See You Sometime
Divorced from her Master husband of fifteen years, Skye moves back to Sarasota to live with her parents and rebuild her life. New job, new kinky friends, and she reconnects with her D&D buddies from high school. Including her old boyfriend, Axel.
Axel’s been divorced for a couple of years and realizes he’s pretty much given up on dating. He also knows most of his D&D friends are kinky, and they assume he’s a straight-laced guy. When Skye returns to his life, he doesn’t dare hope there might be a possibility they can make things work now that they’re all grown up. Or can they?
Sometimes, the second chance is the sweetest…and the one best able to destroy you. Axel soon realizes if he can’t figure out how to give Skye what she needs, there are plenty of guys who will. But if he has to say good-bye to her a second time, he’s not sure his heart will recover.
Genre: BDSM, Contemporary
Length: 55,593 words
SEE YOU SOMETIME
Suncoast Society
Tymber Dalton

Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
SEE YOU SOMETIME
Copyright © 2017 by Tymber Dalton
ISBN: 978-1-64010-510-2
First Publication: August 2017
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2017 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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DEDICATION
To Hubby, and to Sir. And thanks to buddy and fellow author Max Valentonis, for the extra set of eyes on my D&D stuff.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tymber Dalton is the wild-child alter-ego of author Lesli Richardson. She lives in the Tampa Bay region of Florida with her husband (aka “The World’s Best Husband™”) and too many pets. Active in the BDSM lifestyle, the two-time EPIC award winner is also the bestselling author of over one hundred books, including The Reluctant Dom, The Denim Dom, Cardinal’s Rule, the Suncoast Society series, the Love Slave for Two series, the Triple Trouble series, the Coffeeshop Coven series, the Good Will Ghost Hunting series, the Drunk Monkeys series, and many more.
She loves to hear from readers! Please feel free to drop by her website and sign up for updates to keep abreast of the latest news, views, snarkage, and releases. You can also find all of her Siren-BookStrand releases under all four of her pen names on her author page on the BookStrand site.
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AUTHOR’S NOTE
We briefly met Skye in Walk Between the Raindrops. Axel has made a couple of minor appearances in A Roll of the Dice and Initiative. Bob was first introduced in Cardinal’s Rule.
While all the books in the Suncoast Society series are standalone works which may be read independently of each other, the recommended reading order to avoid spoilers and to not miss any backstory information is as follows:
1. Safe Harbor
2. Cardinal’s Rule
3. Domme by Default
4. The Reluctant Dom
5. The Denim Dom
6. Pinch Me
7. Broken Toy
8. A Clean Sweep
9. A Roll of the Dice
10. His Canvas
11. A Lovely Shade of Ouch
12. Crafty Bastards
13. A Merry Little Kinkmas
14. Sapiosexual
15. A Very Kinky Valentine’s Day
16. Things Made Right
17. Click
18. Spank or Treat
19. A Turn of the Screwed
20. Chains
21. Kinko de Mayo
22. Broken Arrow
23. Out of the Spotlight
24. Friends Like These
25. Vicious Carousel
26. Hot Sauce
27. Open Doors
28. One Ring
29. Vulnerable
30. The Strength of the Pack
31. Initiative
32. Impact
33. Liability
34. Switchy
35. Rhymes With Orange
36. Beware Falling Ice
37. Beware Falling Rocks
38. Dangerous Curves Ahead
39. Two Against Nature
40. Home at Last
41. A Kinkmas Carol
42. Ask DNA
43. Time Out of Mind
44. Happy Valenkink’s Day
45. Splendid Isolation
46. Similar to Rain
47. Happy Spank Patrick’s Day
48. Fire in the Hole
49. Pretzel Logic
50. This Moody Bastard
51. Walk Between the Raindrops
52. Rub Me Raw
53. Any World That I’m Welcome To
54. Heartache Spoken Here
55. Roll With the Punches
56. See You Sometime
Some of the characters in this book appear in or are featured in previous books in the Suncoast Society series. All titles available from Siren-BookStrand.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
About the Author
Author's Note
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
Landmarks
Cover
SEE YOU SOMETIME
Suncoast Society
TYMBER DALTON
Copyright © 2017
Chapter One
You gotta be shittin’ me.
Skye Bauer stared at the cloud of steam rolling out from under the open hood of the overheating engine of the rental box truck.
Said rental box truck which currently held all her worldly possessions.
She stared up at the blue Atlanta-ish sky and screamed as southbound traffic merrily whisked by her on I-75, the wind from their passing whipping stray strands of her long, curly red
hair that had escaped her ponytail holder.
She screamed.
And screamed.
And…
Screamed.
This was the latest in a string of mishaps to plague her as she made her permanent break from one Kelly—short for Kellog—Carling of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
Here she thought she was finally—finally!—home free, next stop Sarasota, and…
Bam.
She screamed again, walked around to the passenger side, and kicked the damn front tire with her right foot.
Which made her scream again, this time in pain, as she caught her outer ankle on the edge of the fender, whacking it good.
“Son of a bitch!”
Barksley, her fuzzy little mop of a dog, watched her from inside the cab, his feet up on the door, nose pressed against the window and his tongue hanging out as he panted in excitement.
Mom looks like she’s having fun!
She limped around in a circle for a minute before carefully making her way to the driver’s side and getting in. With her luck, she’d get plowed into by a damn semi at this rate. At least this section of the interstate south of Atlanta had a wide shoulder. She’d pulled the truck over all the way onto the grass past the concrete. If worse came to worst, she could unload her car, which was on a hauler behind the truck and also full of stuff, and drive it.
After calling the 800 number on the rental agreement and reporting her problem, she flipped on the emergency flashers, rolled down the windows, wrapped Barksley’s leash around her hand so he didn’t try something stupid like jumping out, and shoved her seat as far back as it would go to wait for a tow.
Her first divorce attorney had died—only three days after Skye had filed for divorce.
He’d been highly recommended and reasonably priced.
He’d also had a part-time secretary who did little more than take phone messages for him.
And he hadn’t had a business partner in his practice.
Meaning she’d had one hell of a time getting her paperwork from the guy’s family so she could get another attorney to take over without losing all the money she’d already paid.
It was bad enough they wouldn’t give her at least a partial refund minus the filing fees.
Then the first process server, who’d already been hired and paid by the old attorney, got carjacked before he could serve her ex.
The day of the first hearing before the judge, it was postponed due to the courthouse being closed down from a water main break.
The postponed hearing was postponed again because of an escaped prisoner from one of the criminal courtrooms putting everything on lockdown, no one in or out, including her, her attorney, and Kelly—short for Kellog—and his attorney, who were caught outside the cordon area.
Natch.
The divorce had finally—finally!—gone through, and then she’d lost her job a week later as a medical biller for a doctor’s office because the good doc got popped in a child sex sting operation.
I can really pick ’em.
So when her mom had said, “Come home to Sarasota,” Skye quit trying to find reasons to stay in Pennsylvania and be “independent.”
Fuck that shit, sideways, with a rusty spork.
She wanted her mom and dad, and was beyond giving any fucks who knew it.
Having hit the big four-oh a few weeks back, and spending it alone and getting her dog’s fur all snotty from crying, wasn’t merely rock-bottom.
It was a screaming beacon from the Universe that she never should have fallen for Kelly—short for Kellog—Carling, drop-dead Dom or not.
Damn sure never should have married him.
Double damn sure never should have stayed with him for fifteen years, especially after realizing what a superlative douchey damn Dom he was, cheating sleazeball extraordinaire.
Thank god I didn’t have kids with him.
* * * *
It took the wrecker an hour to get there, and when it did, it was too small to hook up to the truck.
Of course.
So she had to wait while he called in a bigger wrecker to get the truck. Luckily, he unloaded her car for her, because he’d haul the hauler while the bigger wrecker got the truck. The company had already moved another truck, slightly bigger than this one, to the facility they were towing her to so she could…
Fuck.
Me.
Unload and reload the truck.
She’d paid the college guys renting the townhouse next door to help her move. She’d boxed everything up, neatly labeled, and tagged the furniture going, which was most of it. It was one of the few things the prenup had stipulated she could have free choice of in the divorce, and by-fucking-god she’d opted to take as much of it as she could cram into a goddamned moving truck, because Cheaterhead Cheapskate Carling damn sure would have a heart attack when he looked at price tags while trying to replace it.
It’d been one of the few things he’d given her free rein on during their marriage, and he hadn’t cared how much it cost. It made him look good and reflected well upon him, which was all that mattered.
And two hours later, as she sat on the warm parking lot concrete and stared at the two trucks she’d have to unload and load, and cried into Barksley’s fur again, her dad tried to calm her down on the other end of the phone from Sarasota.
“Honey, is there anyone there who can help you?”
“Just the wrecker guys, but I’m down to less than a thousand in my account, and I still need gas money to get this thing to Florida, and—”
“Offer to buy them pizza and beer or dinner or something. Sweetheart, this will be okay.”
At least she had a job waiting for her in Sarasota, even if she would be moving in with her ’rents until she could get back on her feet.
They unhooked her moving truck from the wrecker and backed the replacement up to it, only a couple of feet between them.
The first wrecker guy who’d responded walked over once she’d ended her conversation with her dad and she sat there, still sniffling.
“Ma’am, are you okay?”
She started to nod, but it turned into a shake of her head, then more snot-sobbing tears that probably had the poor guy afraid for her.
Or maybe for himself.
She started bawling, babbling about Kelly—short for Kellog—and her battlefield of a divorce, and how her life was shit…
Then he knelt in front of her and smiled. “Honey, it’s okay. I have a daughter about your age. What are you, twenty-nine? Thirty? It gets easier. We’ll help you move your stuff over. You don’t have to pay us.”
She stared at him in shock and then started crying again, overwhelmed by his generosity.
And blown away that he thought she was only thirty.
* * * *
While they did that, she walked across the road and bought the men a couple of pizzas and several two-liters of soda from the pizza and sub place. Fortunately, no one in the restaurant yelled at her for Barksley clutched in her arms.
Must have been the umpteenth teary retelling of her life’s disaster plot to the poor girl who took her order that did it.
Anyways, it got her super-fast service and out the door in probably record time.
Two hours later, Skye sat behind the wheel of the replacement truck, her Lexus once again secured to the car hauler, and drove toward I-75. Her plan had been to get to Sarasota by dark, get her bed out and set up, collapse, and unload into her parents’ garage and a rented storage unit the next morning with her father’s help.
The bed would have to stay in the truck tonight. Even if it meant she slept on the floor.
At least they’d given her an extra day’s free rental on the truck for her trouble.
It was after dark when she crossed the Florida-Georgia line and pulled off into the welcome center rest area. She walked Barksley and bought herself a dinner of stale vending machine chips and a lukewarm Mountain Dew.
Dinner of champions.
Then
she called her parents to update them on her progress.
“So you’re probably less than five hours away now, honey,” her dad said. “That’s good. And the traffic will be easier to navigate this late.”
“I guess.”
“Take a deep breath. You’ve got this.”
“I don’t feel like I got it. I think those poor tow truck guys probably thought I’d lost my mind.”
“Well, considering what you’ve been through, most people already would have. How’s our granddog?”
She reached over and petted the mop. “Ready to meet a groomer who will shave him so he doesn’t sweat his non-existent balls off this summer.”
Barksley weighed around fifteen pounds, and she suspected about five of that was fur.
“Your mother already lined one up.”
“Will they take IOUs in payment?”
“We can spring for the first one or two visits. It’s where we take Dildo.”
“Dad! Please tell me you did not name your new dog that?”
“It’s the cat. Dilbert, Dildo, close enough.”
“No it’s not!” her mother yelled in the background.
Skye finally laughed.
“Ha,” he said, sounding more than a tad triumphant. “Made you laugh.”
“Yes, you did. You always do.”
“Kind of my job. Get back on the road. Drive safely, kiddo. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Dad. Hug Mom for me.”
“Oh, I’m going to do way more than that to her before you get here.”
“Dad!”
“Well? It’s my last chance to run around the house naked until—”
“Bye, Dad!”
He was laughing as she ended the call.
Then again, so was she. Wasn’t the first time he’d teased her like that.