SUMMER CAMP SECRET

  SUMMER FLING

  BOOK 2

  KAIT NOLAN

  TAKE THE LEAP PUBLISHING

  Copyright © 2024 by Kait Nolan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  CONTENTS

  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

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek The Summer Camp Swap

  Other Books By Kait Nolan

  About Kait

  1

  Why didn’t I go with the sticky boobs?

  Aspen Fairchild shifted in her seat, trying desperately to get some relief from the strapless bra that had gone rogue and apparently popped an underwire. Said wire was currently poking the underside of her left breast as if it intended to hold her hostage until the end of the wedding ceremony. She didn’t dare try to adjust anything. Not while the photographer was snapping away, capturing the processional only a few feet from her position on the front row. So, she pasted on a smile she hoped didn’t look like a grimace and tried desperately to focus on the happy occasion.

  And it was a happy occasion.

  A dozen feet away, beneath a simple, white wooden archway festooned with chiffon and accented with clusters of flowers, strands of pearls and crystals that shimmered in the fading sunlight, stood her father, Walter, waiting for his bride. As Tricia reached the head of the simple driftwood aisle and took his hand, he beamed bright enough to rival the setting sun. The nerves and the joy made him look at least ten years younger than his fifty-one years. Aspen hadn’t known he could still be that kind of happy. She sure as hell hadn’t seen him look like this since before they’d lost her mother to an aggressive form of breast cancer ten years before.

  There’d been such a fast turnaround from her mom’s diagnosis, to being told it was terminal, to having to say goodbye. There’d been no long, lingering sickness. No wasting away. No chance to adjust. It had been fast and brutal. Mere weeks. Then she’d been gone. Gillian’s death had absolutely leveled them both. Aspen and her father had spent the past decade propping each other up because life hadn’t turned out the way they’d expected, and neither of them quite knew what to do in a world without her mother.

  Then he’d met Tricia Rogers, a divorced mom of two who’d been cautiously getting back out there after her youngest had flown the nest for college. Given the distance between Cooper’s Bend, in the mountains of north Georgia, and Savannah, where Tricia lived, Aspen had been skeptical. But they’d made it work, and here they were, eighteen months later, tying the knot in a beachside ceremony on Tybee Island in front of family and friends.

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

  As the vows began, Aspen was painfully aware of how empty the groom’s side was. A handful of her father’s friends had made the trek from home, but she was the only blood family he had left. Tricia’s side was bursting with people. Her two kids, her mother, some siblings, cousins, and a multitude of friends that proved how integrated she was into her community. The disparity made it crystal clear how little was holding her father in Cooper’s Bend. They hadn’t discussed where he and Tricia would be living. Aspen hadn’t been able to bring herself to ask, because neither alternative was comfortable. Either he sold the house and moved down to Savannah with his new wife, far away from Aspen, or he moved Tricia into the home he’d shared with Gillian and inevitably changed the rooms that had become calcified with memory. Both options hurt. But Aspen wouldn’t say a word to dim this hard-won happiness for her father. He deserved this second chance at love, no matter what it meant for her.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!”

  Walter bent Tricia back in a dip made all the more dramatic against the magnificent sunset sky. Aspen led the cheers and applause, even as the bra continued to molest her. First chance she got, she was slipping away to a bathroom to deal with the thing. Even if that meant stripping it off and shoving it into the trash. It had been a hot day that was leading into what would certainly be a warm night. Maybe no one would notice her girls gone wild in the halter dress.

  But the opportunity kept eluding her. In the wake of the ceremony, she got pulled in for family photos with the happy couple. Guests swarmed for more photos before the light faded. Aspen thought for sure she’d have a chance to get away as they all walked en masse through the sun-warmed sand up the beach to the resort where the reception was being held. But the wedding planner snagged her to ask a question about the cake cutting. Then Heidi and Everett, her brand new step-siblings, insisted she needed to contribute to the playlist for the reception. And somehow, she found herself seated for the meal without ever being able to get a moment alone.

  As the food was served, she crossed her arms and tried to surreptitiously readjust things. That only forced the bra into escape mode, inching down her torso. The whole thing made her think of her mom, who used to say, “Strapless bras are like very rude and forward men. They start at the top and quickly work their way down.”

  The memory made her want to snicker, as she had during the prom dress shopping trip when Gillian had shared that little gem.

  Definitely should’ve gone with the sticky boobs. Though Aspen hadn’t been sure that they’d stay stuck, given the humidity of south Georgia in July.

  By the time they’d made it through the meal and into the speeches, the recalcitrant bra was barely covering her nipples. On the plus side, the tender spot that had been abused for the past couple of hours was getting a bit of a break. As soon as the attention was off the head table, she was saying to hell with it and dashing for the bathroom.

  From his place at the center of the long table, her father rose and took the microphone. He looked so dashing in his tuxedo, his salt and pepper hair ruffled by the ocean breeze.

  “My dear friends and family, I can’t tell you how overjoyed I am that all of you could join us tonight to celebrate with Tricia and me here on beautiful Tybee Island. This is a second chance at love that neither of us expected, and we’re so excited to start our new life together as husband and wife.”

  Despite the pang in her chest, Aspen clapped along with the rest of the guests as he lifted Tricia’s hand to his lips.

  “To that end, some of you may be surprised to learn that I’ll be moving to Savannah to join Tricia.”

  Aspen’s breath wooshed out as if he’d sucker punched her. That was it then. The answer she’d been afraid he’d choose. Two more goodbyes she wasn’t prepared to make.

  “But Cooper’s Bend will always hold such special memories for me. It was where I raised my beautiful daughter, Aspen. As such, while I start this new chapter, I can’t imagine a better person to inherit the house there than her.”

  Wait. What?

  Walter turned to face her, the green eyes he’d passed onto her shining with emotion. “Which is why it brings me so much pride to announce that I’m passing the house onto you, for you to make your own memories there, and maybe raise a family of your own someday. Aspen, sweetheart, you are the light of my life, and I know you’ll fill that house with joy and laughter for years to come.”

  “Dad…” Aspen could barely get the words out past the lump in her throat. Relief made her limbs shake as she pushed herself up from the chair and moved to hug him.

  His arms closed around her, warm and firm. An anchor when she needed one the most. “It wouldn’t have been right for it to go to anyone but you.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice came out barely above a whisper, and she was deathly afraid her waterproof mascara was about to be put to the test.

  They stood in a swaying hug for a long minute, lost in their private bittersweet moment. Then the DJ started up music and called for the first dance.

  Walter stepped back. “You gonna dance with your old man after this?”

  Aspen sniffed back the tears that wanted to fall. “Absolutely. Go on. Tricia’s waiting.”

  He bussed her cheek, then took his wife’s hand and led her onto the dance floor.

  Aspen couldn’t wait any longer. She made a break for it, weaving her way through the tables and inside the resort to the bathroom. Bypassing the little seating area for women to take a few minutes to rest, she locked herself into a stall. For a long moment, she stood, hands braced against the door as she wrestled with emotion.

  He was giving her the house. It was an amazing gift on so many fronts. He was moving, but he wasn’t taking the last of her mother away from her. Letting her make the choice about what and how to change things. Knowing she needed that connection for a while longer. Beyond all that, the house was paid for, free and clear. Being able to move back in and avoid the burden of rent would give her the financial freedom to do… well, she didn’t know what, because she hadn’t ever had that kind of flexibility. Maybe she’d finally think about stretching the

wings that had been clipped by her mother’s death.

  And that’s all stuff to think about later. Right now, it’s time to burn this bra.

  Reaching back, she released the clasp and wiggled the offending lingerie out of her dress. The moment her breasts were free, she heaved a sigh of relief. God, that felt good. Bras had to have been a torture device invented by men. She examined the edge and found that not only had the underwire poked through, it had straight up broken in two.

  “Free nippies, it is.” She slid a hand into the bodice of her dress and massaged the abused boob, hoping to relieve some of the ache. The tissue on the underside was swollen and irritated.

  Damned bastard bra.

  Except… no, this wasn’t just an irritated spot. She dropped the bra to the floor and used both hands to palpitate the flesh. There was a decided lump deep in the tissue of her breast.

  Terror struck like a viper, stealing the strength from her legs.

  She had a lump in her breast.

  Just like her mother.

  She pressed a hand to her mouth to hold back the scream welling up in her chest.

  No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening.

  They’d found Gillian’s lump when she was forty.

  Aspen was only twenty-eight.

  The exterior door opened, and female laughter floated inside as other guests came in to check their makeup or use the facilities. The sound jolted her back to herself.

  This was her father’s wedding. He was out there, waiting to dance with her. To celebrate his new beginning. She wasn’t about to say or do anything that would ruin his day. Not now. Not until she saw a doctor and had a diagnosis confirmed. There was absolutely nothing she could do about this before Monday morning.

  Aspen took another few minutes to get herself under control. Then she trashed the bra and strode back out to the party to dance with her father, in case it was the last time she ever had a chance to do it.

  From somewhere beneath the depths of the covers, Brooks Hennessy registered the pounding on his door. He was done dealing with all the things. The funeral had been endured. Condolences had been accepted. Casseroles had been frozen. All the aftermath crap had been dealt with. It was the off-season. He had no further professional obligations. The death certificate had arrived yesterday. He had every right to hole up in his house for another two months, until time for pre-season training.

  The pounding came again, louder this time.

  Brooks tugged the comforter up over his head. If he didn’t respond, they would go away.

  Even as the thought crossed his mind, he heard the sound of the door opening.

  Dammit, he should never have given them spare keys to his place.

  The murmur of low voices sounded as they moved through the house. He knew what they’d see. A riot of empty takeout containers and beer bottles, endless stacks of dirty dishes, and mountains of unopened mail. He hadn’t been planning on company. If they had a problem with it, they could kiss his ass.

  “Shit, dude.” The shock in Colter Coughlin’s tone had Brooks hunching his shoulders.

  “Go away.”

  Grady Prichard, the third member of their trio, slapped a hand on Brooks’s leg on top of the blanket. “Can’t do that, man. We’re here to make sure that you’re doing the bare minimum to take care of yourself.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Brooks wasn’t even in the same country as fine, but he wasn’t about to admit that.

  “Somehow, we don’t believe you.”

  Brooks sensed them on either side of the foot of the bed seconds before the duvet was yanked off him. He sat up, glaring. “You’re lucky I wasn’t naked under here.”

  Grady rolled his eyes. “Nothing we haven’t seen before in the locker room.”

  “Speaking of which, you need to go shower.”

  Brooks transferred his scowl to Colter. “Go away.”

  His buddy didn’t blink. “Not gonna happen. At least, not until you’ve showered, and we’ve seen you eat something.”

  Knowing them well enough to ascertain the truth of this statement, Brooks swung his legs out of the bed and sat up. His whole body hurt. He hadn’t been keeping up with the workouts that maintained his physique as a pro athlete. Not even the low-level ones that were his habit during the off season. What was the point? He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to go back. So he felt about a hundred years old as he stood and moved toward his friends. Grady made a Vanna White gesture toward the open bathroom door. “Please enjoy. We’ll help take care of the rest.”

  “Leave it,” Brooks growled.

  Colter slapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Just go shower, man. It’ll make you feel a little more human.”

  Not having the energy to argue, Brooks stumbled into the bathroom to do as they ordered. As he stripped out of his T-shirt and basketball shorts, he had to admit he did smell like something that had been left to molder in the back of his locker over the course of a full season. Kind of like the lucky socks he’d worn during his AHL career before moving up to the pros. He stepped under the spray and let it beat down on his head and shoulders, loosening up muscles gone stiff with inactivity. He stayed in the bathroom longer than necessary, with a vague hope that his friends would have disappeared by the time he came out.

  No such luck. When he stepped into his living room, dressed in clean sweatpants and a T-shirt, they’d done their best impression of Merry Maids. All the takeout containers and empty beer bottles had been cleared away. The low rumble of the dishwasher told him they’d dealt with the dishes as well.

  Colter eyed him from head to toe. “Well now, you look a little bit more like someone who’s part of the land of the living.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, Colter winced. “Sorry. But do you feel better?”

  “Set the bar lower, man.” Brooks’s gaze slid to the counter, where he spied a large pizza box. “Is that pizza from Tremoni’s?” He didn’t want to be interested, but the scent of tomatoes and garlic and grease had his stomach growling.

  When was the last time he’d eaten?

  “An extra-large pie, just for you.” Grady nudged over a plate. “Eat.”

  Brooks recognized an order when he heard one, but he didn’t have enough energy to ignore it in the name of being contrary. He opened the box and lifted out a slice covered in pepperoni, peppers, onions, and mushrooms. This would be the closest he’d come to a vegetable in at least a week. He bit in, closing his eyes as the spicy sauce and melted cheese hit his tongue.

  “He is responding to normal stimuli. This is improvement,” Colter declared.

  Brooks just fixed a flat gaze on his friend. He finished the first slice of pizza, washing it down with filtered water from the fridge. The food did help a little. “Thanks.”

  As he reached for another slice, his friends exchanged a look. “Do I look that bad?”

  This time it was Grady who grabbed his shoulder. “You really don’t want us to answer that. But you do look better since the shower. Even if your beard is making you look like a homeless Viking.”

  Fresh irritation prickled. “You’ve done your wellness check, seen that I’ve showered and eaten. You’re free to go anytime.”

  “That’s not what friends do, Hennessy. We want to be here for you.”

  Colter nodded. “Yeah, you’ve done the hermit routine long enough. It’s time you start getting out in the world again.”

  “If either of you think that I have any intention of going down to Denver in search of a puck bunny at one of our usual haunts, you are sorely mistaken.” The last thing Brooks wanted to do was go out in public and risk being recognized. He was the reason his team had been kicked out of the playoffs. It was possible that the commentators had moved on to something else by now, but he had no interest in putting that theory to the test.

  Colter looked to Grady. The Canadian had no poker-face to speak of, and Brooks could easily see the concern underlying his attempt at discretion.

 

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