievements until you’re blue in the face… And that you won’t see this unless Kim tells you because you refuse to read my books based on the sexual content. I laugh every time I think about that. Love you, bro.

My babies, Alexia-Belle and the currently unnamed blue bump – you might not know it, but you’re the reason my words make it to the rest of the world. You’re both my driving force for writing, and I love you more than words can express.

Finally, my partner, Darryl, always. Your support and belief in me amazes me, and I love that you finally understand the burning need inside me to tell these stories. Your words also help with the whole “getting inside a guy’s mind” thing. Oh, and the fact you’ve given me two amazing children. I will forever be thankful to you for sitting back and letting me chase my dream.

To my Dad.

Because my whole life I’ve strived to make you proud, and now, as I sit here with my dream made a reality as a New York Times bestselling author, I know I finally have. A part of me is at peace.

Thank you for being the brightest star in my sky, inspiring me each and every day, and wordlessly reminding me never to give up.

I couldn’t have done this without your unconditional love from beyond the grave.

WELCOME TO LILAC BAY.
 

I purse my lips in aggravation. Of all the places to spend the summer, my parents have chosen here. My mother, the socialite, has chosen to spend her summer a million miles away from the designer boutiques on Oxford Street she covets. My father, the estate agent to the rich and famous, has chosen to spend his summer in a place where the houses barely hit the hundred thousand pound mark.

Me, I’ve chosen to spend my summer at home.

But at seventeen, I’m a minor. So my choices don’t count.

I turn the volume on my iPod down and pull an ear bud out as my mum waves for my attention.

“We’ll be there in ten minutes, Lexy. At least try and smile for Grammy. She’s really looking forward to seeing you.” Mum tries for a smile at my unrelenting angry face.

“I’ll smile for Grammy. Not for you.” I reply and replace my ear bud, turning the volume up and looking back out of the window.

The pavements are filled with the locals. Impatient toddlers cling to trouser legs as their parents stop to say hi to everyone. Teens gather on the corners, smoking and listening to music. Old people trudge down the streets, taking assistance from anyone who offers it, which, in this town, is easy to come by.

There aren’t any tourists. That’s obvious. Lilac Bay is too out of the way to even get those during the summer. I haven’t been here for five years but I still know every street, every turn, every corner. I know the way to the beach like the back of my hand, and I have a feeling that’ll be a good thing this year.

If I can’t be in the city with my friends, the beach isn’t a bad alternative. But why can’t it be like, Spain or something?

I love my Grammy, I really do, and I’m definitely looking forward to seeing her, but I just don’t want to be here. Did I mention that? Of course I did. It’s all my parents have heard from me for the last month. I begged them to let me stay with Jayna, my best friend, but they said no, of course.

So I’m destined to two months of torture. No bars, no clubs, no friends.

It’s gonna be the worst summer on record. Ever.

Under the salty smell of the sea, the distinct, unmistakeable scent of cow poo drifts to my nose. Of course, how could I forget that beautiful smell? Oh, good old Devon. It’s always full of it. I wrinkle my face up and press the button to shut my window.

Dad pulls the car up outside the small, two-storey cottage I know so well. Pink rose bushes still climb around the door in a random pattern, the white window panes are immaculate, and the white paint on the exterior is slightly cracked and weathered. Too many flowers crowd the beds lining the cobbled path up to the little wooden door.

The door opens revealing the salt-and-pepper-haired, wrinkled woman I know and love as my Grammy. One side of my mouth curls up as I see her and I rip the headphones from my ears. I push the door open - not too enthusiastically since I don’t want my parents knowing I’m even a little excited - and skip down the pathway to her.

“Lexy girl!” Grammy cries, wrapping her arms round me.

“Hey, Grammy.” I hug her back and take in her distinctive scent of roses, fresh blossoms and a hint of freshly baked bread. “How are you?”

“Still alive, dear, still alive.” She chuckles and moves to hug the parents.

I shake my head - I’ve forgotten her dark sense of humour. Of course, at 68 years old she would be glad she was still alive.

“Mum, it’s been too long,” Mum says and embraces Grammy.

“I know, love. I’ve missed you,” she replies.

Grammy moves to Dad and greets him the same way. I look around as the sea breeze ruffles through my long, dark hair.

Grammy must have every type of flower possible in her front garden. Roses, hyacinth, tulip, growing sunflowers, pansies, and everything else you can think of. I’d bet my favourite Gucci purse she’d spent half her pension on her garden already this summer.

“Lexy?” Mum’s voice pulls me back from my musings and I look up. “Grab your bags from the car, sweetie. Grammy wants to show you your new room.”

“My new room?” I turn to Grammy.

“Of course, dear,” she chuckles and clucks her false teeth. “I highly doubt you’re much into Westlife these days, so I had your room redecorated for you.”

I smile as I remember my unhealthy love of my favourite boy band. If I’m honest, I still love them, but I’d never admit it. Not to anyone but Grammy, anyway. I grab my suitcase and duffel bag from the boot of the car and follow her into the cottage. I heave the fit-to-burst suitcase up the old, wooden stairs after her and into my room.

“Here we are, Lexy girl.” Grammy pushes the door open and I gasp.

The once Westlife plastered, pink room is now a powder blue and white. Thin, gauzy curtains flutter at the open window, and a shell design quilt lies on the bed. The walls are decorated with driftwood frames filled with local beach shots and shells hanging on string. White wooden furniture accompanies the new design, and I turn to my Grammy with adoration in my eyes.

“I love it. Thank you, Grammy.” I hug her and she grips me back.

I can feel her spine under my hands. She’s lost weight since I’ve seen her.

She pulls back and smiles at me widely. “Don’t worry, dear.” She winks. “Your albums are in a box under the bed.”

I crinkle my eyes and grin. “You’re the best.”

“That’s what they all say,” she sighs. “I’m going to check on your parents, you’ll be okay here?”

I look around my room again. “I’ll be more than okay.”

“Good.” She turns and shuffles off, stopping at the top of the stairs. “Do you know when your brother will be here?”

“He said he’d try to get here on Monday,” I call over my shoulder and enter my room properly.

Grammy’s cottage is high up, and from my window I have an amazing view of the Bay. I’ve spent too many summers to count at Lilac Bay, sitting on the beach collecting shells, rock pooling, and building endless sandcastles. I smile wistfully at my childhood memories and pull the curtains aside for a clearer look.

The grass from the dunes sways in the wind, and the golden sand stretches out for a mile. One end of the bay is covered with rocks, perfect for rock pooling and climbing. Pebbles are scattered on the sand around them, and the outgoing tide reaches for them desperately, only to be pulled away empty handed.

Movement catches my eye from below on Grammy’s garden. I move my eyes from the Bay and towards her herb patch.

A boy – can I call him a boy? - is working there, digging, planting and watering. I watch with slight interest as his muscles ripple below his shirt which clings tight to him due to the hot weather. He pauses and runs a muddy hand through his dark brown, messy hair, making it stick up in all directions. I instinctively move my hand to smooth my own when he looks up, straight at me.

I get a good look at his face. Under the mass of brown hair stormy, blue grey eyes hide. His features are clearly defined, his skin tanned from the current heat wave rolling through the country. Even the dirt streaked across his face doesn’t mar his obvious good looks. He raises a hand up to me in greeting and smiles. Even from my window, his dimples do not escape my notice.

Oh, dimples.

Why is it always those that get me?

I smile tightly and step away from the window, replacing the curtain.

I’m not here to make friends.

The sun beats down on me when I get the feeling I’m being watched. I look around but I’m alone in Vi’s garden. I go back to digging but the feeling doesn’t leave, It’s crawling over me and demanding my attention.

Impulsively, I look up. A face is peeking out from behind the curtains upstairs.

The first thing I notice is her cappuccino-coloured brown eyes.

I’m drawn to them like a fish is to water. The soft, milk chocolatey colour holds my attention completely and I barely take in the rest of her, only just acknowledging the dark brown, wavy hair and plump pink lips that scream kiss me. I raise a hand to her in greeting and her eyes narrow slightly but she waves back. The curtain snaps closed and she disappears behind it.

She must be Vi’s granddaughter down for the summer. What was her name? I tap my fingers against the trowel. Ally... Alexa... No, Alexis.

It suits her. There’s a fire in her eyes and even though I shouldn’t, I want to know more about her.

She’s on my mind for the rest of the afternoon and I nearly cut myself with the trowel more times than I care to count. It’s a relief when I hear Vi yell my name.
I’m covered in mud, my jeans are ripped and I’m about to meet her family... Including the beautiful Alexis.

“Who’s Alec?” I hear her ask.

“I am,” I say, appearing at the glass door. Her head whips round and she studies me. Those brown eyes trawl over me and I bite my tongue to keep from making a flirtatious comment in front of her parents.

I take a minute to look her over. She’s even hotter up close with her lips pursed. Even though she’s sat down I can see the lines of her body, perky breasts, a smooth waist and hips that would fit perfectly in my hands while I....

“I’m just going to get cleaned up, Vi,” I say, turning my attention from the girl who can turn me on with just a look. “Don’t worry about waiting for me.”

“Okay, dear.” Grammy replies and pats my arm with a wrinkled hand. I stroll from the room, calmer than I feel right now.

It’s gonna be a long fuckin’ summer.
 

~

After unpacking my monstrous suitcase, I shower and change into a simple strap top and shorts. My wet hair is piled atop of my head in a messy twist and I have on the bare minimum of make-up.

I trudge my way down the stairs towards the smell of pasta. Tomato, basil and cheese fills the air and my stomach rumbles. Oh, how I’ve missed my Grammy’s cooking.

“Something smells good,” I compliment, resting my chin on her shoulder and gazing into the pan. I make to steal the spoon and she slaps my hand away.

“Alexis, leave it alone. You’re just like your mother when she was your age.”

“Mum was practically married at my age,” I point out and run the tap to let the cold water through before shoving a glass under it and filling it. “I, however, am nowhere near such a thing.”

“Not even a boyfriend?”

“Like I have time for a boyfriend.”

“You must have a few admirers?” Grammy turns and her eyes are sparkling. Of course, she wants a girlie chat. Because that’s what sixty-eight year old women do with their seventeen year old granddaughters.

“A few.” I shrug non-committally and place my empty glass on the side. “I have an education to worry about, Grammy.”

“Of course, you’re off to university in the summer. How did you do in your a-levels?”

I wrinkle my face. “Okay, I think. We don’t get the results for a few weeks, but mine are forwarded to come here.”

“Well,” she shuffles about getting plates from the cupboards. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. You have your father’s brains. Be a dear and set the table for me.” She hands me the plates and I move into the adjoining dining room.

Despite how old the cottage is, Grammy has sliding French doors installed in the dining room that lead straight into the back garden. The doors are open, leaving a refreshing breeze flowing through.

I finish setting the table as the antique grandfather clock in the living room chimes five o’clock.

“Good to see you helping out, Lexy.” Mum comments as she breezes in in a maxi dress. Designer, of course. Not for the first time, I wonder how growing up in a small, country beach town made my mum into London’s favourite socialite.

“I always help Grammy out,” I reply curtly and sit down.

“I know, I just thought you would have grown out of that by now.” She smiles and I grunt.

So what if a part of me is happy to be here? I’m still destined to spend two months in a place where I know no one.

“Here we go,” Grammy says, walking in with the sauce in a bowl. Dad follows behind with a large bowl of pasta. They both take a seat after setting them in the middle of the table and I notice there’s an extra place set.

“Grammy?” I ask across the table. “Why are there five places set?”

“For Alec,” she responds, leaning back. “Alec! Dinner’s ready, dear.”

“Who’s Alec?” I look at both of my parents then back to her.

“I am,’’ a voice says from the doorway. I turn to see the boy who was working in the garden earlier. I look him over and he’s even better looking than I thought. That top really clings to him in a way that the government should make illegal, and there’s a slight heat to his eyes when I meet them.

“I’ll just go and get cleaned up, Vi,” he says to Grammy. “Don’t worry about waiting for me.”

“Okay, dear.” Grammy replies and pats his arm with a wrinkled hand. He strolls from the room and I tilt my head questioningly.