Summer's Surrender Read online

  Summer’s Surrender

  by

  LM Spangler

  Summer’s Surrender

  Copyright © 2018, LM Spangler

  ISBN: 9781949300031

  Publisher: Beachwalk Press, Inc.

  Electronic Publication: July 2018

  Editor: Pamela Tyner

  Cover: Fantasia Frog Designs

  eBooks are not transferable. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations in articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Back Cover Copy

  Sometimes new beginnings burn bright.

  Looking for a new start, Ian Jacobs moves from Los Angeles back to the small town in Pennsylvania where he grew up. He hopes opening his own music store will help him overcome the demons of his alcoholism. He also wants to win back his ex-girlfriend, Summer. He’s still in love with her, and having her in his life could be the lift he needs to beat his addiction.

  Summer Duncan, owner of Duncan Candles, finds herself drawn back to the first man she ever loved. She resists, but love has a mind of its own and it wants Ian Jacobs. She can’t help but open her heart to him despite his addiction and the heartbreak he caused her when he left town without even saying goodbye. She’s torn between keeping him at a distance and giving him another chance.

  Little does Ian know that parts of his past unbeknownst to him are about to come to light. First, he’s almost run down by a speeding vehicle, and then he begins receiving packages with random car parts in them. Soon, Summer starts to receive them as well. When Ian learns that his father killed three people in a DUI accident, he wonders if these events are somehow related to that. Is someone out there seeking revenge against Ian for his father’s actions? And will Summer get caught in the crossfire?

  Content Warning: contains strong language, some violence, and consummated sex scenes

  Dedication

  I would like to dedicate this book to a group of women who have made my journey as an author much more enjoyable. My grammar guru and cousin Kathy Ferri, my lifelong friend and beta reader Sharil Miller, and authors Zee Monodee, Iris Blobel, Lacee Hightower, Dania Voss, and Alexa Wayne.

  Prologue

  Sometime in the Past

  His head throbbed, matching the flash of lights in rhythm. People in uniforms rushed about. Some, he knew, were policemen, while others were firemen. Some came out of ambulances.

  He and his parents had been in a terrible car accident that caused their car to flip twice and land on its roof. He’d been belted into the back seat. His parents didn’t wear theirs. Now they lay in funny angles on the inside roof. No one moved.

  He sat in the rear of an ambulance as the paramedics checked him over. The cut on his forehead was long but not deep, requiring gauze and medical tape. The paramedics said his injury wasn’t life threatening, so they left him and went to help the pregnant lady from the car that had hit them.

  She wasn’t moving as they pushed her on a gurney to an ambulance that had just arrived. They were shouting that they needed to get the baby out right away, because they were unable to find a pulse and the woman wasn’t breathing.

  She had died.

  He might’ve only been seven, but he knew what death was. Turning to look at his parents’ car, he also knew that they were dead. They hadn’t moved and the firefighters weren’t in a rush to get them out.

  A tear slid down his cheek and he swiped it away. He wouldn’t cry in front of all these people. He was a grown boy, not a baby.

  Somebody shouted. It was the man who drove the car that had hit theirs. He stumbled to the ambulance where they took the pregnant woman.

  “Letsh me seesh my wifth.” The man couldn’t speak very well. He fought with a cop that got in his way. The policeman turned the drunk man around and handcuffed him.

  The man acted like his dad when he’d drank. He walked funny and couldn’t talk right either.

  But his father didn’t drink and drive.

  “Found an open whiskey bottle.” A cop lifted his head from inside the guy’s car and hoisted an empty bottle in the air. “Get a breathalyzer ASAP.”

  More fighting, more slurred voices.

  A high-pitched cry rose above the chaos.

  The baby had survived.

  Where was the fairness in that? Another tear escaped, followed by another one. He would never see his parents again. They were gone. They’d be gone forever. Why did the man who got drunk and his kid get to live? He was sorry that the mother died, but he felt nothing for the man who’d been driving.

  His mother had once told him when a baby was born, it took the soul of someone who’d died around the same time.

  He hated the idea. He fisted his hands. Why couldn’t his parents keep their own souls and live a long life with him? What did that baby do to deserve its life?

  One of the cops running around the crash scene noticed him as he cried. The policeman sat down beside him. “My name is Officer Hank. What’s your name, son?”

  He swiped his hand under his nose. “Junior.”

  Officer Hank offered his hand.

  Junior rubbed his on his jeans and then shook the policeman’s hand. Junior’s hands then fell limp into his lap. Those tears he had been trying so hard to hold in flowed down his cheeks.

  Officer Hank put his arm over Junior’s shoulders and pulled him close.

  A few moments later, Junior’s tears slowed. He raised his head when a man in a business suit walked to them.

  “I’m Jonathan Dugan from Child Welfare. I’m assigned to this minor’s case. I’m here to take him to the hospital as a precaution. And then we’ll find this young man a place to stay.”

  Junior didn’t want to leave the police officer. “I want him to come with me.” He wished he didn’t sound like such a baby.

  “Sure, I’ll come with you, kiddo.” Officer Hank stood and helped Junior off the back of the ambulance. Together the three of them walked to a dark blue van that had been parked alongside the road.

  The sun had begun to set when they arrived at the hospital.

  Junior looked at Officer Hank and then took his hand as they walked into the hospital.

  * * * *

  “I’m right here, kiddo.” Hank squeezed the young boy’s hand.

  Junior smiled softly. “I know.”

  Hank couldn’t explain the connection he and the kid had. The child’s small hand fit his perfectly, like he was meant to protect the boy, to lead him in the right direction in life.

  Mr. Dugan stepped away from the officer and the boy to speak to the doctor.

  Hank heard the murmurs, knowing that Junior would be examined, treated, and then released into a foster care situation.

  Anger simmered through him, threatening to boil and spew. The whole situation disgusted him. Why did drunk drivers always seem to survive the crash? It made no sense to him. He was twenty-two years old and had already had the displeasure of seeing drunk driving fatalities. More often than not, the drunk driver survived.

  Wasn’t that the crux of why he was so drawn to Junior? The youngster was only a boy, having been forced by a drunkard’s hands to endure something so horrific in his short lifetime.

  “Officer Hank? Hank?”

  Mr. Dugan had said something, but he missed it.

  “Sorry.” Heat crept up his neck.

  “No problem, Officer. The doctor will examine the boy now.”

  “Can Officer Hank come with me?” Junior asked.

  Mr. Dugan glanced at Hank. “I don’t hav
e a problem with that.”

  Hank nodded and followed Mr. Dugan.

  They entered an examination room and Hank hoisted the boy onto the exam table, ruffled his hair, and stepped away as the doctor began his examination.

  “What’s going to happen to him?” Hank asked Mr. Dugan.

  “I’ll see if I can find any living relatives. If there aren’t any, he’ll go into foster care,” Mr. Dugan whispered.

  His lips formed a thin line at the thought of Junior being thrown into the system. He couldn’t let that happen. “While you’re looking for relatives, he can stay with me,” he replied, his voice a whisper as well. “And before you ask, my mother lives about ten minutes away. She’d have no issues watching him while I work. She’d pass a criminal background check with flying colors. I own my house as it was where we lived until my father passed away. I got the house because my mom wanted to live somewhere smaller. I make enough to support the two of us, so if you don’t locate any relatives, he can stay with me indefinitely.”

  “Are you sure, Officer Hank?”

  Hank glanced at Junior, who was answering the doctor’s question as he was poked and prodded.

  At that moment, he’d never been so sure about anything in his life.

  Junior would be his foster child, and if everything worked out the way he hoped, Junior would become his adopted son.

  Yes, he was quite sure.

  * * * *

  Twenty-two Years Later

  Flakes of rust fell from the dilapidated 1955 Ford F-100 pickup as Summer Duncan ran her fingers over its roughened surface. The vehicle was a shell, but she didn’t care. She recognized the innate beauty, the rounded form of it. It had sat next to her nana’s pond for as long as she could remember. Probably since 1955. Long ago, it had been rust and a greenish-blue color. It was her second favorite part of her grandmother’s property.

  A soft breeze blew over the pond, sending her hair dancing across her face. Ducks floated on the opposite side of the small body of water. Trees ringed the perimeter, casting areas into shade. Long stems and leaves of grass and millet brushed against her bare legs as she meandered to her favorite spot under a maple tree, its leaves reaching toward the sun.

  She lowered herself onto the ground, the grass creating a cushion for her bum, untied her shoes, and slipped them off. Her grandmother had left to play gin rummy with friends, leaving the property vacant for the day, save Summer sitting under the tree, blocked from view from the street.

  Temperatures in June were perfect for lazy Sundays—the only day she and her grandmother had off—at her grandmother’s pond. Especially when her nana wasn’t home.

  Summer’s life was packed with school and work, but she always made time in her life for love. A life that she hoped included Ian, her boyfriend of four years.

  They’d met their freshman year of college. She studied business management and he music production. Her grandmother had promised her candle shop to Summer with the contingency that she go to college and learn how to run a business. Ian was a musical genius, both with making music and helping others make their own music.

  He was so unlike the other boys in school. Most were clean-cut with short hair and clean-shaven faces. But not Ian.

  Torn jeans and band t-shirts was his clothing choice. Dark hair haloed his head while stubble was ever-present on his face, accentuating the angles of his jaw and the slightly squared chin.

  Ian was everything she ever wanted. At twenty-two, Summer knew she wanted to stay in Dover, finish college, work with Nana, and be close to Ian. It was her life, after all. No one else’s.

  “Hey, Summer,” a male voice said.

  “Eek!” Her heart pounded hard against her ribcage.

  “Sorry, baby. I thought you heard me coming. Admiring that rusted piece of junk?”

  “I’d love to fix one up someday. I love the curves, the solidness of it.” Summer studied him for a moment. His eyes danced with excitement, his grin as big as the Cheshire Cat’s.

  “Only you’d choose a truck over a diamond ring.” He shook his head. “Anyway, guess who I’m meeting with tomorrow in Philadelphia?” He bounded with energy, moving from side to side. “Guess.”

  Her brow rose. “I have no idea. Who?”

  “Urban Flood.”

  “Your favorite band?”

  He laughed and danced in circles. “Yes. Yes.”

  Excitement had her moving to her knees. “They liked your guitar audition?”

  “Yes.” He dropped to his knees in front of her. “I’m driving out tomorrow. I’m taking my aunt and uncle with me since my uncle will be acting as my agent. I’m going to be famous, baby. Famous!” He wrapped her in his embrace, stood, and spun her around. “Our life is going to be wonderful.”

  His mouth descended on hers. He lowered her toward the carpet of grass, pushed her onto her back, and settled his hips between her legs. The passion rose swift and all-encompassing.

  Desire clawed at her, making her body feel heavy yet light as a feather. They’d had sex before, but something inside her took over, made her breathless, made her need this. Need him. She’d lose herself in the sea of sensations he created.

  His lips left hers and kissed and nibbled her jaw, ear, and neck, sending waves of goosebumps racing over her skin. He lifted her tank top, exposing her breasts to his hungry gaze. He took a hard nipple into the heated cavern of his mouth, then blew cool air over it, making it pebble. After feasting on the other, he kissed a path down her stomach to the waistband of her shorts.

  “Need to take these off,” he said, as he undid the button and zipper, exposing her bright pink underwear. “Hips up.” He sat on his haunches, undoing his own button and zipper, freeing his erection.

  “Oh, Ian,” she murmured with a sigh.

  She lifted her hips, allowing him to remove her shorts. The warm, summer breeze teased her wet core, adding another level to the desire clawing at her, demanding to be released.

  “Ian, now,” she pled.

  He settled between her legs again, running his cock back and forth over her slick core. “God, so hot.”

  “Ian, please.”

  He entered her with one solid thrust to the hilt. Again and again he drove into her. Taking her higher, creating fire, growing hotter and hotter, spiraling closer to the peak of ecstasy. A sheen of sweat broke over her, doing nothing to quench the desire raging through her.

  “Oh, Ian.” She sighed.

  He dropped the softest kiss on her lips, sending her over the precipice. Her release crashed over her, stealing her breath, her sanity, feeling nothing but white-hot pleasure.

  Ian increased their pace, driving toward his own release, and when he reached it, he ground his pelvis against hers, until he collapsed on top of her.

  Four years ago, he’d been her first. He’d be her only.

  He took her to heights she’d only imagined existed.

  In that moment, she knew she’d never love another as much as she loved him. He had her heart, her soul, her body.

  She’d love him for the rest of her life.

  Chapter 1

  The Present

  Dover, Pennsylvania

  The chill of the late spring morning wrapped Summer Duncan in its cool embrace as she jogged across Main Street.

  A quick glance up the block proved that the majority of Dover was at Raine’s Coffee and Donuts, getting their morning jolts of caffeine and pastries. She’d be there soon enough, joining the fray, as soon as her assistant, Jolene Everhart, arrived at the store.

  Summer owned Duncan Candles, a store she’d inherited from her nana.

  Striding to her establishment, she unlocked the door and darted inside to deactivate the security system. A flick of her finger had the overhead fluorescents lit. Soft yellow-white light illuminated the area. She inhaled deeply, drawing in all the scents of candles and wax tarts. The combination of scents reminded her of a woman baking lemon sugar cookies while sunbathing on a beach in Tahiti with a bouque
t of lilacs while the tides ebbed and flowed. By closing time, she’d be used to all the smells and wouldn’t notice them anymore.

  With a smile, she walked into the storage area, deposited her designer tote bag on the ground, and her purse in the bottom drawer of her metal desk. The beat-up piece of furniture was the store’s lifeblood. Bills were paid, online orders were shipped, and special requests were processed. Summer was responsible for their stock. Every candle and wax tart was handmade and scented in the basement of the store.

  Her store wasn’t big, but it was hers. Until a year and a half ago, it had been her grandmother’s, who had turned sixty-five and retired. The store would’ve been Summer’s one way or the other. Making candles and owning a store was in Summer’s blood. She had worked under the table for Nana until she was of legal age, and then went on the books as an employee. Nana taught her everything she knew, and what Nana didn’t know about running a business, Summer learned in college.

  Returning to the sales floor, she grabbed a duster and did her daily straightening of merchandise and display stands. Three rows each of gleaming glass shelves that filled the two sidewalls of the sales floor, which were stocked with candles in a vast array of sizes, shapes, colors, and scents. The counter and cash register were tucked in the rear corner while freestanding displays filled the floor space.

  Striding to the storefront, she flipped the Closed sign to Open and went about dusting the shelves while rearranging a candle or two along the way.

  The bell above the door jingled as Jolene entered the store, purse and computer bag slung over her shoulder. “Hey, boss lady. I saw Autumn. She’d like you to stop by the old hardware store across the street before you run for coffee.”

  Autumn was one of Summer’s two sisters—the oldest at age thirty-one. In between Autumn and Summer was their brother, Colt, twenty-nine, who lived in New York City, wowing diamond buyers. Their sister, Raine, twenty-seven, owned the local coffee shop.