With This Fling (Summersweet Island Book 5) Read online

  With This Fling

  Copyright © 2022 Tara Sivec

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  License Notice

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you wish to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Disclaimer

  This is a work of adult fiction. The author does not endorse or condone any of the behavior enclosed within. The subject matter may not be appropriate for minors. All trademarks and copyrighted items mentioned are the property of their respective owners.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Other Books in the Summersweet Island Series

  About the Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Other Books in the Summersweet Island Series:

  Kiss My Putt (Summersweet Island #1)

  Swing and a Mishap (Summersweet Island #2)

  Dashing Through the No (Summersweet Island #3)

  First and Tension (Summersweet Island #4)

  Laura Bennett has spent her life taking care of other people and running the Dip and Twist. Happily spending her time being single and carefree, she has no intention of settling down or falling in love. With an ever-growing family, she’s a mother to them all, and she loves every minute of it. But her baby is getting married, and her oldest has her own life changes she’s dealing with. Suddenly, being all alone doesn’t sound so appealing anymore.

  Dean Campbell has been the black sheep of his family since the day he was born. The only one he cares about is his nephew, Palmer. Deciding at the last minute to attend Palmer’s nuptials, Dean knows he’s going to need to try his hardest not to be his usual, grouchy self. He doesn’t like people, and he really doesn’t like weddings. But the sexy and sassy mother-of-the-bride has him wanting to check Plus-One on his invite. He’s never had more fun getting under someone’s skin, and it doesn’t take long for all the people, noise, and chaos that surround Laura Bennett to become a few of his favorite things.

  Laura thinks a fun wedding fling is just what the doctor ordered to get her out of this funk. But Dean’s been sprinkled with Shepherd’s glitter and the magic of Summersweet Island. He’ll do whatever it takes to convince her that, with this fling, she just might change her mind about falling in love again.

  Chapter 1

  Laura

  “We all have issues.”

  “Put those Reese’s Pieces down right now.”

  Big, sad blue eyes meet mine from across the room when I use my mom voice as I walk back inside the Dip and Twist after taking a few trash bags outside to the dumpster.

  “I thought you were better than this, Laura.” Bodhi Armbruster-Powell shakes his head at me. His shaggy, surfer-blonde hair falls down into his eyes as he slides the plastic container of peanut butter candies back inside the cubby in the counter next to the rest of the ice cream toppings.

  I’ve had a soft spot for my bonus daughter Tess Powell’s husband ever since the first day I met him. This thirty-four-year-old man-child who looks like Spicoli from Fast Times at Ridgemont High has the quiet wisdom of Buddha, the weed addiction of Cheech and Chong, and the biggest heart I have ever seen. And the biggest sugar addiction known to man.

  “Don’t give me that look,” I scold him, walking over to a lower cupboard right by Bodhi’s legs. Grabbing the super-sized bag of Reese’s Pieces that hasn’t been opened yet off the bottom shelf, I drop it down on the counter in front of him. “You know you can’t eat out of the toppings containers. It’s unsanitary, and I taught you better than that. Your snacks are always in the cupboard under the counter.”

  Bodhi swipes away an imaginary tear from his cheek with a sniffle, making me laugh in spite of his toddler-like behavior. Ripping open the orange bag, he shoves a large handful of candy into his mouth.

  “You’re the best mom ever.” He talks around his mouthful of candy with a blissful smile.

  My heart fills with so much joy it feels like it might burst. I always wanted a big family, and I dreamt of having at least four children when I was younger. As an only child to older parents who never thought they could have kids of their own—until I came along as a surprise when they were almost fifty—I grew up with a lot of quiet, hanging out with a lot of boring adults. I had to entertain myself and played alone. I didn’t get to experience the craziness of a big family until I went to school, made friends, and had sleepovers at other people’s houses. I wanted what they had. I wanted noise and laughter, messes and chaos. A house filled with people, but most of all, a house filled with love.

  I was only blessed with two biological daughters, but through my girls, Wren and Birdie, I gained two bonus daughters in their best friends, Emily and Tess. And now that they have all found love, I have the big family I’ve always wanted. I have eight kids, one grandson, and another bonus grandchild on the way, thanks to Tess and Bodhi. I have a life filled with people, noise, laughter, messes, and chaos. They aren’t all mine by blood, but I love them like they are. I couldn’t be happier with the way my life has turned out.

  Yep, sure… keep telling yourself that, Laura.

  “Tess is going to murder you, Mom.”

  Thankfully, Wren’s voice cuts off the annoying one in my head. I watch my oldest daughter fill an ice cream cone with chocolate and vanilla swirl soft serve and hand it to a customer through the window before she continues.

  “You know Bodhi isn’t allowed to have sugar. It makes him crazy.”

  “What kind of mother would I be if I listened to all the rules my children give me? A boring one, that’s what,” I tell her. “Your son is sixteen-years-old. He still has his own candy drawer in my kitchen, and he turned out just fine. Bodhi will too when he grows up, won’t he?”

  Bodhi nods enthusiastically when I look at him, giving me a thumbs-up as he chews. His cheeks are so packed with candy he looks like a squirrel getting ready for winter.

  “Speaking of growing up…” My daughter trails off casually as she looks at Bodhi while we have a break in customers for the first time on this beautiful summer evening. “Why are you here at the Dip and Twist, inhaling sundae toppings, instead of at home with Tess?”

  “She’s seven months pregnant,” Bodhi states.

  “And?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that needed more of an explanation. Remember last month when we were all having dinner for Shepherd’s birthday, and Tess t
hreatened to slit someone’s throat if they ate the last piece of chicken? And then you said, ‘Jesus, she’s only going to get worse. Next month will be fun.’,” Bodhi says, mimicking Wren’s voice. “Ding-dong, next month is here! And it’s fucking worse and not fun!”

  With a sigh, I walk over to Bodhi and give him a reassuring hug. Pulling back, I pat his cheek twice and smile at him.

  “Suck it up and go home to your wife. She has a right to be scary. She’s growing an entire human being from scratch inside her body, and she has to lug around thirty extra pounds of weight every day. Her bones hurt, her brain hurts, and her hormones are out of control. Take whatever shit she gives you with a smile on your face. And do not walk in that door without some sort of delicious, ooey-gooey food in your hand. I would suggest loaded cheese fries from Dockside Eddy’s with three extra sides of ranch dressing.”

  When I finish, I point to the back door of the stand. Bodhi immediately tosses the bag of Reese’s Pieces on the counter, gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, and then races out of the Dip and Twist—to hopefully take my advice and save his own life. I adore our tough girl, Tess, but she really is super scary as a pregnant woman. Bodhi won’t be the only one breathing a little easier once she finally gives birth.

  “Since you’re on a roll with helping people out,” Wren begins when we’re alone, while I seal the bag of candy and put it back under the counter, “you need to have a talk with your annoying daughter.”

  “Aren’t I doing that right now?”

  Wren just glares at me. Both of my girls stopped appreciating my sarcasm right around the time they got their first periods and learned how satisfying it was to slam their bedroom doors in my face. Thank God for Tess, Emily, and all of their men. Since we don’t share the same blood, they appreciate my humor more.

  “Very funny.” Wren scoffs. “You know I’m talking about Bridezilla Birdie. Your youngest spawn, the one whose wedding is a week away and who is driving everyone insane with her constant freak-outs. She woke me up at three o’clock this morning, because she had a dream all her teeth fell out while she was saying her vows. I turned my phone off after she sent me multiple pictures of people with no teeth, and then I woke up to thirty-seven texts from her. Thirty-seven! Each text was a link to a new wedding Pinterest board she created. I can’t handle another week of this, Mother.”

  I know Wren means business when she calls me Mother instead of Mom. And she’s right. Birdie, my sweet, sweet Birdie, has been an absolute nightmare the last few weeks now that the official countdown is on for her wedding and since out-of-town guests will start arriving on Summersweet Island tomorrow. After spending most of her life in love with her childhood crush and one of her best friends, Palmer Campbell, my girl is finally getting her happily ever after with the professional golfer, who has made all her dreams come true since he came back to the island and into her life.

  As a professional athlete, Palmer definitely has the bigger guest list and the more impressive one. There will be a bunch of other professional athletes here on the island for the wedding, a few ESPN reporters who will be here as friends instead of in a professional capacity, Curtis Rockwell, one of my favorite celebrity chefs from the show Chef to Go on the Adventure Channel, three Hollywood actors, as well as the small team of people who work for Palmer. It’s all very exciting, and I fully understand Birdie’s need to panic, even though she has absolutely nothing to worry about.

  Palmer’s family is sadly not a part of his life and won’t be attending the wedding, because they’re selfish jerks. But thankfully, he has more than enough people who do love and support him, who will be here for their big day. And those people don’t care one bit if every single thing isn’t perfect.

  Regardless, Birdie has still been a little on edge, making sure the wedding guests will enjoy their time here. She put together little welcome baskets for everyone that will be waiting for them in their rooms at the Summersweet Island Hotel when they arrive sporadically over the next week. She set up golf cart rentals for all of them to get around the island, and she organized a bunch of activities leading up to the wedding. All of that on top of the last-minute preparations for the actual wedding. Thankfully, today was her last day working at the golf course for the next few weeks, and she has one less thing to worry about. We’ve all tried to help Birdie as much as possible, but she’s a stubborn one and prefers to handle things on her own.

  She definitely gets that from me.

  “I will stop by Birdie and Palmer’s cottage on my way home from work and kindly tell her to calm the fuck down,” I reassure Wren, always willing to do whatever I can to help my kids when they need it. Even if that means telling one daughter off for the other.

  “Make sure you call first. One or both of them will most likely be naked and trying to make you another grandchild,” she complains with a sigh, grabbing a bag of sugar cones from under the counter and refilling their dispenser on the wall that’s gotten low. “I’ve seen my future brother-in-law’s bare ass running away one too many times at this point. No more unexpected visits, ever.”

  I chuckle and shake my head at my hypocritical daughter.

  “Do you know how many times I’ve walked into this ice cream stand to find you in a compromising position with Shepherd?” I remind her, taking the empty plastic bag from her hand when she’s finished with the cones and walking it over to the garbage can.

  “Right, and you broke one of the shelves in the walk-in freezer when you brought a guy back here after hours,” Wren counters with a snort, grabbing a wet rag from the sink and wiping down the front counter. “We all have issues.”

  Me and my girls are close. Being a young, single mother and having to fill the role of both parents, I have always been open and honest with them about everything, and we have always talked about everything. Some people probably think we overshare with each other, but it’s scary as hell raising not just one but two girls alone. I would much rather they tell me everything than keep me out of their lives and tell me nothing.

  Plus, I’m fifty-four years old, and my girls are in their thirties. I don’t really care what anyone thinks about my relationship with them or how I live my life. I cared in my twenties. I cared in my thirties. I even cared for a little bit in my forties. But now, I’m too busy dealing with hot flashes, suddenly wanting to cry one minute and then flip a table the next, and forgetting what I just walked into the room to grab as soon as I got there. I don’t have time to care if Debbie down at the golf cart gas station doesn’t think my daughter should tell me she’ll be late coming into work because she needs to recover from morning sex with her fiancé.

  Mind your business, Debbie.

  “You also need to tell Birdie if you’re bringing a plus-one to the wedding before her head explodes, thinking the caterer will completely run out of food if she doesn’t tell them about this one single plate,” Wren reminds me, turning away to take a customer’s order who just walked up to the window.

  My skin suddenly gets hot and sticky in the air-conditioned ice cream stand, and I can’t even blame it on a hot flash. This is 100 percent brought on by panic. The same panic I’ve felt every time Birdie has asked me if I’m bringing a guest to her wedding, and the same reason I’ve suddenly got an annoying voice in my head, questioning my happiness.

  “It’s not like you don’t have your choice of men to pick from. And I use the term men loosely, considering the last one still lived at home with his mommy, and instead of kissing you goodnight, he asked if you’d make a video with him for social media.” Wren snorts as she grabs a Styrofoam bowl and starts filling it with ice cream for a hot fudge sundae.

  I grab a towel from the counter next to me and chuck it right at the back of her head. “I’ll have you know his mother was a lovely woman who gave me lots of encouragement when it took me seven tries to get that dance right,” I argue. “And then we realized we went to girl scout camp together on the mainland when we were nine. You know, since we’re the same age and
all, and well… the date pretty much crashed and burned at that point.”

  It’s true; I date a lot. And those dates usually happen with men who are closer to my daughters’ ages than my own. The one benefit of being a young mother is that you’re still young when your kids move out. Like I was really going to just sit around feeling sorry for myself with an empty nest and not go out. I wanted to live my life, do whatever and whoever I wanted, and have all the fun I didn’t get to have when I was younger while I was busy making sure my girls grew up well-rounded human beings and running my own business.

  Giving up on the idea of my own happily ever after when the girls’ dad walked away, I’ve had quite a fine time dating nothing but younger men. I like their energy, and I like that they’re always up for trying new things. They’re scared of commitment, they don’t ask any questions when you want all the lights off before you get naked, and they just want to have fun. And I really like that I can kick them to the curb before anyone develops any feelings or gets attached, then not feel an ounce of guilt over it.

  They’re young. They’ll bounce back quickly. And they still have their whole lives ahead of them to date plenty more women. Women who will always wonder how their man learned to do that thing with his tongue. I really am doing a wonderful service for womankind if you think about it.

  Regardless of what the voice in my head is trying to tell me, I am perfectly happy living my life this way. Or at least I was until it came time to make Birdie’s guest list a few months ago, and I suddenly started questioning all my life choices. The idea of going alone is depressing as hell. But I’m not going to drag a random date to the classy wedding of my second-born at the Summersweet Island Golf Course and have to look at this person I don’t know or care about in wedding album photos for the rest of my life. I do have some standards.

  After all these years of being a strong, single, independent woman who has successfully raised two amazing daughters alone and assisted in raising the equally amazing Emily and Tess, I’m suddenly sad that I don’t have a plus-one. I want to cry at the thought of going to such a momentous occasion for my daughter with no one special to share it with. With no one’s hand to squeeze the first time I see Birdie in her gown with her hair and makeup done and my mother’s veil on her head, giving me the strength not to completely break down in tears. With no one’s arm wrapped securely around me, holding me up when my daughter officially walks away from me and down the aisle for someone else to take care of.