Summer Rebound (Dating Season Book 2)

by Laurelin Paige

  “Yeah. It would have been better not to have Lucy and Austin tearing down the house. It feels cheapened, somehow.”

  “Well, I think this is the best thing. You’re getting over Austin by making certain he knows about you and Dune.”

  “That’s not...you’re reading this wrong.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m basically never wrong,” she teases, “and I’m the person who knows you guys both best.”

  “You are wrong about this.“ I extricate my grandmother’s locket from Carl’s mouth.

  “Seriously, it’s a great thing you’re accepting that he’s with Lucy by listening in on their lovemaking.”

  “You are wrong that I have accepted Lucy, and you are most of all wrong that what they were doing was lovemaking, given the snatches of dirty talk I heard.”

  “You just said snatch. You are getting braver.”

  “Oh, I’m definitely getting braver. I did my own dirty talk.”

  “You’re really coming out of your shell, my sweet little turtle. Wonder if they heard you?”

  That possibility is mortifying. As far as I know, they don’t even know Dune was in my room. “There’s no way they heard my spreadsheet stuff over Lucy’s screams.”

  “Did you just say spreadsheet?”

  “He wanted me to dirty talk and I couldn’t think of anything. And he’s obsessed with numbers, so I went with it.”

  Charlotte laughs so hard her goat tumbles off her butt. “You can still make love while saying dirty cock-type things. Haven’t you ever read a romance book?”

  “I read biographies and history books, you know this.”

  “I learned everything interesting I know from romance books,” she says. “Try one for ideas.”

  I cover Carl’s innocent goat ears and make a mental note to download some romance books.

  My next session with Dune has a lot to make up for, particularly in the lingerie department.

  Caleb’s orbs of fire lasered in on my bare pussy as I spread the drenched lips. “You want to taste my sweetness?”

  “Not just taste. I’m gonna claim that pussy, and you’re going to beg me to fuck you.”

  “Why is your mouth hanging open?” Austin asks. “Still reading dirty books?”

  I nod, finishing my paragraph. I’ve binged an entire MC series over the last week, and even if I’m unsure what to make of the motorcycle club lifestyle as written, I’m hooked. Dune is the epitome of the elusive men written in these pages, and it’s thrilling: I’ve found my very own alpha. “Romance writers must live and breathe sex.”

  “It’s a fantasy no man will ever live up to,” Austin says, Swiffering the hardwoods. “Do the guys in your books ever mop or sweep?”

  “No, they’re busy capturing the moon for the love of their life.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Would you rather have the moon or a clean house?”

  “Why can’t I have both? That’s not unreasonable.”

  “Again, it’s a fantasy no man can live up to.”

  That is entirely debatable. However, no man may live up to Dune’s three minutes. But it’s seeming like I won’t have another go. Between accounting and his biker obligations, there’s been no romance time. Is he bored with me already? He seemed to love the likeness of his dick I made on my pottery wheel. That’s definitely not boring.

  After reading these books, I’m convinced he’s hiding something, though. No proof exists to bolster my theory, except Austin’s endless insinuations about why I’ve not been to his place.

  Alternative plan, ditch the internet advice and emulate a romance heroine. I’ll need a troubled past, and I don’t really have one. If I squint my eyes while I look back at my childhood, maybe my mom flitting around the globe as an archaeologist could be viewed as sad? Hm. Is that why I’m meeting men on a site that gives me rocks?

  Surely, there’s something traumatic hiding within me. Even though my parents divorced, it didn’t affect my mental outlook on life. Should the fact Granny Mae was my surrogate while mom and dad pursued their careers bother me? It’s possible I have subconscious daddy issues? Am I not broken enough and therefore my alpha male doesn’t want to put me back together?

  “What do you have for me today?” Austin asks, now Swiffering his way to the kitchen.

  It’s been hard to look him in the eyes since the fuck fiasco almost three weeks ago, but today I do, because this is a perfect opportunity to test my new theory. “A girl left by her father.”

  He stops in his tracks. “Come again?”

  Ah-ha. He’s intrigued. Yes, that’s the aim.

  I bite my lip the way Ava did in Motorcycle Mayhem and wait a dramatic beat before answering in a low voice, “My dad wasn’t around much.”

  “Isn’t he a trucker?”

  “Yes.” To this day, when he’s in town, I still enjoy going for a ride in his big rig, but that’s not the point. The point is, Austin moves closer to my perceived brokenness. Interesting.

  Do men have an innate urge to fix things like women?

  He crouches in front of me. “It’s only an issue if you make it one.”

  I recite a line from the book, “A good man will never want these jagged pieces. They’ll only make him bleed out until he’s dead.” And wow, the force of Austin’s reaction blows me to smithereens.

  He cups my face in his warm hands. “Stop it, right now,” he says. “Is this about Duke?”

  “Dune,” I correct.

  “If he doesn’t think you’re good enough, that’s his issue. Not yours.” He stands. “Honestly, you can do better than—”

  “Thank you.” I decide to end this charade because now guilt is creeping in that I used him as an experiment. “I’m cured. I guess I just got wrapped up in my book.”

  The unexpected roar of a motorcycle saves me from the awkward situation I created.

  “Damn, that bike is loud,” Austin says. “You have a date?”

  “No,” I say, rushing to the door.

  Against a spectacular sunset of tangerine, Dune removes his helmet as his muscular thighs straddle the machine between his legs. As I drink in how cool he is, Lucy’s BMW arrives to mar the spectacle. “Lucy’s here too,” I call over my shoulder to Austin.

  We step onto the porch and I make the introductions.

  “Is your bike custom?” Lucy asks, admiring the shiny chrome and metal.

  “Yeah.” Dune explains the details to a rapt Lucy, and why didn’t I think to ask that question? Lucy commandeers the conversation in an artful way, finding out things I should have asked and didn’t.

  Why I’m A Secondary Character:

  Didn’t ask his motorcycle club name or say “Genius” when he revealed Rocky Riders

  Didn’t know Dune is the club’s treasurer

  Thought they just liked to ride and never fathomed each member of his club must clock twenty thousand miles a year

  It’s time to take back my heroine status by again borrowing Ava’s words from Motorcycle Mayhem: “It must be wonderful to have a brotherhood that has your back no matter what. Riding the road, free”—I gaze at his bike with what I hope conveys yearning—“yet captive to each other by an unbreakable bond.”

  Dune’s dark eyes zone in on me. “You get it. It’s like you took my thoughts and stole them right out of my head.”

  I’m a plagiarist. I should tell Austin to get his cuffs and arrest me. But I can’t because Dune leans in for a breathtaking smooch. It’s heady, with a dash of awkward, as we’re watched by Austin and Lucy. Dune rests his forehead to mine as if we’re alone.

  Austin clears his throat in a reminder we’re not. “We’ll just head inside. Don’t forget to let me know what kind of cake you want.”

  “Chocolate,” I call out as they walk away.

  “Cake?” Dune asks.

  “My birthday is next weekend,” I say.

  “Twenty-seven is a two and a seven. That’s nine. The square root of nine is three.”

  There’s nothing to sa
y to that, so I stay silent as his eyes drift over my face. “I have to head to the club. But I needed to see you, even if it was just for a minute.”

  Disappointment reigns that he’s busy again, but I’m going to go with it and let things happen in an organic manner. With longer days, that means when he’s free, we’ll have more time to spend together. Summer is the perfect time to fall in love with a bad boy.

  Six

  Happy to report, twenty-seven feels exactly the same as twenty-six. Except for the crushing reality that I am now one year older and may add yet another failed relationship to my list. My goals are slipping further away. Silver lining—this is the first birthday of my life spent with a date. Dune has whisked me away for a surprise. Armed with the things I’ve learned from my romance books, I’m going to make every second count.

  Wish I had read these sooner. No wonder I haven’t been able to keep a man. If this were Romancelandia, I’d be worse than the secondary character. They at least get spin-offs. I’d be the co-worker, or neighbor, who only shows up when a scene needs more people. I have been Comatose Chloe all along.

  “So do you ever read books?”

  “Nah. No time.”

  I’ve spent the ride trying to know Dune on another level besides physical, trying to find out what makes this bad boy tick. He’s powered by adrenaline, and we have nothing in common. Well. That’s not totally true.

  Things We Have In Common Besides Nothing:

  We both love his tattoos.

  See number one.

  See number two.

  The wind swirling through the Jeep takes my sigh and carries it away. “You know, twenty-six is two and six. And six divided by two is three,” I reach as Dune drives us toward worlds unknown. “I’ve known you in two three phases of my life.”

  “Don’t say those things unless you want to get naked.”

  I lean on the console, chin in hand. “It is my birthday, and there’s that whole birthday suit thing and all.”

  I’m becoming a pro at seduction after reading erotica. Dating a bad boy is bringing out the bad girl in me.

  “Don’t tempt me. We’re almost there,” he says, placing a hand on my thigh and trailing a finger toward my maidenhead. Now there’s a word I never thought I’d use, but romance books use it, so there ya go.

  “How much longer?” Excitement mounts as to what my birthday surprise entails. We’ve been cruising backcountry roads in the Jeep for close to an hour, and Dune has remained tight-lipped about where we’re going. He’s a man of few words, and I get it. When you look like him, you don’t even need to speak. My phone rings, and I glance at the screen to see I’ve just answered a FaceTime call from my mom.

  “Happy birthday, honey,” she says. “Twenty-seven years ago, I was pushing you out of my vagina.”

  “Mom,” I say. “I’m not alone.”

  “I’m sure they know how childbirth works,” she says. “It’s not a pretty thing. Who are you with?”

  “Dune,” I answer.

  Dune leans in a bit. “Hi.”

  This is not how I thought this would go down, and I change the subject. “Where are you, Mom?”

  “At your grandmother’s.”

  Granny sticks her face to the phone. “Happy birthday, honey. When are you coming to visit? Will Dune be joining?”

  She continues to attempt an interrogation, shaking her head in the background as Mom breaks in to tell me about her new dig. Dune speeds down the road, occasionally chuckling under his breath as they squabble. Well, this is my family and this is what you get if you end up with me. We hang up with a promise from me to call as soon as I get back.

  “Sorry about that. It’s their tradition to harass me on my birthday.”

  “No worries.” With a grin, he makes a fast right onto a road shadowed by dense woods. “Five minutes.”

  Curiosity overwhelms me as he navigates to a trailhead filled with a hodgepodge of cars. He zips into an empty space and parks.

  “What is this place?”

  “So, I wanted to take you somewhere special for your birthday, and Lucy had a great idea.”

  “Lucy?” Oh, dear. Why on earth would he ask Lucy and not Charlotte?

  “Yeah, I saw her at the mall while I was looking for new boots.”

  “Ah.”

  For some reason, the disappointment is strong knowing he gets his gear at the mall. I’d like to think there is a special alpha shop that caters only to bad boys. There was in the BB Easton book. At any rate, none of that matters as he continues, “Ready for part one of your birthday surprise?”

  I smile. “So ready.”

  “We’re camping. My gift to you.”

  In a perfect display of my feelings, crickets chirp from the trees surrounding us. “Camping like a tent, fire, and sleeping bag? Or glamping like a cabin, electricity, and a bed?”

  “The real deal, sweets. Two days of roughing it.”

  “Oh, wow.” I’m scheduled off from work, so that’s not a problem, but the last time I went camping was never. I haven’t had the best luck connecting with the outdoors, but how can I say no to something I totally hate when it comes from those lips? Besides, this will be a bonding experience. Long, hot days just means more time to spend together, I remind myself.

  “Sounds fun.” Why in the heck would Lucy suggest camping? “I didn’t bring any clothes, obviously, so...”

  “Don’t you worry that pretty head of yours. I have everything covered.”

  To thank him, and also to hide my disappointment at not being able to back out of this, I slide my hand against the pulse beating fast in his neck and press my lips to his. “This is so sweet.”

  “Don’t tell anyone.”

  He exits and removes a backpack from the rear. And his vest, of course. You have to admire his dedication to bikerdom in the sweltering heat. “It’s a long hike to the campsite.” He wanders over to the brush in front of the Jeep and forages through the grass. “You might want this.” He holds out a knobby branch, half the length of my body.

  “Why would I need that?” Wary, I glance over to the narrow dirt trail leading into the woods. “Is something going to attack me?”

  He chuckles. “It’s a walking stick. Nothing will ever attack you when I’m around. Guarantee it.”

  His protective words are sexy, but… “Anywhere you’re going that requires a walking stick is much too far.”

  “It will be worth it.”

  Hand in hand, we set off down the path. About a hundred miles into the hike, I search for a positive to counter the negative of my aching calves. It’s at least ten degrees cooler beneath the thick canopy of trees, so that’s good. Fewer chances of rattlesnakes. Sunlight filters through the leaves and needles, leaving a different mosaic of diamonds as we shimmy through brambles and hop over twisted tree roots for hours on our endless trek.

  “What do you think so far?” Dune asks when we stop for a water break.

  “It’s a thicket of beauty,” I say, knowing Lucy would swing by her shiny hair from the trees with a smile.

  Tensions rise when Dune reveals a shocking twist.

  “Yeah.” He replaces the canteens in his pack. “We could’ve driven closer to the site, and did a five-minute walk, but I wanted you to experience this with me.”

  I point my stick at him. “You mean there was an easier way?”

  “There’s always an easier way,” he says. “But what does that get you? Besides mainstream.”

  I could list the things it gets me, but unfortunately, I’m too tired. Then he makes me forget all about my ruffled feathers. “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by.

  And that has made all the difference.”

  Goosebumps flare across my sweaty skin. “You just quoted The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost. Are you even a real man?” I whisper, with bones of poetry putty.

  He rubs his generous package and stalks closer, eyeing me like prey. “I think you know just how real I am.”


  Up against the rough bark of a Ponderosa pine, with a knee-buckling kiss, he makes me forget how I’ve chosen the simple path all my life. Voyeur birds trill as his tongue swoops in and flutters against mine. Much too soon, he breaks away.

  “We should go,” he says, dropping three quick kisses on my lips. “Don’t want to stir up the animals.” He rocks his hips against me. “Or do we?”

  As much as I want to continue, the threat of wild animals overrules the ache between my legs. Besides, there’s always a fire risk here, and this is dangerously hot. “We should probably go. Finish this at camp.”

  With a move straight out of a romance novel, he slips a finger beneath my shorts, into my panties and through my wetness. “I need a taste to hold me over.” He sucks the wetness from his finger, and I’d hike ten more miles for a chance to have him look at me the way he is right now. Okay, maybe five. Three. Yes, three.

  We continue on, and just when I’m ready to use this stick to vault out of here, he offers a reprieve. “It’s up ahead.”

  “Thank you, Tattoo Jesus,” I say as we approach a clearing.

  My steps slow, wondering if I’m dehydrated and seeing a mirage ahead.

  In the packed-dirt open area are four large tents, Adirondack chairs, balloons, a biker couple and...my friends. Even Lucy and Mr. Charlotte-to-be are here.

  “Surprise,” they yell.

  I’m so tired, and shocked, tears mix with the sweat flooding my face.

  “I can’t believe you did this,” I blubber, latching onto the vest I’m not supposed to touch. “And brought my friends.”

  Dune pulls me into his hard chest. “Figured you’d like it.” He whispers in my ear, “Plus, wasn’t it fun when we outbanged your roommate the first time?”

  Everyone surrounds me and overly-hot hugs abound, so I’m able to ignore his comment.

  “I can’t believe you’re all here,” I say. I’m astounded they agreed to this since it’s literally camping. Like out in the wilderness. If they also had to hike all day to get here and there’s no cell service... They must truly love me.