That One Summer (The Summer Series)

  That One Summer

  C.J Duggan

  That One Summer

  A Summer Series Novel, Book Three

  Copyright © 2013 by C.J Duggan

  Published by C.J Duggan

  Australia, NSW

  www.cjdugganbooks.com

  First Kindle edition, published December 2013

  All rights reserved.

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.

  Disclaimer: The persons, places, things, and otherwise animate or inanimate objects mentioned in this novel are figments of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to anything or anyone living (or dead) is unintentional.

  Edited by Sarah Billington|Billington Media

  Copyedited by Anita Saunders

  Proofreading by Sascha Craig, Lori Heaford, Frankie Rose

  Cover Art by Keary Taylor Indie Designs

  This ebook formatted by White Hot Ebook Formatting

  Author Photograph © 2013 C.J Duggan

  That One Summer is also available as a paperback at Amazon

  Contact the author at [email protected]

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Also By C.J Duggan

  Dedication

  Praise For

  Quote

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty- Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Epilogue

  Read More

  Coming Soon

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Also by C.J. Duggan

  The Boys of Summer

  An Endless Summer

  Look out for

  Someone Like You

  Forever Summer

  The Anita Bowman Diaries

  www.cjdugganbooks.com

  Dedicated to Jenny.

  We met under the most extraordinary of circumstances,

  that has now grown into the most extraordinary of friendships.

  PRAISE FOR

  The Boys of Summer

  Summer Lovin'

  This book kept me up until the wee hours of the morning because I literally could not force myself to put it down – I just had to know what happened. Everything about The Boys of Summer absolutely blew me away.

  Claire – Claire Reads

  Best Contemporary Read of your Life

  I cannot begin to describe the love I have for this book. The Boys of Summer is a story about self-discovery and first true love that will stay with you for a long time after you read it.

  Hannah – A Girl in a Café

  Fun, Flirty, Fantastic

  All in all, if you're looking for a lovable and intense read, then this is for you. C.J Duggan has convinced me she belongs in the contemporary market and I cannot wait to read more from her.

  Donna – Book Passion for Life

  An Australian Gem

  You won't regret buying this one; you'll totally fall in love with the story and all of the characters. C.J Duggan knows how to write a book you'll just be drawn into! I'm already waiting for the next one – impatiently, might I add! The Boys of Summer is an Australian gem!

  Seirra – Dear, Restless Reader

  Simply Perfect

  Everything about The Boys of Summer was fantastic!!! C.J Duggan has written an amazing story and she was able to perfectly capture the Aussie summer, fun times with friends both new and old, and all the feelings of falling in love with the boy of your dreams. Bring on book two!!!

  Tracey – YA Book Addict

  Sweet, Intoxicating, Exciting

  The Boys of Summer is a wonderful example of just how deliciously sexy, sweet and charming summer-fling books can be! A book that gives you goose bumps, makes you swoon over its incredibly handsome male cast, gets you hooked on the clever plot line and, ultimately, sends you out feeling all warm inside, satisfied and with a wide smile on your face.

  Evie – Bookish

  “Always remember to be happy because you never know who’s falling in love with your smile.”

  - Anon

  Chapter One

  Christmas night, 1999

  Honestly! Whose idea was this anyway?

  My hands slid along the hallway plaster, my only guide in the pitch blackness. One tentative foot in front of the other, I slowly skimmed along the carpet.

  The only thing that pierced the silence was the faint calling from downstairs.

  “87-cat-and-dog-88-cat-and-dog …”

  Oh crap!

  I shuffled along more urgently, my fingers scrabbling along the wall, hands searching faster. I was nowhere I wanted to be, that was for sure. Not that I knew where I was, exactly. Even in the long, dark hall I knew I was way too exposed.

  I was too old for this.

  My searching hands dipped into an alcove. Ah-ha! The feel of glossy moulded panels caused my pulse to race. Blindly, I fumbled at the new sensation under my fingertips, my heart skipping a beat when my palm brushed … a handle?

  Eureka! A door.

  “99-cat-and-dog-100 … Ready or not, here I come!”

  Oh my God! Please open, please open.

  Grabbing the handle, I wasn’t sure what I feared the most – the door being locked or the sound of the handle twisting.

  I braced my hand on the panel. Pushing inward, the door gave way but my relief was short-lived as it let out a painfully loud creak. I paused, frozen with the tension of possibly being discovered. Had I given myself away? I panicked as heavy footsteps sounded on the staircase, closing the distance. My eyes widened.

  “One, two, Freddie’s coming for you … Three, four, better lock your door.” His voice sing-songed taunti
ngly up the stairs.

  I threw caution to the wind and opened the door quickly, slipped through and shut it gently behind me with a click they probably could have heard in China. I winced at the sound and stood still.

  Trying to control my breathing, I abandoned the door behind me, edging into the room; the all-consuming darkness was disorientating. I flailed my arms outward like a deranged zombie and stopped abruptly when my knees hit the edge of a … bed? My fingertips rested on the spongy surface, anchoring myself.

  Yep, a bed, that’s great. What now?

  The footsteps made their way slowly down the hall and my mind raced in a panic-fuelled flurry.

  The footsteps stopped outside the door. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” the voice from the hall called.

  My instinct was to dash back to the door, press myself up against it and prevent him from entering and catching me. But before I made the move, something grabbed my elbow, spinning me around. My shocked scream was quickly muffled by a hand that clasped across my mouth, the other hand pulling me close.

  “Shhh,” a voice breathed, so close that their breath parted my fringe.

  With wide eyes and flared nostrils, my laboured breathing was the only thing that wasn’t frozen. I tried to fight against the iron-like grip, but it only got me another “Shhh”, and an aggravated one, at that. The silhouette in front of me tilted his head, listening to the sounds of the footsteps outside. They were so close, but it wasn’t the sound that made me fear he was right outside the door. A flash of light danced momentarily under the door crack.

  A torch? That was cheating!

  I could feel the shudder of a suppressed laugh through his torso as I remained where he’d pinned me, pressed against the silhouette.

  “Cheeky bastard,” the voice whispered.

  A whisper isn’t the easiest way to identify a person in the dark. I reached up instinctively and gripped my fingers around his arm, trying to get him to remove his hand from my mouth. Before I could struggle further, he slowly moved his hand, but not before pressing his finger onto my lips as if accentuating the need for silence.

  I wasn’t an idiot.

  The light had moved on from the door, and the footsteps receded down the hall. With the coast clear, I was about to lash out at the dark figure, but before I had the chance, I flinched as a hand unexpectedly clasped mine. I was yanked through the darkness – roughly yanked forward and manoeuvred into a new space. Hangers clanked and I squinted my eyes closed as clothing hit my face. Then the sliding panel of the closet shut behind me.

  Behind us, I mean.

  “We’re in a wardrobe,” the voice whispered.

  No shit, Sherlock!

  The stuffy interior gave a new meaning to blackness. In times like these I instinctively wanted to light a match, if I had one. Not that it was the greatest idea, surrounded by so much cotton in such a confined space. It would really give a whole new meaning to ‘Murder in the Dark’.

  Murder in the bloody Dark.

  The silhouette was no longer a silhouette or a shadow; there was only blackness. I couldn’t see a thing. The only knowledge I had of his presence was the heat that pressed against my arm in the confined space.

  Unlike the dirty cheat Ringer who had somehow found himself a torch, all the better to hunt us down with in the not-so dark, I didn’t have a source of light. On the one and only day that the Onslow Hotel was closed to the public we had all agreed to meet up for some late night Christmas drinks. After a full day spent with an annoying, loud, extended family and a belly full of Christmas food, it was a welcome refuge of sorts to hang out in the quiet bar. Until Amy’s bright idea of: “Let’s play Murder in the Dark.”

  My best friend, Amy, grew up here so I would often find myself perched at the Onslow bar after all the drunks had been herded, stumbling out the door. Ever since Amy had come home this summer and we had reconnected our friendship, I had found myself not just with my high school best friend back, but a whole new group of friends that came with her. For the first summer since, wow, I was sixteen, I was hanging with my best friend, and strangely enough ‘the Onslow Boys’.

  Huh, I was hanging out all right. That was when I realised that I was actually pressed up against an Onslow Boy right now.

  But which one?

  Alone in the dark with an Onslow Boy. Most girls’ prayers would have been answered. The jury was still out for me.

  Seeing as the annoyed whisperer had forbidden me to speak (even though it seemed he was obviously allowed to), I reached out and found his shoulder. I patted my way across his collarbone, neck, chin, cheek, lips – soft lips – nose … gently touching the contours of a freshly shaven face. Hmm … nice cheekbones. I momentarily wondered who it was, but as my fingers traced the creases deeply etched above his eyes, I knew instantly.

  I smiled, dropping my hand.

  “Hello, Chris!

  Chapter Two

  A blinding light pierced the darkness.

  Chris squinted in the harsh light, his broody face lit by the luminous rays from his mobile screen. “How did you know it was me?”

  I winced against the foreign light, pushing it away.

  “It was easy. No one has a frown quite like you.”

  As if on cue his frown deepened, the phone highlighting his face like a nightmare. Of all the Onslow Boys to be trapped with it had to be the moody one.

  “You know, that light would have been handy about five minutes ago,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, he would have found us for sure, then,” he said, his attention fully focused on his screen as he thumbed through his messages. His serious expression was unchanged.

  “Well, hiding in a wardrobe isn’t exactly a genius plan.”

  His eyes flicked up. “Really?” he deadpanned.

  I shrugged. “It’s the first place I’d look.”

  Chris lowered his phone, the light still filling the small space. “I suppose you have a better idea, then?”

  I straightened, suddenly feeling exposed by the light, and Chris’s expectant, cold stare.

  “Well … anywhere would be better than here.”

  With you.

  Chris stared at me for an unnervingly long time; I kind of hoped the screen would flick off and plunge us both back into darkness again.

  The only movement that had me believing that Chris wasn’t cast of stone was the slight tilt to the corner of his mouth. He reached out and slid the door open.

  “After you.” He motioned with a sweep of his hand.

  “Sorry?” My eyes widened.

  “You think you have a better place; lead the way then.”

  Oh crap.

  I lifted my chin and slid past him out through the opening while his mobile’s screen was still lit and I could see where I was going.

  It was short-lived, though. Just as I was about to get my bearings, the light shut off – or, more to the point, Chris had deliberately pocketed his phone.

  Idiot.

  I was back to square one, edging my way across the foreign space until my legs hit the edge of the bed. Again.

  Okay, what now?

  Just as my serious lack of a plan was about to be exposed, Chris tapped me on the shoulder.

  “Shhh …”

  What? I didn’t say any… Uh-oh …

  Footsteps thudded their way back down the hall. Before I had the chance to so much as panic, Chris pushed me to the carpet. I blindly followed Chris who was frantically sliding under the bed; he pulled me under next to him so fast I was surprised I didn’t get a carpet burn.

  My heart thundered against my ribcage and a new fear spiked inside me, pumping adrenalin through my body. My breathing was hard and frantic, but that had nothing to do with the footsteps outside.

  It was seeming impossible not to breathe right in Chris’s face.

  Well … this was awkward.

  I was so intimately wedged up next to Chris I could feel the press of his lips on my brow. His left arm was trapped un
der my body, his other hand rested on my shoulder blade. My palms were pressed against his chest; I could feel the erratic beat of his heart slamming violently against my hands.

  I swallowed deeply. Now wasn’t a good time, but hey, we were under a bloody bed. I was sure my whisper wouldn’t be heard outside.

  “Chris? Do you think you could move over a bit?” I whispered into his neck.

  He breathed out loudly. “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  His fingers touched my lip again, probably necessary, but nevertheless infuriating.

  “I WILL FIND YOU. IT’S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME,” Ringer shouted, his steps echoing as he jogged down the hall. The torch beam flashed on the floor outside as he passed. Chris’s body physically sagged with relief.

  “Good ol’ Ringer, he isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed,” Chris chuckled.

  I shook my head in disbelief. “Hasn’t he found anyone? How is that possible? Not even with a torch?”

  “I think we’ll be safe here for a bit,” said Chris.

  “Don’t be so sure,” I mused.

  “Why?”

  “Under a bed, Chris? I mean, really?”

  “Oh for … What is it now?”

  “It’s the second worst hiding spot you could think of.”

  Chris shifted, but all it did was draw him closer. “I didn’t see you find any place better.”

  “You didn’t exactly give me a chance.”

  Chris scoffed. I could feel him flex his hand under my collarbone; no doubt my weight on top of his arm was cutting off his circulation. My body lay flush against him, my chest pressed up against his. I could feel every breath, every pulse, every beat of him. I cleared my throat.