Chapter One

AJ

It’s a Summer sister tradition that on the first Saturday of each month, the six of us get together. We take turns picking the location or activity, anything from margaritas and a movie to wine and painting classes at the small gallery uptown. One thing, though, is as certain as the sun rising over the Chesapeake Bay every morning: there will be alcohol involved.

Always.

It’s what I like to call the last hoorah of summer. The time where nights are warm and the breeze blowing off the Bay feels muggy. And with every tick of the clock, I get closer and closer to returning to the classroom. Not that it’s a bad thing, because I really do love my job, but I’m sure as most teachers will attest, I just wish summer vacation lasted a little bit longer.

When June hits, you’re just so damn excited to finally be out of school that you decide to enjoy a few weeks of sunbathing and relaxing. Then July hits and you start to compile the to-do list of all the things you want to get done on your break. Repaint the cabinets, stain the porch, clean out the yard shed so you can finally find those stupid hedge trimmers that you swear you have.

But then you’re reminded that you’re still on summer break. Why do all of this crap when the temperatures are at their highest and the beach is calling your name?

That’s when August hits, and you’re like, “Holy shit, I didn’t get anything done that I swore I’d complete this year.”

That’s where I’m at.

It’s the first Saturday in August (Sisters’ Night) and I have nothing to show for my vacation except a killer tan and extra copper highlights.

Before I can let the guilt creep in about not getting anything done over my three-month teaching reprieve, I turn my attention to my sisters. We’re all here, beachside as our favorite local band, Crush, plays on the makeshift stage.

Jupiter Bay, home of eight thousand busybodies who know everything about everyone. It’s the place I’ve called home for all twenty-nine years of my life; well, except for when I went to college. But I came back, just like I knew I would.

Nine months out of the year, I’m the eighth grade math teacher at Jupiter Bay Junior High, home of the Hawks! I also tutor before school, and was roped into being the cheer sponsor a few years back. Go team! It hasn’t been easy trying to keep my good girl facet in place, especially when the bad girl in me is begging to take over. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about living in a small town, it’s that the rumors will fly and the stories will be elaborated regardless.

So I let my inner vixen come out and play every once in a while.

Tonight, we’re celebrating two things: the end of summer and the end of Crush. It’s their final performance as a group, and the mood has been a mixture of melancholy and anxiousness. That’s why the alcohol is involved. One of my twin sister’s boyfriend has played lead guitar with this band since they started fresh out of high school.

Let’s talk about my sisters, shall we?

I’m right smack dab in the middle of the six Summer sisters. Yep, all girls.

The oldest is Payton, recently married to Dean McIntire. She owns Blossoms and Blooms uptown, the small floral and gift shop. I’ve helped man the front counter a few times over the years, but my thumb is as brown as they come, so I stay as far away from the flowers and plants as possible. Dean is an accountant and has the cutest little girl from a previous relationship. My niece by marriage, Brielle, is amazing. Even though she’s not Payton’s biological daughter, she is hers in every way that matters. In fact, they go to court next month to finalize the adoption.

Payton and Dean were married last month in Vegas. Basically, they hopped on a plane (that my dad flew), bought some rings, and were married in a chapel on the strip. They were home before they missed dessert. Well, that’s not true, but they give new meaning to the phrase shotgun wedding. It’s all good though, especially in light that it was going to happen anyway.

Next in line is Jaime. She’s married to Ryan Elson, a local contractor. She works for a local not-for-profit called Addie’s Place, where kids can go after school to receive help with school, a snack or meal, and socialize with other kids. I had heard about it through school, but never really knew the ins and outs of the organization until Jaime started working there.

They were married this past April, and while there are no kids on the way yet, I fully expect her to be knocked up sooner rather than later. These two are like rabbits on Viagra and have been busted getting freaky more times than anyone ever should.

I’m next in the order, but we’ll jump over me to Meghan.

Oh, sweet Meghan. It’s been a rough year for the sister who wears her heart on her sleeve. A year ago this past February, her fiancé, Josh, was killed in a car accident. It wrecked her, as well as the rest of our family, who has had to watch her grieve and mourn his loss. She’s doing well, though, all things considered. She works full time at a dental office in town, and has been keeping herself busy crafting everything she can get her hands on. I think it’s her way of just staying active so that her mind doesn’t wander back to a time when everything was right. She’ll get there. I know it.

Rounding out the Summer clan are the twins, Abby and Lexi. Abby is an editor for a big publishing company in New York and works from home. She lives with Levi, the hottie guitarist up on stage, who has been her best friend since, well, forever. I think they were ten when they started their friendship, and even though it remained safely tucked in that platonic, no-sex stage for way too long, they’ve finally figured out they’re better together, having all the sex. Levi is also an EMT and volunteer fireman in town, which just adds serious points to his hotness factor. Well, if I were keeping points.

Finally, there’s Lexi. Mouthy, knocked-up Lexi. We’ll skip over the fact that she was married to douche-y Chris and focus on the fact that she’s now with Linkin. Tall, muscular, gives lap dances as good as they come, Linkin. He’s a mechanic and was living next door to Lexi when she left her ex. Now, they have babies on the way–yes, two–and I’m anxious to be an aunt to babies. Lexi’s a full-time beautician at Hair Haven uptown, or at least she was until a week ago. At not quite seven months, her belly has gotten too big and her feet too swollen to work as many hours as she has been, so she had to cut back to part time. Sitting at home is killing her.

That’s why she’s here now, nursing a bottle of water, and trying to ignore the alpha man hovering in the corner, ready to pounce at her first sign of discomfort.

“That man is driving me crazy,” Lexi mumbles, glancing over her shoulder to where Linkin is standing with Dean and Ryan. “He won’t even let me sit down by myself anymore. It’s like he’s afraid the whale might fall and not be able to get back up,” she adds, making a face that includes sticking out her tongue at the man not too far away.

“Aww, I think it’s sweet,” Jaime coos at the way Linkin dotes on Lexi. “He’s going to be an amazing daddy.”

“I agree. If I ever have a baby, I hope my man is half as attentive as yours,” Abby adds.

“Levi will be a terrific father,” Lexi adds, her eyes tearing up. “Don’t mind me. These stupid hormones have me crying over toilet paper commercials.”

Abby blushes. “Well, I didn’t say anything about Levi, but if that were to happen, I think he’d be a phenomenal father.”

“Definitely. And think of all the sex, Abs. You’d be like Lexi, humping everything like a Chihuahua,” I say before sticking my straw into my mouth.

“Not everything, AJ. Just one specific something.” Lexi gets that ornery smirk on her face and I can tell exactly what that something is, and it’s attached midsection to the man standing not fifteen feet away.

“Are we going to start talking about sex now? I feel like I need another drink for this,” I say, turning and looking for my cooler.

“What’s the matter? You no longer a fan of the sex?” Payton asks, calling it the sex the way our grandma always does.

“Oh, I’m a huge fan of it. Just wish I could find some worth talking about,” I grumble as I mix the pineapple juice in with Malibu Rum.

“Well, don’t look now, but I think Dexter is making faces at you,” Meghan says, trying not to giggle.

When I glance up, the drummer wiggles his tongue suggestively and throws me a dirty grin. My stomach actually clenches and the contents consider making a reappearance. “Gross.”

“What, not interested in another ride on the Dexter pogo stick?” Payton laughs.

“Maybe you should. I bet you could get a good two or three minute power nap in again this time,” Lexi adds, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

“Ha ha,” I grumble, trying to push that horrible night out of my mind. It was last year when I finally decided to give in to his constant advances. Little did I know that he’d be maxed out at two minutes of grunting and pounding before finding his own release. It was so bad, I dozed off there about halfway through. Shit, even trying to pretend he was Chris Hemsworth didn’t do anything but ensure I had to rename my vibrator to Channing Tatum when I bought him. Chris was so out after that.

“Wait, what happened to that guy you left with last month?” Abby asks.

Oh. Him.

The night is a bit foggy, but I could never forget him.

Sawyer.

“Oh, you know, just another guy in town for the summer,” I say blasé, trying to look for a quick subject change. “So are you ready for the shower next month?” I ask my youngest, most pregnantest sister.

Lexi’s eyebrows shoot into her hair, but she doesn’t call me on the blatant subject change. Thank God. “I’m ready. Linkin has been so amazing, getting everything set up and ready.”

“Did you really make him paint the room three times?” Meghan asks.

“It’s not my fault that the first two shades of yellow looked like smashed bananas and pee,” Lexi defends.

“I heard he didn’t complain once when she changed the color three times,” Jaime says with a smile.

“He didn’t,” Lexi says, a soft blush staining her cheeks.

“Looks like someone’s getting road-head tonight,” Payton chides, grinning like a fool.

“Can’t,” Lexi pouts. “There’s no more car sex until after the babies. I can’t bend over the console.”

They keep debating the pros and cons of car sex, but my mind wanders elsewhere. To that night.

The truth is I could never call Sawyer a summer fling. First off, you’d have to have sex to constitute a fling, right? And, well, I’m just not ready to spill the details of that fateful night, one month ago, to my sisters. It’s too embarrassing.

When I close my eyes, I can still picture his ocean blue eyes and feel the way his brown hair slid through my fingers. I followed him from the bar, eager to spend a little naked alone time with him. When we stepped onto the sidewalk, his fingers were warm and slightly rough as they wrapped around mine. He pulled me gently toward a car, a nice one that said rich trust fund. Inside, I melted against the butter-soft seats, high on hormones and anticipation.

We didn’t speak as he drove down the beach to a nice hotel. The nicest hotel in town. He hopped out of the car and came around to my side, extending his hand to help me out of the car in a total gentlemanly move I hadn’t seen in a long time. My head was swimming and my stomach churning, but I kept praying it was because of the man beside me.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

I remember everything about the kiss. It started sweet and soft, even as electricity started to course through my blood. His hands, my God those hands, swept up my jaw, caressing my skin before making their way into my hair. I’ve never wanted someone to pull my hair as badly as I wanted him to.

The kiss quickly turned ravenous. It was wild and electric and everything a kiss should be. His tongue stroked mine, probing into my mouth with so much expertise and efficiency that my knees started to get weak. My back pressed firmly into the side of the car. His powerful thighs framed my legs, keeping me from melting into a pile of hormonal mush at his feet. He was tall–so freaking tall–towering over me like a possessive giant.

And my Lord, that hard-on. It was long and hard and pressed into my stomach, ensuring that I’d remember the way it felt against me for years to come. Hell, probably even a lifetime. It was that memorable of a cock.

My hands gripped at his shirt. I was afraid of breaking the connection or that he’d disappear altogether, leaving me alone to wallow in my loneliness and self-pity. But he didn’t. He was there, holding me tight and kissing me like I was the very oxygen he needed to breathe.

“Will you come up to my room?” he asked, his hands still threaded into my hair.

“Yes.” It was the only answer I could give. I was drowning in his blue eyes, captivated by his being. I needed more.

Unfortunately, that’s when my current state of drunkenness reared its ugly head. My stomach pitched like I was lost at sea on a dingy and I started to sweat. How much had I had to drink? Too much. The answer was entirely too much.

“You okay?” he asked, taking in my chalky green complexion and stomach-clenching tremors.

I knew what was about to happen, and apparently so did he.

Sawyer spun around, pulling me to the bushes just as my stomach decided to unleash hours’ worth of alcohol and food. If I wasn’t too busy puking my guts up all over the sidewalk and the evergreens, I’d be completely mortified. Instead, I spilled everything I ate and drank that day, while the man held my hair and whispered sweet words in my ear. Of course, it wasn’t what I had hoped he’d be whispering. You know, “Fuck, you feel so good” or “I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t remember your name.”

Instead, I was hearing, “Shhhh, sweetheart, it’s okay,” while he rubbed circles on my heaving back.

When I was finally done retching, he picked up my boneless body and carried me off as if I weighed nothing. I remember hearing the elevator ding. I remember feeling him juggle my body as he unlocked his room. I remember the feel of soft sheets against my clammy skin.

But I couldn’t open my eyes.

The last thing I remember before I slipped into unconsciousness was a cool rag placed on my forehead and the feel of his fingers against my cheek as he moved my hair. In the morning, I woke up alone. He was gone, and if it weren’t for the fancy hotel room, I’d think he was a figment of my imagination.

But he wasn’t.

I know it.

Now, here I am, surrounded by my family, having a great time as we celebrate our last sisters’ night before school starts up again in a few weeks, and I’m lost in the memories of blue eyes and fantastic kisses. They haunt me in my sleep almost nightly, ensuring that I wake horny and yearning for more.

But more will never happen.

He was gone when I woke up and left no further way to make contact. I mean, would you leave your name and number for the woman who puked all over the sidewalk outside your hotel?

So now I’m left with those pesky memories that won’t go away and an overactive imagination of what could have been if not for the pukepocalypse. I guess that just proves that I’m destined to be alone. I’m always going to kiss frogs who don’t turn into princes. I’m never going to find my person the way Payton, Jaime, Abby, and Lexi have.

And that’s okay.

I don’t need a man.

I don’t need a relationship.

Relationships are nothing but hurt and pain.

I’m fine on my own.

I got this.