Flirting with Fire: A Summer Camp Swingers novel

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Christy was running late, as usual, and she was packing for a trip, which only made things worse. So far, she’d pulled out a hanging bag for dresses, a rolling suitcase for shoes and regular clothes, and an overnight bag for all the other things she couldn’t live without—for a week.

The trip was actually two weeks, but she’d only need clothes for one of them, swim camp with Laurie. The whole family would be at the Pines for the other, where we’d only need sunscreen. Still, I knew better than to tease her. Dresses and shoes and jewelry made her happy.

“What time are you supposed to pick them up?” I said instead.

She reflexively glanced at her wrist before she scanned the nightstand and dresser.

“Bathroom counter,” I said helpfully.

She had a habit of leaving things wherever she took them off, and I had a habit of paying attention to them. I called them bunny tracks, and I could usually follow the trail to find her.

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