With This Fling (Summersweet Island 5)

I’m laughing to myself even while my heart starts pounding and my hands shake as I take the lid off the Tupperware container. The smell of tomatoes, garlic, and cheese immediately assaults me, making my stomach growl and my mouth water. The foil has four pieces of garlic bread in it to go with the homemade lasagna, and I know damn well she probably made that from scratch as well. She even included napkins and plasticware.

As I wait for the food to heat up in the small microwave on the counter, I rub away that stupid fucking achy feeling in my chest with my fist and just concentrate on picturing Laura naked.

This is just about sex. That’s it.

Chapter 7

Dean

“Shut up and pass me the goddamn glitter.”

I. Am. Fucked.

There are a million things that should be on my mind right now. Like the fact that I forgot to buy Palmer and Birdie a wedding gift before I rushed out of town to get here in time after I had a last-minute work trip cancellation. The five custom club orders I’m going to be even more behind on finishing because of this vacation. The measurements I need to get from Palmer while I’m here so I can get started on the new putter he wants for an upcoming tournament in Scotland. Along with a shit-ton of other things I can’t even remember right now, because my brain is filled with nothing but Laura and the dinner she brought me last night.

All of the shit she had to do yesterday, on top of working at the ice cream stand and worrying about her daughter’s upcoming wedding, and she took time out of her busy day to make me dinner and drop it off at the hotel. All because I happened to mention I’d never had a home-cooked meal. My ex-wife was a spoiled fucking princess who never lifted a finger inside the house. Or outside of it for that matter. She never worked a day in her life, and certainly never made a meal for me, or did anything at all for me while she was home all day and I was out busting my ass at work. We either ate takeout every night that I’d order on my way home, or I threw together one of the handful of dishes I could make, which she would bitch about the entire time she ate it.

Suddenly, some woman I barely know is making me lasagna, doing something sweet for me, taking care of me at the same time she’s insulting me, and I’m questioning all of my life choices, regretting every single one I’ve made up until this point. Coming to this island is either the best decision I’ve ever made, or the worst. The jury is still out.

“Awww, man, you didn’t fold it right,” Palmer complains, his voice breaking me out of my thoughts long enough to watch him snatch the piece of paper out of my hand I’ve just been sitting here holding while I stared off into space.

On top of everything else I should be focusing on, I should also be paying attention to whatever the hell I’m supposed to be helping Palmer with right now, but I’m finding it physically impossible.

No one ever surprises me. I know exactly who they are, and I can see their intentions a mile away. But this woman? Jesus Christ, she keeps me on my toes, and I just met her, even though I feel like I’ve known her forever. And now all I can think about is spending as much time with her as possible, annoying her as much as I can, and getting to know everything about that crazy, maddening, sweet-as-hell woman until I’ve inserted myself so much into her life that she has no choice but to let me in.

“What’s wrong with your face?”

My eyes blink back into focus, and I stare across the table at Bodhi, who’s currently looking at me like I have two heads.

“Nothing’s wrong with my face. But I can make something wrong with yours,” I mutter in annoyance as Shepherd comes over to the table and sets down three more containers of glitter.

“There he is! Welcome back, Uncle Dean,” Palmer cheers, patting me on the back with one hand as he reaches for one of the containers with his other hand. “We were getting a little worried. You were just sitting here… smiling.”

“It was scary,” Bodhi whispers. “Much scarier than the thought of you punching me in the face. Although that would suck too.”

“What the fuck are we even doing here?” I complain, taking the focus off of me for a minute as I look around the table at all the crafting supplies. “You said the guys were getting together to do some last-minute wedding stuff after breakfast and wanted my help. I thought it would involve bachelor party planning, not… whatever the fuck this is.”

I wave my hand over the glitter, glue, and pieces of paper in every color strewn across the table in Shepherd and Wren’s basement craft room, wishing I was alone in my hotel room so I could think about the way Laura’s soft skin smells like vanilla and jerk off in peace…

Or think about her laugh, or her smile, or how thoughtful she is even when she’s trying to hate me, or how much I want to help make her life easier.

Yep. I’m definitely fucked.

“We’re putting together the wedding programs and reception favors. Only the most important items needed for a successful wedding.” Shepherd sighs with a frustrated roll of his eyes as he pulls out a chair at the table and sits down. “My God, man, pull your head out of your ass and start taking some pride in your work. These hearts you cut out are atrocious.”

Palmer has mentioned on more than one occasion that Summersweet Island is a magical place. He was definitely lying. It’s cursed and filled with some sort of voodoo, making me do shit I wouldn’t normally do and feel shit I wouldn’t normally feel, surrounded by grown-ass men who like to play with glitter.

“Once more for the people in the back—What the fuck?” I mutter, looking around the table at my nephew and his friends.

I didn’t really need to be introduced to them when I got to the welcome dinner the other night. As a huge sports fan, of course I knew who they were. Shepherd Oliver was one of the top five center fielders in the major leagues before he blew out his knee and retired to coach here on the island. And Quinn Bagley is currently a star quarterback for the Virginia Beach Sharks. And they’re happily crafting on a Sunday morning… with smiles on their faces.

“I think Uncle Dean is confused, because we’ve all been Summersweetened,” Bodhi states, abandoning the heart he was just putting glitter on to dig his hand into a giant bag of Skittles sitting on the table in front of him.

“Ahhh, yeah, it can be a little jarring at first.” Shepherd nods as he sets his glue stick down. “But you get used to it. The sex is totally worth it.”

“Amen, brother!” Palmer, Bodhi, and Quinn all cheer at the same time before half of them drop their heads and go back to their crafting.

“What the fuck are you even going on about?” I question, huffing in annoyance at myself as I pick up a pair of scissors and take my time cutting out another stupid fucking heart from the red construction paper, so I don’t get yelled at again.