The Danger With Fireworks (Holiday Romance Book 3) Page 2

  “Clint,” Shelly replied.

  I wiped the moisture from my forehead as I lamented leaving my hat back in the cabin. “Is he always this late?”

  “Usually,” she mumbled while looking at the ground. But she wasn’t being rude; I think I intimidated her. It felt strange, because I’d never intimidated anyone in my life.

  “Well,” I pushed, willing there to be a reason for his tardiness, even if it was a bad one.

  “Is he super disorganized or something?”

  “Not really.”

  “Hmpfh.” I pulled my shirt away from my body a few times, pushing air through to cool myself off. “So he’s just a jerk, then?”

  Shelly didn’t say anything, but the corner of her mouth tipped up. After another couple of minutes, I started to walk away so I could find a tree to sit under. But I only made it a few feet before a murmur rippled through the group. I turned back around and saw a guy walking toward the flagpole. Scratch that. He was swaggering toward the flagpole.

  “Hey, everyone, I’m Clint.” He waved, and his smile beamed. It was big and toothy and looked utterly fake. “Sorry I’m late.” Late? Five minutes is late. Twenty minutes—that was downright rude. I was so miffed I didn’t even want to hear his excuse. “Holy cow!” He whistled and fanned himself with his hand. “It’s a scorcher today, isn’t it?”

  I folded my arms over my chest and muttered, “You think?” I’d said it softly, but Shelly heard anyway. Her shoulders bounced ever so slightly.

  Clint had that classic magazine thing going on: chiseled jaw, bleached blond hair falling in his face, tanned skin. His stance, paired with his board shorts and flip-flops, said, I don’t need to care because I’m that good-looking. He grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up to wipe off his face. One glance at the girls—who were quite possibly drooling—and I knew he’d only done it to show off his abs. I bet he hadn’t even been sweating. What a douche.

  I changed my mind. Now I was interested in his reason for being late. If the guy wanted my respect, he better have been doing CPR on a drowned squirrel or something. I waited for him to explain, but he only grinned wider and asked, “How about we take this into the lodge?”

  My face got hot, and it wasn’t from the sun. I looked at Shelly and hissed quietly, “You mean we could have been waiting in the air conditioning this entire time?”

  Shelly shrugged, and her face scrunched up in a sour pout. “I guess. That sucks.” She’d been checking Clint out just like the rest of the girls, but at least she seemed annoyed. And she said four whole words, so that was something.

  The lodge felt more like it belonged at a resort than a summer camp. The ceiling was vaulted, and wooden beams spanned from one side to the other. On the end with the kitchen, the wall was covered in windows. Hand-carved wooden banquet tables and benches sat below the glass, basking in the natural light. The other side of the building had a decent-size stage and padded seats for the audience. There was a whiteboard set out, and Clint walked us to the first row of chairs, motioning for us to take a seat.

  “Let’s start over here with the introductions.” He pointed to the opposite end from where I sat between Shelly and the only other guy. After Dave shared where he was from and what his concentration was, Clint turned to me with a scrutinizing look. It was subtle, but he was definitely sizing me up. “That must make you Garland.” He oozed phony pleasantry.

  “Yep,” I replied lazily, trying to hide the fact that I was surprised he knew who I was. “That’s me.” I relaxed back into my chair with a casual vibe and an expression that said he’d failed to impress me. Clint smirked. Message received.

  “The way Chloe described you, I pictured someone a little more…” He paused, and his smirk grew. “…imposing.”

  Imposing? My first thought was to wonder exactly what Chloe had said. But I didn’t have time to dwell on that since Clint was basically calling me a wimp. So my abs weren’t quite as sculpted as his. I easily had four inches and twenty pounds on the guy. My jaw clenched, but no matter how badly I wanted to give him a snide retort, I didn’t want him to know he’d gotten to me.

  I shrugged with one shoulder. “I’m tall and broad, but I’m just too chill to be imposing.” It came out way cockier than I’d intended. What was wrong with me? I sounded almost as douchy as he did.

  Clint was clearly amused by me, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he turned to Shelly. “Hey, Shell-bell. You’ve finally graduated to counselor.” He blasted her with a megawatt smile. To Clint’s credit, it looked sincere when aimed at Shelly. To Shelly’s credit, it didn’t seem to have the same effect on her as it did on all the other girls.

  The next hour was filled with a lecture on protocols like daily routines, safety procedures, behavioral expectations, and offenses that were likely to get us in trouble. “Now for the most important part,” Clint said soberly. “Under no circumstances are you to be alone with a camper, especially one of the opposite sex. This goes for male and female counselors. Do not engage in romantic relations—or anything that could be misinterpreted as romantic—with a camper. I don’t care if you’re barely eighteen and the other person is seventeen and eleven months. I don’t care if it’s consensual. I don’t care if he or she was your boyfriend or girlfriend this morning when you left home. As of now, you are staff, and your relationship with campers is strictly professional. Everyone clear?”

  There was a chorus of yesses and head nods. He was so passionate that I was beginning to believe he might actually have a moral compass. Until the next words left his mouth. “Now, when it comes to relationships between staff members…” He trailed off for a second. “Well, you’re all adults, so everyone’s fair game.” He winked at the three girls to my left. I loathed winkers. One of them giggled, and I wanted to vomit. Clint officially had my nomination for creep of the year.

  After the training, he took us on a tour. Singing Oak’s amenities were impressive. Parents must be spending a fortune to send their kids here for eight weeks. The property was arranged in a big rectangle. An open grassy area sat in the middle, containing the flagpole and a large fire pit. The lodge was on the eastside, and on the west was an outdoor amphitheater.

  The south end of the common area had four small buildings: a computer lab for the writers, recording suite with dope acoustics for the musicians, and studios for the artists and dancers. (The actors worked in the lodge on the stage). On the north end of the quad, there was a gigantic rec room with ping-pong, pool, multiple tables and board games, plush sofas and chairs, a movie projector with a giant screen, and a kitchenette for making snacks.

  A wooded trail looped the outside of the property. Little paths sprouted off here and there, leading to all the cabins, which were speckled around the perimeter. As if that wasn’t enough, a small lake lined the far edge of the property. It had a short, sandy beach and a long dock. A handful of canoes were tied to the support pillars.

  “Wow,” I said to myself while I surveyed the glassy blue water, sparkling in the sunlight. Shelly and I had walked down the wooden planks to the edge. The lake was calling my name, loudly enough that I almost jumped in. I was a swimmer, so for me, this was paradise.

  She glanced up at me from under the wide, floppy brim of her straw sun hat. A smile danced on her lips. “This place is pretty great, isn’t it?”

  I gasped playfully. “Was that a full sentence!?”

  She smiled. “I do talk, you know. When there are things worth talking about.”

  I smiled back. “Not into small talk. I can appreciate that.”

  Her eyes twinkled, and a tiny dimple appeared. “I love Singing Oak. It might be my favorite place in the whole world. I always knew I’d come back as a staffer as soon as I graduated. I’d work here forever, if I could.”

  I’d only been here for half a day, and already I agreed. “Maybe you could take Vivian’s job someday?” I suggested.

  She sighed wistfully. “That’s highly unlikely. Vivian’s family has owned this prope
rty for three generations. Her grandfather bought the empty land, then built everything here. Some of it himself. This place was his dream. Viv’s parents ran the camp for twenty years before handing it over. Her kids will have this place eventually—if she ever settles down.”

  I shoved my hands in my pockets and rocked back on my heels. Without taking my eyes off the lake, I replied, “Okay, then. You can have Clint’s job. I’m certain you could manage things better than him. Or, at least, more punctually.”

  Shelly erupted in a hearty laugh. “I’ll support that plan. Clint’s an awful manager.”

  “See? I knew I wasn’t being overly critical.”

  She shook her head. “No, you’re not. He’s a great dad, but his boss skills are lacking.”

  “He was your dad?” My eyebrows inched up. That would explain the familiarity and look of fondness when he spoke to her. Though, I had a feeling everyone looked at Shelly that way.

  “Yep. He’s actually from the same town as me. We went to high school together and were campers here at the same time. But he was a senior when I was a freshman, so we never really talked back then. He joined the staff when I was a sophomore, and when I was a junior, he was my family dad. Then he got promoted to assistant director last year, which surprised everyone. It’s common knowledge that Clint’s a bit loose when it comes to enforcing the rules.”

  “Why’d he get the job if he sucks so bad?”

  “He doesn’t suck.” She corrected me while holding back a smile. “But he does have Viv wrapped around his little finger.” She paused to ponder. “He basically has everyone wrapped around his little finger.”

  “Not everybody,” I grumbled, motioning to myself. “I guarantee there will be no wrapping here.”

  Shelly giggled, but the sound died out quickly as she stiffened, and her smile was replaced by a pleading expression. “Please don’t anyone tell that I said he was a bad boss.”

  I held out my fist. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  Her posture relaxed. She hesitantly returned my fist bump. “Thanks.”

  I went back to my cabin for a while and lay on my bed, leafing through the staff handbook and enjoying the calm before the storm. Over a hundred high school kids would be showing up tomorrow, and I had a feeling all hell would break loose. The images of chaos running through my brain were disrupted by my growling stomach. I looked at the old-school digital alarm clock on the dresser. It flipped to five thirty, and a loud bell rang in the distance.

  There was a pounding knock on my screen door, and then Chloe let herself in without waiting for an invitation. “Dinner time!” she called excitedly, walking to my bed and smacking my feet. “Come on, get up. This is one meal you don’t want to miss. Benji always makes macaroni and cheese for the staff on our first night back.”

  I perked up. “Mac ‘n’ cheese, huh? You know Evan’s mom makes the best mac ‘n’ cheese on the planet, right?” I doubted Chloe had ever met Evan’s mom, but Abby had.

  “Yes, yes, so I’ve heard. Abby raves about it.” Chloe grinned. “But Abby’s never had Benji’s macaroni. And his really is the best on the planet.”

  I stood and slipped on my sandals. “Yeah, well, I’ll be the judge of that.”

  Chloe bounced out of the room and down the steps, yelling, “Marissa, Shelly, get your cute butts down to dinner.” She skipped along the trail so fast, I knew I couldn’t catch up without jogging, so I decided to wait for the other girls instead.

  Shelly emerged from their room first, in a cute knee-length sundress. She was blonde, fair-skinned, and dainty, much like a porcelain doll. Marissa was her visual anthesis. She had sharp features, an athletic build, and was decked out in all black: shorts, tank top, knee-high socks, sneakers, and lacy, fingerless gloves. Her purple hair was cut into a bob and pulled back by a headband with a giant black bow. She wore two earrings in her left ear, four in her right, a bar through her eyebrow, and a small stud in her nose.

  With all the dark clothes, you’d think she’d be sporting thick layers of black lipstick and nail polish. But her face was makeup free, and her long nails were nicely manicured with lavender sparkles that matched her hair. There was a surprisingly feminine purple butterfly tattooed on her collarbone near her shoulder. I wasn’t a huge fan of body art or face piercings, but if you looked past all that, Marissa was really pretty.

  She smiled at me and stuck out her hand. “Are you Garland?”

  “Guilty.” I nodded once. “You must be Marissa.”

  “The one and only.” She curtsied and laughed. The sound was light and warm. It took me a while to decide on Shelly, but I knew instantly that I could be friends with Marissa.

  “After you, ladies.” I swept my hand in front of me, inviting them to go first.

  Marissa quirked her pierced eyebrow at me, then turned back to Shelly. “Looks like we scored a winner. Maybe he’ll teach Matt how to be a gentleman.”

  “Fat chance,” Shelly replied, and both girls snickered.

  The smell of dinner hit my nose well before we reached the lodge. Once inside, my stomach started growling again. There was already a line forming, so we went straight to the back. When we reached the buffet table, the sight was enough to make me salivate. Trays of baked macaroni with gooey cheese and a toasted parmesan bread crumb mixture beckoned me to skip the salad and dive in. I piled three large scoops on my plate.

  “Save some for the rest of us.” Marissa laughed.

  “Hey, I’m a growing boy.”

  She nodded toward my macaroni and smirked. “I assume you mean out and not up.”

  I patted my stomach. “It doesn’t matter what I eat. I never grow out.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I hate you already.” It was obviously a joke, but I noticed that her plate was full of salad and she only took a small scoop of pasta. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on Marissa’s body. If only I had that much control. Maybe my abs would look more like Clint’s.

  Chloe waved us over to a table where she and Matt were already sitting. “Aww, our first meal together as a family,” she cooed. “How special.”

  As I plopped onto the bench, I lifted a bite of macaroni to my mouth. Chloe jumped up and swatted my hand. My fork—and food—fell to the table. “Why’d you do that?” I whined.

  “We need to pick a name before we eat.” She grabbed a blank piece of card stock from the middle of the table, folded it hot-dog style, and snatched up a permanent marker. Tapping it against her lips, she thought aloud, “It’s got to be something good.”

  I was lost. “Name for what?”

  “Our family,” Matt replied. “We’re supposed to pick a last name that embodies our group dynamic. That’s what we’ll go by for the rest of the summer.”

  “People usually select the name of a famous artist or performer,” Shelly added for my benefit.

  All at once, everyone started rattling off suggestions. Except for me. I just sat there, glancing longingly at my plate. All that cheesy goodness was getting cold. After a minute of Chloe and Matt arguing between a composer and a dancer I’d never heard of, Marissa slammed her fist down on the table.

  “Stop!” she said loudly and winked at me. “If Garland doesn’t eat soon, he’s going to pass out.” Glad someone had my back. I changed my mind. I only hated winkers named Clint.

  Chloe looked at me expectantly. “If you want to eat so bad, make a suggestion.”

  I threw out the first response that came to mind. “Osmond.”

  “Osmond?” Shelly echoed cluelessly.

  “That music group from the seventies?” Matt asked.

  Chloe lit up. “My grandma loves those guys!”

  I grinned. “Mine too. I know more of their songs than anyone my age should ever know.”

  “Preach, brother.” Chloe held up her hand for a high five. I reached across the table and slapped it. “My oldest uncle is named Donnie.”

  “Now that’s devotion,” I replied. We busted up laughing, but nobody else found it funny.


  “Clearly, you are my coolest child.” Chloe said to me, then rolled her eyes before explaining to everyone else. “The Osmonds are a real-life family who sang, played their own instruments, wrote their own music, and danced. They had a TV show, and some of them performed on Broadway. Donnie and Marie were even Vegas headliners.” She paused, waiting for a reaction from the blank faces staring at her.

  I tried to help her sell it. “They were singers, writers, dancers, and actors.” I moved my finger around the table, pointing at each of them. When I got to Marissa, I added, “I bet at least one of them was an artist, too.” Shelly pursed her lips. Matt’s nose was wrinkled. Marissa narrowed her eyes, but at least she seemed amused.

  Chloe popped the cap off the marker and scribbled Osmond on our family name card. “Trust me, you guys, it’s perfect.”

  My stomach growled yet again, loud enough for the whole table to hear this time. “Can Garland eat now?” Marissa chuckled.

  “Yes, you may eat,” Chloe replied. I shoved a spoonful of pasta into my mouth. Even half cold, it was amazing. I moaned as my eyes rolled back. “Told you so.” She gloated.

  I polished off my food, then jumped up to get more before it was all gone. With my second helping loaded as high as my first, I turned back toward our table, just in time to see Clint grab Chloe and plant a not-quite-steamy but more-than-friendly kiss on her lips.

  I almost dropped my plate. My stomach lurched. For a second, I thought I might lose the entire contents—which would be both embarrassing and disgusting, especially considering how much I’d eaten. I blinked hard at the disturbing scene before me. I wouldn’t put it past Clint to walk around camp and plant one on whomever he felt like. But Chloe…

  Why was she kissing a dog like him?

  Matt appeared uninterested, but Marissa was clearly grossed out, and Shelly’s bottom lip drooped. Clint and Chloe broke apart as I walked up. She seemed confused, like she hadn’t been expecting it. When he caught sight of me, staring like a dope, he smirked. We locked eyes for a brief moment. My jaw clenched. Be cool, Garland.