Sweet Summer Love (The Sweetest Thing, #3) Read online

  His grunts grow louder and the movements faster, as the motion of his body becomes more jerky – along with his breaths. And then with one final push, his strong body stiffens unbelievably tighter as he stills above me. Carver groans so deep, I swear the earth below moves with the rumble of his bellow.

  He buries his head in the crook of my neck as I stroke the back of his head; his neck; and down his spine, loving the slick feel of his muscular shoulders.

  A few moments pass and he still hasn’t moved. I know he’s still awake because I can feel his eyelashes flutter against the skin of my neck.

  And then he says the words that remind me there is nothing that will ever separate us, because we are now one.

  “I love you, Logan. You and me forever.”

  But I will soon learn that Carver’s a liar.

  And forever doesn’t exist.

  Chapter 1

  Logan – March Five years later

  “Your ten-thirty patient has arrived, Logan.”

  And then Bethany adds under her breath, “If you can manage to tell time, that is.”

  I nod at her as I walk by her desk. She’s Dr. Connell’s front desk receptionist and office administrator, and has only been here two months longer than I have. Even so, she demonstrates an air of superiority over me, along with an underlying hostility that she only displays when no one else is around. Like now.

  The hallway behind the desk is empty and Bethany knows when the doctor isn’t around and when she has liberty to shoot these little barbs at me. I honestly don’t get it. I’ve been nothing but nice to her since the moment I walked in to complete my new hire paperwork. I’d joined the dental assistant team right out of school and it wasn’t my intention to make any waves with any of my colleagues. I normally get along with everyone, but I have no clue what I’ve done to make her despise me so much.

  It’s not terribly important that I make best friends with those I work with, but it sure makes it better. With Bethany’s cold shoulder always on the ready, I’ve tried my best to suck it up and deal with her rude attitude. My motto has always been “get along and get ’er done.” I may have stolen that from my father. A family heirloom, of sorts. Possibly the only thing he’d ever given me since the age of thirteen.

  That’s because nothing free was ever given to the youngest of four from my poor farming family living in one of the poorest farming communities in Washington state. I was lucky to get hand-me-down shoes from the Goodwill by the time I was born. As the only girl in a household of three older brothers, I had to earn my way and keep up – or get beat up. I was not treated like a princess in some fairy tale. There was no slacking or using the “I’m just a girl” excuse, because none of them gave a rat’s ass that I was their baby sister. In fact, it only made them want to beat on me more.

  I suppose I should thank them for teaching me how to survive by growing thick skin. Now I’m able to deal with the likes of the Bethanys of the world, and her snotty attitude toward me. While I don’t think I deserve her spite, I’m not about to get my panties in a wad and go tattle on her to my new boss, Dr. Connell.

  Her like or dislike of me will not affect my job as the newest dental assistant in one of Seattle’s best oral surgery and dentistry practices. My entire goal is to become indispensable to the doctor, so he’ll consider me an asset to him. So I won’t be tossed away like garbage. Thrown away without a glance back like others have done in my life.

  So far, Dr. Connell seems to like me. Perhaps a little too much. Since I started six months ago, Dr. Connell has asked me out twice. And in the age of office sexual harassment lawsuits, you’d think an up-and-coming dentist like him would avoid that conduct.

  He isn’t a slime ball, or creepy, or anything like that. It’s not like he’s lurking around me trying to get fresh or cop a feel. Apart from him asking me out, Dr. Connell has been careful never to do anything untoward. He’s a good teacher and mild-mannered boss, and I enjoy working for him.

  I’ve politely declined each time he’s asked me out. He’s a decent looking man, probably mid-thirties, and a little geeky but sweet. I’m sure he’s quite a catch – but I’m not interested.

  Perhaps that’s why Bethany dislikes me so vehemently. Maybe she’s jealous. I don’t really care what bee’s up her butt. I shouldn’t have to bend over backwards just to win her over. My time is better spent elsewhere.

  Picking up the client folder from the slot on the counter, I quickly glance at the folder and scheduled appointment. It’s Friday and we generally have scheduled appointments until noon, leaving the afternoon open for any emergency walk-ins and weekly paperwork.

  I open the door to the waiting room area and flash a smile to the middle-aged man in the lobby.

  “Mr. Arnold. Come on back. We’re all ready for you now.”

  There’s something unnerving about him as he brushes past me, walking with an air of confidence, his deep brown eyes scanning me from head to toe. “We’ll be in room B today.”

  Mr. Arnold strides ahead, his navy-blue suit wrinkle-free and screaming “I’m the shit.” Mary Ann, one of the other dental assistants, warned me that Mr. Arnold is some bigwig lawyer and one of our select clients.

  Well, la-tee-da. I treat all my patients the same. No matter what race or wallet size, they all have the same oral care requirements. I will not bow down to anyone just because of their social status.

  Even rich people’s breath can stink.

  “Any changes to your medical history since the last time you were in, Mr. Arnold?”

  I take a seat in the rolling chair next to his reclining figure, reviewing his medical information tab on my open computer screen.

  The leering snide of his voice has my head snapping toward him, my eyebrows creasing with question.

  “In fact, yes, there is...I’m in much better shape now that I’m divorced.”

  He chuckles with a lecherous undertone, even adding on a wink. “And my stamina is better now than it was in my twenties.”

  I want to gag up my breakfast.

  Growing up with three older brothers, I’ve heard every sexual innuendo there is and I rarely bat an eye at it. But there’s a time and a place for it. Not in my workplace when I’m about to use very sharp metal instruments in your mouth. That’s just plain stupid. This guy is obviously not as smart as his thousand-dollar suit implies.

  I bite the inside of my cheek and let out a polite laugh at his annoying comment. Although I should shut him down.

  Turning back to my computer, I decide to ignore his comment.

  “Mm-hm. Let’s see here. On your last visit, we were watching the amalgam on your bilateral bicuspids. You were wearing them down quite a bit and the doctor wanted to review it this time to see if a bite guard is necessary.”

  Mr. Arnold makes another mocking sound, but I refrain from giving him my attention. Behind me he says, “Now that I’m not sleeping with my bitch of an ex, my grinding has stopped.”

  Douche.

  “Well, we’ll have Dr. Connell confirm where things are at. Is there anything else we should review?”

  There’s a short pause and I can’t help but swivel around. I find Mr. Arnold blatantly staring at me.

  “Now that you mention it, I do have some sensitivity in the back tooth.”

  He opens his mouth wide and points toward one of the upper molars.

  I slip on my latex gloves, covering my mouth and nose with my mask, and lean in. Using the mirror and periodontal probe, I investigate the location he’s indicated where the pain stems from. I’m going about my business as his left arm swings up and his hand lightly brushes across my right breast.

  I jerk back with a sharp intake of breath. Since I can’t be sure he did it on purpose, I’ll let it go. This time. But if it happens again, I won’t refrain from admonishing him. Fool me once and all that.

  His excuse is immediate but lacking sincerity in the apology, as evidenced by the expression on his face. He wears a pathetically smarmy smile
. “I’m so sorry. You just startled me.”

  Mm-hmm. I’m sure that was it.

  One of the areas that has come a long way in the dental assistant field is that we no longer have to be subjected to sexual harassment. No woman, in any profession, should tolerate the sliminess that some men seem to wear. Dr. Connell’s office harassment policy is very clear that it extends to patients and not just management. This type of occurrence happens more than it should when men feel at liberty to cop a feel.

  If I wanted, I could stand-up right now, walk into the doctor’s office and call Mr. Arnold out for his indecent groping.

  But I won’t. It’s not necessary. I’ll handle it on my own. Just like I’ve done with everything since I was seventeen.

  I tilt my head to the side, my eyes pinned to him with an assessing stare, showing him that I won’t back down. I won’t cower. I have the upper hand here.

  “Mr. Arnold. You should really be more careful. It’s very important that I keep a steady hand while I have sharp instruments in your mouth. I’d hate for you to accidentally bump me again. That could cause quite the severe outcome.” I clear my throat, looking over my shoulder at the computer and then back to him. “And according to your chart, you’re quite prone to being extra sensitive to dental cleanings.”

  What I don’t mention is that his records indicated that during his last dental procedure, Mr. Arnold cried like a little baby – a simple filling. I have to stifle my laugh when I see his face turn ghost white and he grips the arm rests more tightly from the threat in my response. He knows it and I know it.

  Don’t mess with me again, otherwise you’ll be sorry.

  “Now then, if you’re ready to proceed, I think the sensitivity in that area could be from the trauma caused by the bruxism.” I continue to explain the damage could be extensive, smiling as I do. “We’ll get some bitewing x-rays and have a look.”

  ****

  It’s after one in the afternoon and time for lunch. I’m exhausted from a long morning and an even longer week. My lower back aches from being hunched over my last patient during her root canal and my dogs are barking like ferocious Pit Bulls. As in, my feet hurt like hell.

  I’m in the small kitchenette breakroom when Dr. Connell comes in, lunch bag in hand.

  “Mind if I join you, Logan?” He asks sweetly, his smile highlighting the bright white of his perfectly aligned teeth.

  Motioning to the chair next to me, I slide my sandwich container over to allow him room at the table.

  “Thanks.”

  I finish chewing my sandwich and close the book I’ve been reading. One from the James Patterson collection. I’ve had it in my possession for weeks now and can’t seem to get through it very fast. My roommate, Alison, however, is a book whore and speed reader. Our apartment is littered with piles of books, which she calls ‘research’.

  There’s a short pause before Dr. Connell – or Jeff, as he has asked me to call him on more than one occasion – speaks again.

  “How was your week? You seemed a little off kilter earlier today.”

  It’s surprising that he picked up on that. I’m usually good at wearing my poker face and keeping my feelings hidden. Lessons learned as a young girl, when I was picked on mercilessly for showing any type of emotion.

  I give him a half-hearted shrug and pick up an apple slice from my lunchbox.

  “Oh, I’m fine. Thanks for asking. I’m just tired today.”

  He takes a moment to consider this, nodding his head and pursing his lips.

  “Are you feeling okay? Maybe you’re coming down with something. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Not likely. I’m the picture of perfect health. I just haven’t been sleeping well. It’s the time of year where the memories keep me awake at night, revisiting my past decisions. Nothing my boss can do anything about.

  “No, I’m feeling great. Work is going well – things are good.” I say this with as much enthusiasm as I can muster, hoping to placate him so he’ll lay off the twenty questions. It’s making me more uncomfortable than Mr. Arnold’s wandering hands.

  “I’m so glad to hear that. You’re doing an amazing job, Logan. I know the patients adore you. As do I.”

  My eyes slide to his when he says this. Oh, shit. His expression is filled with genuine warmth and affection. I know what this means. I hold my breath and count to ten, uncertain how to proceed.

  Dr. Connell – Jeff – is a very nice guy. Obviously kind and thoughtful. He reminds me of the character Bill Pullman played in Sleepless in Seattle. A little straight-laced for my taste and pretty goofy. I guess he’s good-looking, in a dull sort of way. He has neatly trimmed dark hair that’s turning a shade of salt-and-pepper at his temples. I could certainly do worse.

  But I don’t want to do anything. I’m not interested in dating or developing a serious relationship with anyone right now. And I fear Jeff is looking for exactly that thing.

  He clears his throat, a blush creeping up his neck. “Logan,” he begins nervously, “I really like you. You are a terrific employee. I know you’re apprehensive about dating...but I guess I’m a glutton for punishment and want to ask you one more time...just in case...in the event you might reconsider.”

  His hands fiddle nervously with the bottle of Kombucha tea in front of him, and it just makes me feel sorry for him.

  He continues, “Would you consider just dinner with me? Only dinner. We could even do the early bird special and I’d have you home by eight.”

  I can’t help but giggle at his offer. Any other girl would be lucky to date him. For me, though, I’m damaged goods. My life isn’t the same as most other’s my age. I still have too much work to do on myself before I’d ever be ready for what he’s hoping for.

  I’ll give him one thing. The man is certainly persistent. Maybe if I just said yes to one date, he’d get it out of his system. It’s just one date.

  “Dr. Connell-”

  “Jeff, please.” He interrupts softly.

  I straighten my spine and turn toward him.

  “Okay, Jeff. Just dinner. That’s all I can commit to. I think it’s a horrible idea, though – dating the boss. That’s why no-fraternizing policies exist in employee handbooks.”

  The look on his face is utter glee. Oh geez. He’s like a five-year-old boy on Christmas morning. Excited. Hopeful. Happy. Apparently, I’m the life-size present Santa brought him this year.

  Jeff’s clammy palm lands on top of my hand resting on the table. I want to pull it back, but don’t want to reject him, so I keep it there. I see a flash of movement over Jeff’s shoulder as Bethany walks by, her eyes glaring with contempt.

  Oh, great. Just another reason for her to hate me.

  “We don’t have that policy in our handbook.” His voice rises two octaves higher, snapping my attention back to him.

  “I’m so happy. You’ve made my day.” He rambles eagerly, “Is tomorrow night too soon?”

  I search my brain for an excuse, but all I have planned is finishing this book.

  “Um...well, I’ll have to check.”

  Jeff has already pulled up his phone calendar, perusing the dates on his schedule.

  “Do you enjoy college basketball?”

  Huh?

  I give him a perplexed tilt of my head. “College basketball?”

  He nods his head and waves his hand in excitement. “Yes! I totally forgot. My buddy from UW works at the arena and invited me to use his VIP tickets for tomorrow night’s Regional playoffs. We could go watch the game and then have dinner afterward. What do you say?”

  So much for just dinner and home by eight. I don’t want to let him down, but college basketball isn’t exactly my thing. I’ve only known one basketball player in my life and he left me without a backward glance. So, no, I can’t say I like basketball.

  The lunch in my stomach swishes and sloshes around like piranhas in a pool of bodies. But I feel like I’ll be the one eaten alive.

  Against my better
judgment, because of his excitement, I offer up my response.

  “Sure, that sounds great.”

  Chapter 2

  Carver – Second Round NCAA Tourney

  It’s weird being back home in Seattle.

  I can’t say it feels like home anymore, because my home has been Phoenix for the last four years where I’ve attended college. Seattle is simply the place I grew up.

  Mercer Island, specifically. That’s where my parents live. It’s the home to the rich and relatively famous of the Seattle dot-commers and tech-giants. My father is one of those people. He made it big before I was born when he developed a veritable, one-of-a-kind software program and sold it to an off-shoot of Microsoft in the early nineties. Needless to say I grew up in a very influential area.

  Looking back, I had a great childhood. I went to the most prestigious of schools, was afforded opportunities to play on elite high school basketball leagues, and attended the best summer enrichment programs and camps that money can buy. My parents loved me and doted on me as their only child.

  But that was then and this is now. And my father and I don’t talk any longer. Not after he made a decision that affected my future without consulting me. I will never forgive him for it.

  Since then, I’ve limited my trips back home to a handful of holidays. I can’t recall the last time we had a civilized conversation that didn’t erupt in a shouting match. Or just silence. My mother, God bless her, is amazing, and I feel bad she’s been caught in the middle of our war.

  It’s not with some regret that I chose not to invite my parents to come watch me play in the championship games this week. As captain of the ASU men’s basketball team, I received four tickets that I could dole out to my family or friends. I elected to give them to my high school buddies. Call me an asshole or whatever. If my dad wants to come see me play, he has the funds to fork out to purchase tickets. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me to find out he bought a box suite at the stadium.