Ambushed by Love

by Zoe York

  Ambushed by Love

  Camp Firefly Falls Book 21

  Zoe York

  Camp Firefly Falls Books

  Contents

  Welcome to Camp Firefly Falls

  Other Camp Firefly Falls books by Zoe York

  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

  Epilogue

  Join my Facebook Reader Group!

  About the Author

  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 “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!

  Other Camp Firefly Falls books by Zoe York

  Winning Back His Wife

  Skinny Dipping Dare

  Take a Chance on Me

  www.zoeyork.com

  About This Book

  As a retirement gift, Rear Admiral Frank DeMarco has been gifted a week at an all-inclusive rustic resort in the Berkshires by his favorite Navy SEAL team. The VIP treatment is the last thing he wants, though. He has every intention to spend the week avoiding the other so-called Silver Fox campers—until one of them crawls into his bed in the middle of the night and he mistakes her for his late wife.

  Grace Bennett knows better than to get involved with a man still clearly grieving the loss of his life-long partner. But there’s something about Frank’s gruff rejection of her that tugs at her heartstrings and makes her want to be his friend. And even though he claims he’s not interested in her company, he keeps turning up everywhere she is, like a six-foot-three muscle-bound lost puppy.

  Ambushed by Love is a lighthearted and sexy opposites-attract rom com from the author of Skinny Dipping Dare and Take a Chance on Me.

  Foreword

  I’m so glad you’ve discovered Camp Firefly Falls! I love this world. If you haven’t yet read Skinny Dipping Dare, book 4 in the series, pick it up today—it’s FREE! In it you meet Tegan Bennett and Wyatt Henderson, whose wedding is what brings Grace and Frank together in this book.

  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 Grace and Frank’s story. I loved writing it.

  I also have two stories about other couples in this series. Take a Chance on Me is Grady and Priya’s story, and Winning Back His Wife started the whole thing off with Heather and Michael Tully and the Camp Firefly Falls origin story.

  ~ Zoe

  Acknowledgments

  A grateful thanks to Jeremy, my new favorite editor, and Sherry, who suggested the title for this book

  Chapter 1

  Always trust your gut. That had been Frank’s motto his entire adult life and had served him well up until a month ago, when he foolishly accepted a well-meaning gift from the Navy SEALs serving under his command.

  Frank hadn’t known what to think about the week of vacation in the Berkshire Mountains before the wedding of one of his favorite SEALs. An adult summer camp didn’t sound like his kind of thing, but that’s where Wyatt had met his bride, and it was where the wedding would take place next weekend.

  In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to decline the generous offer, so he’d flown out to the east coast a week early.

  But from the moment Frank arrived in Boston, he’d wanted to turn around and fly right back to San Diego. The feeling intensified when he got on the Camp Firefly Falls shuttle bus the next morning and was hit by a wall of pheromones and testosterone-laden side-eye from people he assumed saw him as some kind of competition for the single women who easily made up half of his fellow adult campers.

  Ha, he thought. The joke is on you guys. I’m never getting laid again.

  Which was a damn shame, given that he was only fifty-seven and his equipment worked better than it had when he was twenty-seven.

  It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in sex, either. But his partner-in-crime on that front was gone, and he wasn’t looking to replace her—ever.

  The one-year anniversary of Bianca’s death was barely behind him, anyway. Maybe one day, way down the road, he might…

  His stomach twisted as he threw himself into a seat at the very back of the camp bus.

  Nope.

  Not even if he lived to be ninety-five. He’d jack it to the sweet memory of his wife bouncing on his lap. That would be enough. It had been everything, after all.

  He flexed his hand and looked at his wedding ring.

  This was definitely a mistake.

  He appreciated what his team had been thinking—get the old man away from Coronado, away from his favorite haunts and all those memories of Bianca.

  Frank dragged in a rough breath.

  The first sign of trouble had been when the welcome package had arrived, highlighting the theme as Silver Fox week. Adult summer camp for the fifty-five-and-up set.

  He glanced at the hormone-fest playing out in front of him on the bus as they waited for the last few stragglers. The camp people should call it High School 2.0.

  Well, Frank wasn’t going to play any of those games. No drama, no making out under the bleachers.

  He turned his hand over, revealing the tattoo he’d just had done on his forearm. A breast cancer ribbon wrapped around the nickname Bia in script. It had healed well, unlike his heart.

  At the front of the bus, a camp staffer started counting heads.

  Great, maybe they could get underway. He didn’t care if they left anyone behind.

  Unfortunately, the staff person didn’t agree. “We’re just waiting for Grace,” he said pleasantly. “And then we’ll be underway.”

  “That’s me!” A blonde woman popped onto the bus, her backpack banging against the door as she waved her hand. “Sorry I’m late. I just wanted to grab some treats for the ride.” She lifted her other arm and wiggled a plastic bag which bulged from cardboard boxes inside it. “Who likes canoli?”

  Frank pulled his headphones out of his carry-on bag. He didn’t like canoli, sunshine-y personalities, or blonde women in general. He’d lose himself in music just as soon as they got under way, which was thankfully happening now.

  The camp staffer gave the word to the driver, and the bus started up. “I know everyone is eager to continue the socializing, so I’ll keep this brief. As you know, this week at Firefly Falls is sponsored by the dating site StarCrossed…” The rest of what the staffer said was lost in the dull but growing buzz in Frank’s ears. Dating site.

  How had he missed that? He wanted off this bus right the fuck now. But he wasn’t going to make a scene. He swallowed around the giant lump in his throat, jammed his headphones onto his head, and sank as low in his seat as he possibly could get.

  This was going to be the worst week of his life. He’d stick around for Henderson’s wedding because he wasn’t a jackass, but until his SEALs arrived, he was hiding from everyone.

  Grace stretched her neck one way, then the other. She may have overdone it today with all her walking carrying that beast of a backpack. But she’d heard amazing things about a bakery in the North End
, and the only thing that sounded worse than a two-plus hour bus ride with a bunch of strangers was the same without anything to eat.

  Catching the bus from Boston to Camp Firefly Falls with the other campers had not been the plan. She lived north of the camp, on a hobby farm in upstate New York where she grew lavender and heirloom perennial flowers. When her daughter, Tegan, announced she was getting married at the camp, Grace had planned to drive down for the weekend.

  But Tegan had different plans. She’d arranged for Grace to attend camp the week before the wedding as a so-called “treat” for the mother-of-the-bride.

  Grace liked the idea of camp. She just wasn’t sure how she felt about the theme of the week. She didn’t feel like she was in her fifties most of the time. Ever since her divorce nearly twenty years ago, she’d felt like age had become nothing more than an abstract, meaningless number.

  Or maybe that was simply her stubborn refusal to accept her ex-husband’s toxic framing of aging as a bad thing. Regardless, she had mixed, complicated feelings about attending senior’s week at camp, and while she enjoyed dating as much as the next single woman, she didn’t have a StarCrossed profile like the people around her.

  So, a week ago, she’d set out for a quiet road trip where she’d intended to end up in Briarsted and Camp Firefly Falls this weekend after some necessary solitude and reflection. But her car had broken down at an artisanal cheese farm in New Hampshire and she’d spent the last day and a half figuring out the best place to get it repaired without disrupting Tegan’s wedding countdown.

  The last thing she needed was to stress her daughter out with minor details like her car being stuck in Nashua.

  She’d figure out how to get back to it after the wedding.

  So she’d gone to a mall, bought the biggest backpack she could find, shoved everything she needed for camp into it, and hopped on a Greyhound to Boston, where she knew she could get on this bus, which she’d wanted to avoid in the first place.

  But that was Grace Bennett’s life in a nutshell. No matter what she did, she could never dodge the lemons. Every internet meme about life’s hard lessons making one stronger both spoke to her and infuriated her at the same time.

  Therefore, once she’d arrived in Boston, she squeezed in some sightseeing because, hello, it was Boston, and how often did she go on an adventure like this?

  Lemonade. She was a pro at mixing it up nice and sweet.

  “Canoli?” She smiled brightly at the woman sitting behind her and held out the first box. “Pass them back. I bought enough for everyone.”

  She handed the second box to the gentleman across the aisle from her, then she sank into her seat and let herself breathe.

  In and out, focusing on her heart rate. In a few hours, she’d be at camp. And then she’d find a stiff drink.

  Chapter 2

  It turned out that Camp Firefly Falls, the rustic-luxury adult re-boot version, was a fantastic place to get totally smashed.

  There were Silver Fox shots on arrival, served by a handsome young man with very broad shoulders. The drink was mostly tequila with a silvery ribbon of lemon liqueur running through it. She took a photo on her phone—making sure to capture the cute camp counsellor in the picture, too—before tipping her second one back.

  Heather Tully, the owner of the camp, came over to introduce herself. “I understand you’re Tegan’s mother,” the pretty blonde said.

  Grace wiped a touch of lemony sugar from the corner of her mouth. Excellent first impression for the mother of the bride to make. “That’s me.”

  “We’re delighted to have you here this week. If there’s anything I can do to make the next few days max-relax for you before the chaos of the wedding begins, just let me know.” The camp director winked.

  Grace laughed despite herself. “What did Tegan say?”

  “Nothing. I just remember my own wedding. Like Tegan, my wedding was quite the, uh, opposites-attract event.”

  Her hippie child was marrying a military man, and that hadn’t been where Grace’s mind had gone. Now, though… She took a deep breath. “Oh, goodness, I hadn’t even thought about that. Unless my ex counts, but he’s just opposite. No attract there, hasn’t been for two decades. But you’re right, I’m going to need all my Zen to negotiate a weekend with Navy people.”

  From behind her, there was a grunt. She turned around and caught a stern profile before the man stalked away.

  She turned back to Heather, who gave her a bright smile. “Did you get your registration packet?”

  “Not yet.” She’d gotten distracted by tequila. And young shoulders.

  “Once you pick up your cabin assignment details, we have more drinks down at the boathouse before dinner.”

  Tegan had failed to mention just how much booze was a part of the adult re-boot of her childhood summer camp. Grace’s daughter had come to Camp Firefly Falls the first year Heather re-opened it for adults. A lot of camp alumni had. Tegan had taken it to the next level, returning last year as recreation director.

  But this year, she was simply a camper again, and only for the weekend. Now Grace’s daughter’s life was squarely on the west coast, where her husband-to-be was a Navy SEAL.

  And Grace liked Wyatt very much.

  It was just so far from Saratoga Springs. From Grace, and the sweet little hobby farm she’d made their own.

  Hot tears threatened behind her eyelids and she shook her head. Nope. Of course she would cry on Saturday. Her baby was getting married. But until then? She was a single woman who hadn’t drunk anything more exciting than peppermint tea in months.

  She was going to the boathouse for the promised before-dinner drinks.

  And if dinner was mostly liquid, that was okay, too.

  Grace Bennett was cutting loose.

  Hours later, she was still quite happy with that decision, but in hindsight she should have paid more attention to the details at registration. She vaguely remembered handing her backpack to the handsome boy with the broad shoulders, and someone else giving her a packet with a cabin assignment in it. Then she…did something with that folder.

  Her tote bag!

  She’d shoved it in there.

  Now she just had to find that, which was a challenge because there were three of everything anywhere she looked. And in the hours of drinking and smiling and laughing, she hadn’t really made any new friends. Lots of acquaintances. A few who’d gotten on the bus in Boston called her Canoli Girl, which was fun. Weird, because she was fifty-four, but still fun.

  But now as darkness settled more firmly on the camp, and people paired off with their roommates—which Grace didn’t have—or frisky new friends—which Grace didn’t want—she found herself standing on the wide verandah of the main lodge. Everything was swimming around her. Furniture, people, the pretty lanterns on the wall.

  “Ms. Bennett, is this yours?” And just like that, her tote bag reappeared at the end of a muscular arm. In triplicate, but she trusted that at least one of them was the real deal.

  “Thank you,” she said, wiggling her index finger in the general direction of his muscular chest. She wasn’t entirely sure she pulled off the casual acknowledgment. So she added a super bright grin. Oh, way to play it cool, Grace.

  Tegan hadn’t told her about the booze, or the muscles. Hopefully by the end of the week she’d have gotten over her amazement at both. It wouldn’t do for her daughter to know she was so easily impressed.

  She yanked out the registration packet, ignoring how the words swam in front her eyes. She didn’t need words. Just a cabin number.

  And a map.

  Maybe some good luck, too.

  And because it had been a pretty good day, she found both. First a map, which was easy to read and follow, and then the excellent luck of her cabin being a straight shot down a path just to her left.

  The moon lit her way, and before too long she found the right cabin. It was bigger than she expected, with a wide porch and a squeaky screen door.

>   Inside, she couldn’t find a light switch.

  Oh, sweet baby Jesus, maybe there was no electricity in the cabins. She racked her brain, trying to remember what Tegan had said about roughing it in luxury. Was no electricity compatible with lux accommodation?

  Her head swam in confusion, and she decided that could be tomorrow’s question to answer.

  She looked around for her backpack, helpfully delivered by one of the handsome muscle men, but that was missing with the electricity. Maybe there was a dressing room she couldn’t find in the dark.

  Maybe she was drunk.

  Yes, oh Lord, she was definitely drunk.

  Time for bed, Grace.

  Luckily the bed was in the middle of the room, big and covered in fluffy bedding. Relatively visible compared to the darkness of everything else. She zeroed in on the edge of it as she kicked off her shoes.

  Whoa, that was hard. She wasn’t even going to worry about her clothes. Better to leave them on than find herself on the floor, banged up because she couldn’t work a button hole. She bumped against the mattress and tumbled forward, rolling under the blanket—and straight into a big, hard body, heavy enough to be weighing down the mattress.

  Panic zapped through her.

  There was someone else in her bed.

  “Bia,” the body rumbled, its voice warm and sleepy. Male. “Come here, baby. Lemme hold you. I’ll be gentle.”