My Kinda Kisses Read online

  My Kinda Kisses

  Summer Sisters Book 1

  Copyright © 2016 Lacey Black

  Photograph & Cover design by Sara Eirew

  Website: www.saraeirew.com

  Editing by Kara Hildebrand

  Format by Brenda Wright, Formatting Done Wright

  This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

  All rights reserved.

  Index

  Also by Lacey Black

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Epilogue

  Another Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Al

  so by Lacey Black

  Rivers Edge series

  Trust Me, Rivers Edge book 1 (Maddox and Avery) – FREE at all retailers

  ~ #1 Bestseller in Contemporary Romance & #3 in overall free e-books

  ~ #2 Bestseller in overall free e-books on another retailer

  Fight Me, Rivers Edge book 2 (Jake and Erin)

  Expect Me, Rivers Edge book 3 (Travis and Josselyn)

  Promise Me: A Novella, Rivers Edge book 3.5 (Jase and Holly)

  Protect Me, Rivers Edge book 4 (Nate and Lia)

  Boss Me, Rivers Edge book 5 (Will and Carmen)

  Trust Us: A Rivers Edge Christmas Novella (Maddox and Avery)

  ~ This novella was originally part of the Christmas Miracles Anthology

  Bound Together series

  Submerged, Bound Together book 1 (Blake and Carly)

  ~ An International Bestseller, reaching Top 100 in 3 charts at the same time.

  Profited, Bound Together book 2 (Reid and Dani)

  Standalone

  Music Notes, a sexy contemporary romance standalone

  *Coming Soon from Lacey Black

  Entwined, Bound Together Book 3 (Luke and Sidney)

  Book 2 in the Summer Sisters series, My Kinda Night (Payton and Dean)

  Dedic

  ation

  To my sisters, Lori and Deanna.

  God gave me the best when he gave me you.

  Love you to infinity!

  Chapter One

  Jaime

  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.

  Tonight, it’s putt putt golf at The Beaver, a local hangout offering a fun, casual atmosphere and a dozen different beers on tap. It’s also the home of Harry, the six-foot tall wooden beaver statue that takes up residence right in the middle of the beer garden. You never know what attire that large hunk of hand carved wood will adorn. It can be anything from a t-shirt supporting the local cancer charity to a coconut bra and grass skirt. The best part is, no one really knows where Harry came from. All we know is that he’s been in the middle of the beer garden of The Beaver since the 1940’s. See, Harry’s sort of the official mascot at one of our favorite hangouts in our small Virginian town along the Bay.

  Jupiter Bay: Home of eight thousand busybodies who know everything about you, and will still go out of their way to help a friend in need. And since everyone knows everyone in Jupiter Bay, everyone’s your friend.

  Or so they think.

  Right now, I’m about to putt my bright pink ball through the spinning windmill and sink it in the hole for my second birdy of the night. What can I say? Putt putt is my sport. I know my way around the green.

  “If you make this shot, I swear I’m never inviting you to play again,” my younger sister Meghan grumbles.

  “Why don’t you shove that straw in your mouth and zip your lips while I sink this putt.” My backstroke is smooth, my follow-through precise as I tap my ball, sending it sailing through the windmill, bouncing perfectly off the sideboard, and dropping it straight into the cup. Perfect. Shot.

  A round of groans erupt behind me as my five sisters watch my celebratory golf club shimmy. I turn around to face them, all bright eyed and wide smiled, and pretend to buff my fingernails on my shoulder and blow off the dust. This sister is on fire tonight. And I’m sure it has nothing to do with the three draft Heinekens I’ve already consumed since our arrival a little over an hour ago. No, I can hold my liquor. The beer only helps perfect my putt putt awesomeness.

  “I don’t even know why we come here. You kill it every time,” my oldest sister Payton says.

  “Don’t be jealous of my mini-golf amazingness. It’s a gift. The LPGA called last week and is interested in my skills,” I tell her, taking a final drink from my cup.

  “I’m just glad to finally see the old Jaime again,” AJ adds solemnly. The look on her face lets me know she clearly didn’t mean to vocalize the thought. My sisters glance at each other–everywhere but at me, really–before adding discreet little nods.

  I can’t dispute her statement, because AJ is right. I haven’t been myself. Not since my fiancé, Gavin, left me practically standing at the altar. In reality, it was the week of our pending nuptials, but the resulting damage was the same nonetheless. I was wrecked.

  The result of the breakup was my return home to Jupiter Bay. I was the only sister to head off to college and not return home. My plan was simple, be married to a successful man by thirty with baby number one on the way by our one-year anniversary. I dreamed of staying home with my brood of adorable little brunette babies with their daddy’s hazel eyes. Company dinners, family outings, and PTA meetings. That’s what I wanted, and I was one week away from crossing phase one off the checklist when my world came crashing down around me.

  I’m a planner by nature. I like to make lists of my daily tasks, my weekly chores, my life goals. Everything and anything can be organized properly on a nice little checklist, ensuring no detail is missed, nothing overlooked. Funny, but never on that list was being dumped before my master plan could fully get off the ground.

  My plan essentially stalled the day I received that text. Yep, you heard me correctly. The jerkface pond scum couldn’t even break my heart and shatter my dreams to my face. He took the cowards way out and sent an impersonal message as if he were canceling a business meeting with a client.

  Gavin: Hey, sorry this is last minute but I can’t marry you.

  End of story.

  And maybe that’s all I was: an inconvenience to disreg
ard.

  Even though Gavin and I had been together for five years, there never really was that spark, that chemistry that makes you want to rip your clothes off and get it on in the middle of a busy street. We were comfortable, plain and simple. Oh, it didn’t start that way. It started as a powerful new love, each one craving the other with an intensity never before felt. Unfortunately, the flicker fizzled and died about as quickly as a sparkler on the Fourth of July. It was all big and bright, and then nothing but the residual smoke.

  But even so, I didn’t see it coming and was gutted the day he ended our relationship as if I was nothing–meant nothing. Now, I’m the proverbial hamster on the wheel, spinning, spinning, and going nowhere fast. The sister with big dreams of a house, husband, kids, and a cat whose dream never even got off the ground.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” AJ mumbles, turning her shining eyes on mine for the first time since her comment.

  “No, it’s alright. You don’t ever have to apologize for speaking your mind. Especially when we all know it was the truth.”

  “Are you excited to start at the shop Monday?” my youngest sister, one of the twins, Abby, asks.

  “I guess.” I desperately suck the remaining droplets of beer out of my empty cup. “I don’t really know what I’m doing, but I know I can’t stay at home any longer. I can’t decide if Grandpa walks around in his tighty whities because he likes it casual and breezy or if he’s trying to scare me out of the house.”

  Easy laughter fills the cool, early June night. Five sets of sparkling green eyes of various shades of my own stare back at me. “I think he’s just more comfortable in his skivvies. He used to do that all the time when I was still at home,” Lexi says. “Remember how we were always terrified to have friends spend the night?”

  “Oh, I definitely remember that,” Payton adds with a hearty laugh.

  Payton is the oldest Summer sister, three years older than my twenty-nine years. While all of us look strikingly similar in appearance, Payton and I have the closest resemblance. Well, if you don’t include the twins. Payton owns Blossoms and Blooms in downtown Jupiter Bay where, as of this coming Monday morning, I’ll be working full-time, trying to find my next passion in life. No, I don’t intend to find my new dream while arranging roses and baby’s breath, especially when my thumb is as brown as they come. Lord knows I can’t even keep dandelions in the yard alive.

  Alison Jane, or AJ as we’ve all called her since elementary school, is two years behind me. She’s the seventh and eighth grade math teacher, as well as the cheer coach, at the junior high. I knew from the moment she was old enough to read to our younger sisters that AJ was our tutor, the nurturer in the family.

  One quick year after AJ was born came Meghan. While she wasn’t the first Summer sister to get married (that was Lexi), I truly believe Meghan will be the next. Josh and Meghan became a couple three years ago while I was still living in Cleveland with the douche who shall remain nameless. They go everywhere together. Hell, I’m surprised he’s not sitting inside on a barstool watching us play mini-golf right now. Josh is a great guy and worships the ground Meg walks on. If it wasn’t so sickeningly sweet, I’d almost be a little jealous.

  Almost.

  Finally, to round out the Summer clan, we have Abby and Lexi. The twins came along when I was just starting kindergarten. They’re as identical in looks as you can get, but complete opposite in personality. Where one is outgoing and bubbly, the other prefers books and quiet. Lexi is married to her high school sweetheart, Chris, who is rarely in attendance at any family function, let alone stopping by at the end of Girls’ Night.

  But one thing’s for sure, no one ever miss our monthly sisters’ evening.

  The gatherings started while I was in Cleveland, but turned into a regular monthly appointment in my calendar when I returned to town. I liked living in the Midwestern city, but, admittedly, never really felt at home like I do in Jupiter Bay. For the longest time, I thought that all I needed was Gavin, and I was content anywhere I went. Unfortunately, he didn’t feel the same way.

  As we wrap up our game and order another round, Josh finally makes his predictable appearance at the bar. Meghan practically sprints towards him as he steps through the door, the smile on her face radiating delight.

  And I’m truly happy for her. I’m pleased for all of my sisters, even the ones who have yet to find love. They’re independent, fierce, and loyal. They forge their own way, even when life tries to keep them down. Lord knows we’ve had enough heartache to last a lifetime, but it doesn’t seem to be holding any of them back.

  Maybe it’s time to take a page from their book and focus on the here and now. I’m here, without Gavin, and that’s how my life is going to be. There’s no use crying over spilled milk. It’s time to pick up the pieces and move forward.

  I make a mental checklist of the things I want to accomplish by the time I’m thirty later this year. A new checklist. One that doesn’t include weddings and babies, but includes simpler things like learn how to grill a steak (something I have yet to master) and repaint my bedroom furniture. Easy tasks that I’ll be able to proudly check off, essentially getting myself back in my groove. I also make sure to add a no dating clause to the checklist. The last thing I need is to step into something sticky right now, so fresh out of my breakup. Sure it was six months ago, but that’s okay. Slow and steady, that’s key.

  It’s not going to be easy, moving on, but it’s necessary. And as I gaze at my smiling sisters, I make myself a promise to help them find their happiness. Even if I don’t see mine anywhere on the horizon, I can make sure theirs is within their grasp.

  My one chance to live my dream–marriage, babies, PTA meetings–is a thing of the past. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe that dream wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Maybe it wasn’t for me. Maybe I’ll find a new dream that’s bigger and better than the one before.

  And maybe I’m completely full of shit.

  Chapter Two

  Ryan

  “What time do we meet with the Hazeltons?” I ask, dropping my tool belt onto the plastic chair across from Mary.

  “They’re meeting you onsite at four,” my faithful office assistant replies with a stern look.

  “What?” I ask, following her line of sight down to the tattered remains of one of my only good pairs of khakis.

  “I thought the boss wasn’t supposed to get dirty when he’s ‘checking’ on a job?” she asks, using air quotes to emphasize the word checking.

  “Orlando called in again. His wife’s not doing well, so I helped unload drywall.”

  “You ripped holes in your pants by carrying drywall?” The look she offers reminds me of one my mother used to give me when I was caught doing something I wasn’t supposed to be doing. Great. I’m already in trouble, and it’s only three o’clock on Monday afternoon.

  Pulling a cold bottle of water out of the mini-fridge, I take long, deep pulls before returning my attention to my right-hand woman. “Once we got the delivery truck unloaded, I helped hang a few sheets. No big deal.”

  “It wouldn’t be a big deal, Ryan, if you weren’t an hour away from meeting with your largest client yet. You wore khakis and a button-up for a reason, you know.” I don’t even have time to speak before she continues. “How is Paula doing?” Mary’s voice is as sober and wretched as we all feel.

  “Not good. They don’t think she has much time.” I relay the details of my early morning conversation with one of my first hired employees when I moved to Jupiter Bay a little over a year ago. His wife of twenty years is in the end stage of breast cancer. She has fought a long battle, spanning the last two years, but the cancer is winning. “I told him to take as much time as he needed. His job is secure.”

  “I still can’t believe it. She just turned forty last month. Their daughter is going into her senior year of high school.” Mary shakes her head, tears filling her wrinkled blue eyes, as she verbalizes t
he sorrow we’ve all felt over her fight with this horrible disease.

  “Me neither.”

  “It’s good of you to hold his job,” she adds, her voice soft and full of compassion.

  “It’s the right thing to do. The only thing to do. Make note to send over some food for them later in the week,” I say, Mary quickly jotting down something in her ever-present notebook.

  “Consider it done. Are we on track for the Fredrickson family to take occupancy on the first of August?” Mary asks, flipping to the page labeled with the corresponding job site. I’ve tried to convince her to utilize the computer collecting dust on her desktop, but she refuses to learn. She says her pen and paper are more reliable than the piece of electronics taking up residence in front of her.

  “Yep. Drywallers are mudding tomorrow and the flooring should be here by the end of the week.”

  I watch as she makes notes, noticing the slight tremor in her hand. It’s not as noticeable in the morning as it is in the afternoon, but it’s there nonetheless.

  Mary was one of the first residents of Jupiter Bay that I met when I moved to town a little over a year ago. She was waiting tables at the diner, busting her ass for tips, while on her feet for ten to twelve hours a day. I was immediately drawn to her spunky attitude. Sara, my girlfriend at the time, was taken aback by the quick-witted quips and sassy comebacks from the older waitress. Me? I was fascinated.

  After having lunch or dinner in that diner for two weeks straight, I decided that when I got my small construction business off the ground, I was taking Mary with me. She doesn’t take any shit from anyone, least of all me. And, honestly, from the very start, I grew to care for the ol’ woman, and I was anxious to see her off her feet and bringing home a steady, solid paycheck for her husband and disabled son at home.

  Mary runs my office. She answers the phone, is the first contact for potential clients, and keeps me well organized. Not to mention handling payroll, paying the bills, ordering material, and picking up the slack wherever needed. Just the thought of having to do all of this shit without her makes me shudder. Not only does she handle my office, but she effectively handles me. I’ll admit it. She makes sure I’m where I need to be, when I need to be there. She’s like my mom, but without riding my ass for not calling enough.