Skinny Dipping Dare (Camp Firefly Falls Book 4) Read online

  Skinny Dipping Dare

  Camp Firefly Falls Book 4

  Zoe York

  Camp Firefly Falls Books

  Contents

  Welcome to Camp Firefly Falls

  About This Book

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  What to Read Next

  Welcome to Camp Firefly Falls

  Are you ready for the summer? Camp Firefly Falls, a sexy sleepaway summer camp for grownups is ready for you...

  We are thrilled to announce a connected series of seven “escape from real life” stories set at Camp Firefly Falls, a fictional sleepaway camp for grownups, set in the Berkshires.

  Visit our website at www.campfireflyfalls.com to see the latest releases and sign up for our special new release alert—we’ll send you an email from camp every time there’s a new book out!

  This summer’s season kicks off with Camp Firefly Falls’ origin story—and the marriage-in-trouble romance of camp director Heather Tully. Turn the page for more information about this book!

  And at the end of this book, you’ll find a list of upcoming camp romances. The summer’s going to be hot, fun, and incredibly romantic!

  About This Book

  Navy SEAL Wyatt Henderson had signed up for a guys-only week of fishing and hiking and beer at his buddy’s favourite camp in the Berkshires. Nobody said anything about campfire songs and kitchen duty and crafts at noon. Retro Throwback Week at Camp Firefly Falls is almost enough to drive him around the bend, and that’s before the beautiful hippie in the girls' cabin next door decides he’s no fun. Tegan Bennett can’t stand the insufferable, grumpy, gorgeous military man who wakes up every morning at dawn and takes up far too much space in her general vicinity. So when he throws down a dare, she takes it—and lobs him one of his own. It’s on like Donkey Kong. Camp rules? Out the window. Along with her bikini top. Is one week at summer camp enough to turn his frown upside down and tame her wild spirit? A lighthearted, sexy, opposites attract romp complete with a midnight dining hall ice cream raid.

  Foreword

  I’m so glad you’ve discovered Camp Firefly Falls! I love this world. If you haven’t yet read Winning Back His Wife, book 1 in the series, pick it up today—it’s FREE! I co-wrote that story with Gwen Hayes to kick off the CFF adventure. In it you meet Heather and Michael Tully, who you’ll see a fair bit in this book, too.

  If you’re a new-to-me reader, nice to meet you! This story completely stands on its own inside the CFF world, but Wyatt does make a cameo appearance in Fall Dirty, book #8 in my SEALs Undone series—and if you like this story, you’ll love all of those, because it’s very similar. Big, tough military men falling hard in the most unexpected (to them) ways.

  At least one of those books is always free, so visit my website at www.zoeyork.com and check them out if you haven’t already!

  I hope you enjoy Tegan and Wyatt’s story. I loved writing it.

  ~ Zoe

  Chapter 1

  Wyatt Henderson steered his rented 4x4 out of the small town of Briarsted and followed the signs toward Camp Firefly Falls. On the seat beside him lay the email from his SEAL teammate, Grady Mills. Short on details but rich in promise, the invitation to hang at a rustic camp in the middle of nowhere was exactly what Wyatt needed after the soul-sucking assignment he’d just come off.

  He’d joined the SEAL teams to defend and protect American freedom. That commitment had never wavered. And now after a short-lived posting to the Pentagon, he was more eager than ever to get back to California. Return to a team that would be deployed overseas, hopefully sooner than later, and leave his temporary flirtation with the more political aspect of military leadership in the past where it belonged.

  His mediocre performance review taunted him from where it sank in his bag in the trunk. It was the first in his entire career. This week of leave in the woods was exactly what he needed to ensure that when he did fly home, it wasn’t with a chip on his shoulder. No internet, spotty cell service, and cold beer guaranteed every day. Add in the promise of fishing on a pristine lake and Wyatt was almost excited.

  Almost.

  He didn’t do excited, not even for beer and fishing.

  But it didn’t sound awful. High praise inside his head right now.

  He shook off the negativity, as much as he could, and focused on the drive through the climbing hills. He was west coast born and bred, but there was something quaint about the Berkshires.

  Quaint and mosquito-filled.

  He’d stocked up on bug repellent when he’d stopped at the outfitter shop in town. Bug spray, a new fishing rod, a camelback water unit that had been on sale, and two pairs of quick-dry cargo shorts. What passed for a shopping spree in his world.

  As he crested yet another hill, he spotted the sign for the camp. He turned the corner and followed the narrowing lane through the gates and into a bit of a valley. A parking lot was the first thing he came to, and it was clear he’d be expected to leave his stuff here. A tent was set up on the far side of the lot, with a big-ass Welcome sign fluttering above it, but even from this distance he could tell it wasn’t manned.

  He glanced across the empty parking lot, then down at the email. He was a bit early for registration. Two hours. Better to be early than late.

  He backed his truck into a parking spot along the perimeter and climbed out, surveying what he could see of the camp. The buildings all looked newly painted and in excellent repair. This is where Grady went to summer camp? La-di-dah, Mr. Rockefeller.

  Wyatt coughed as he swallowed yet another bitter thought. Jesus, he was glad this was a low-maintenance guys’ week in the woods. The last thing he needed was for anyone to hear the negative shit in his head right now. He wasn’t going to offend Grady or Danny Fox, the third guy in their three-man cabin. They’d just laugh at him and throw him in the lake.

  But other people?

  He hoisted his rucksack over his shoulder and grabbed his new fishing pole in his other hand.

  Lord help anyone that got in front of him this week. Wyatt Henderson’s filter was officially broken, and the only hope of it ever being repaired was a solid stretch of peace and quiet.

  He strolled past the unattended registration tent and walked up to the main lodge. A sign on the door said they’d re-open after lunch, but before he could head back to his truck, he heard the buzz of a power saw from around the corner.

  He found a tall, dark-haired man, maybe a little older than himself, working on what looked like the world’s biggest tree house behind the main lodge.

  Wyatt cleared his throat and announced his presence. “I’m a bit early. Name is Wyatt Henderson. I’m staying here with two of my buddies for the next week.”

  The other man put down the power tool and sauntered over, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you. Michael Tully. My wife Heather runs this place. I guess you figured out that nobody else is here to sign you in?”

  “Sure did. I can just hang, if this is a problem.”

  “No problem. We aim to please. Let me grab your reservation details from the lodge and I’ll show you where you’re staying. Our last batch of campers left first thing, and my wife took advantage of the free half-day to do a team-building retreat for our staff this morning.”


  That sounded like the exact kind of fresh hell Wyatt had just left behind in Washington, so he kept his trap shut and nodded.

  His home for the next week was the last cabin down a long path behind the main lodge. Remote and simple. There was even a hammock hanging on the wide porch.

  Perfect.

  “Appreciate this,” he muttered as he dumped his bag on the steps and stretched his arms up to the sky.

  Tully laughed. “It’s the least I could do. I’ll probably mess up the spiel anyway, so here’s your information packet, and once your friends arrive, just head to the main lodge if you have any questions. Dinner’s at six, and there’s a bonfire tonight.”

  “Thanks, man.” Wyatt wasn’t even listening anymore. He suddenly had plans—a date with the hammock to start. Then he was going to explore the trails behind the cabin, and find a remote access point to the lake. If all went well, tonight’s dinner would be the only one he’d attend.

  * * *

  Tegan’s best friends were chattering back and forth about what they wanted to do first when they arrived at camp, but she wasn’t really listening. Prina had offered to drive, which Tegan appreciated, because right now she was too excited to concentrate—on driving, or talking, or anything else.

  It was kind of stupid, how much she’d emotionally invested in camp being totally awesome this week.

  Except she needed awesome right now.

  She was four weeks away from being homeless.

  Eight weeks past being jobless.

  If she hadn’t already paid for this holiday—paid for it the second Heather Tully had opened registration for Retro Throwback Week and announced it in the Camp Firefly Falls Alumni Facebook group—she’d probably have backed out.

  But she couldn’t bring herself to email her childhood friend and ask for a refund.

  She didn’t want to miss this. This week might be the emotional recharge she needed to figure out where she was going in life.

  Or where she was going, period.

  She needed to get out of New York. Even if she found another job, the last three years had taught her that Tegan and the Big City didn’t mix well. She wasn’t frugal enough to figure out how to save money and still have a life. And she wasn’t urban enough to find a tribe in the concrete jungle, either.

  Other than Prina and Molly, of course.

  But Molly lived in Brooklyn and Prina spent more time flying around the world than she did in the city.

  Tegan could move to Atlanta or Paris and probably see her bestie more often, because Prina’s job as a news producer took her all over. And Molly could be convinced to move, maybe. That was high on Tegan’s agenda for this week. Convince her other bestie to ship out of the city with her and start a hippie commune somewhere cheap as chips.

  Molly could do her art there.

  And Tegan…

  Well, she could do something.

  Anything.

  God, she was desperate. But she needed to shove that thought away because camp was right around the corner.

  Her heart thumped against her rip cage. Nervous all of a sudden—what if it wasn’t amazing?—she tugged her hair out of the loose bun she’d shoved it into and re-did the twist.

  Prina patted her on the knee, her eyes never leaving the road. “This is it?”

  Tegan nodded. “Yep.”

  “Pretty drive.”

  “Yep.”

  “You need a beer when we get there?”

  Molly laughed from the backseat. “Hell yep.”

  Tegan did need a beer. But as they drove through the camp gates, and she caught her first glimpse of the sun glinting off Lake Waawaatesi in the distance, she knew she needed something else first.

  There were a few other cars in the parking lot. Most were parked close to the gate. Tucked off to one side, backed into a parking spot, was a giant SUV. She groaned to herself. Somewhere on the camp grounds was an anal-retentive blowhard with control issues.

  That’s the kind of assumption that got you into trouble at your last job. Well, she wasn’t working this week. She’d work on assuming the best of people after she’d recharged the well in every other way.

  Besides, she didn’t think the worst of people who were awesome.

  Like Heather Tully, who was sprinting across the parking lot, her arms waving in the air. “Tegan Bennett!”

  “My favorite junior camp counsellor!” Tegan hollered back, racing to meet Heather. They hugged and spun around in a circle. “I can’t believe you did this! Oh my God!”

  Tegan was five years younger than Heather, but they’d clicked hard when paired together in Tegan’s first year here, and remained buddies through the next three years until Heather outgrew camp. But they reconnected through the miracle of the internet age, and Tegan had been one of the first to join Heather’s groups when the reimagined Camp Firefly Falls was still just a gleam in her eye.

  And now it was a real-life gleaming beauty.

  “I don’t think this place ever looked this good when we were kids,” Tegan said, gesturing at the main lodge, rising up behind the registration tent. “I’m so excited about this week.”

  “Me, too.” Heather gave her another quick squeeze, then held out her hand and introduced herself to Prina and Molly. “So glad you guys could join us!”

  “Is this the first week you’ve had original campers back?” Prina asked.

  Heather nodded. “In a concentrated way, yes, although it’s amazing the reach that the camp had over the years. But this is the first dedicated week for alumni—and their friends, of course. Come on, let’s get you registered.”

  It didn’t take long, although Tegan’s attention kept sliding toward the path down to the boathouse.

  Heather clearly noticed, because she waved over a counsellor with a warm laugh. “We can take your bags up to your cabin if you want to head straight to the lake.”

  Oh yeah. Camp was going to be amazing. Tegan pulled off her t-shirt and shoved it in the side pocket on her backpack before handing it over to the super-cute-but-probably too-young-for-her staffer. “Last one in is a rotten egg!”

  Both of her friends caught up to her as she hit the dock, and when she launched herself into the air, arms wrapped around her knees, ready to cannonball into the still, clear waters, she was taken back twenty years.

  She hadn’t had a career then, either. Her entire life had stretched before her, full of potential. So what if she was a couple years into her thirties and still didn’t know what she wanted to do when she grew up?

  Maybe she’d figure that out when she came up for air.

  * * *

  Wyatt found himself whistling as he headed back towards his cabin. He’d tried the hammock, but the lake had called to him. So before Grady and Danny arrived, he’d headed off into the woods with his fishing pole and tackle box. A couple of hours of catch and release had done wonders for his mood.

  Tomorrow he’d bring a cooler with him and not come back until he had dinner for his buddies.

  Or maybe he’d take a sleeping bag with him and just not come back, period. A night under the stars sounded…well, it sounded like work, but in the good way. In the “damn, I miss the field” kind of way.

  He rolled his neck, releasing the last bit of tension with a gentle crack of his vertebrae.

  Camp.

  Who’d a thunk it? What a great idea.

  As the trees thinned around him and the sunlight grew brighter, he started to hear voices. He picked up his steps. It was beer o’clock, for sure.

  But as he emerged into the clearing behind his cabin, he faltered, because it wasn’t Danny’s growly Chicago accent or Grady’s smooth prep-school voice, either.

  No, there were decidedly female gasps and shrieks coming from his porch.

  “Wasn’t that the absolute best?” said one of them, and he came to a halt. This was awkward. Maybe if he waited, they’d go away.

  “You were right. But oh my God, I need to put some clothes on before I freeze my b
utt off.”

  Or not. Were they naked? Maybe they didn’t need to leave right away. Especially that one with the husky voice. He could think of a few things he’d like to hear her call the absolute best.

  A third voice joined in the conversation. This one was oddly familiar, polished and smooth. She sounded like a female Grady. “We’ve only got fifteen minutes before craft hour, anyway. The schedule says they’re serving vodka shots to go with the potato stamping. So let’s hustle and get back there for that.”

  Craft hour? Vodka shots? Potato stamping?

  Their voices dulled as they stepped into his cabin, and he rounded the corner, trying to recall if Michael Tully had said anything about craft hour.

  He definitely had not.

  What the everloving hell? And why were there three naked women in his cabin? Women who got giddy about potato stamping?

  “These aren’t our bags,” the polished woman said, and he climbed the stairs.

  He could see them now. Three women, all in variations of bikinis. The speaker was wearing a modest two piece. She was petite and pretty, with dusky skin and straight dark hair. South Asian, probably.

  A blonde in a much smaller bathing suit turned around, confusion painted all over her face. “Where are they?”

  And then the second brunette, the tall, stacked one poured into a sports suit that was probably meant to be functional but still gave him blood-flow problems…she held up his rucksack one-handed, and that was a feat because he had everything but the kitchen sink in that thing. “This must be the boys’ cabin,” she teased, and her voice was like hot caramel poured over ice cream. “Oops.”

  There was something about her that put him on edge. The other two seemed harmless enough, but this one…she was brash and presumptuous and seductive. Like maybe she didn’t give a fuck about boundaries or personal space. Like the next week would be a non-stop pajama party if he didn’t put a stop to this nonsense right fucking now. He stepped into the doorway and tapped his hands against the frame, making his presence known. “Yeah. That’s mine.”