Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Hilly loved move-in day, and things couldn't have gone more smoothly, at least with her new influx of kids.

As she lay in bed after the welcome-bonfire had long since been doused, she saw, in her mind's eye, all the smiling faces of the campers. Even the ones who'd hung back with their parents at first, tearful and nervous about cutting those familial-strings, had seemed happy and relaxed by the time they'd been steered to their cabins for lights-out by their boisterous counselors.

Thinking about tomorrow—Tuesday—the first full day of camp, Hilly would normally be going over the entire day's schedule in her head, but she couldn't get past the fact that Cisco would be showing up sometime in the early afternoon, and it would be the first time she'd seen him since that kiss…

That epic kiss.

At least that's what it had been for her.

And what had she done? She'd shut him down.

Sort of.

Hilly restlessly shifted to her side, punching her pillow.

What the hell was wrong with her? The best lip-lock of her life, and she'd basically told Cisco to take a hike until the end of the season. Which had killed her. But how had it affected him? For a guy like Cisco, getting pretty-much rejected, had to be a first. With that cheerful grin he always kept plastered on his handsome face, Hilly was certain he attracted women like badgers to honey. But…

As much as she wanted him, she refused to be a badger.

So, she'd put him off; told him they couldn't have anything going on over the summer. That he'd have to wait until the camp and her schedule cleared at the end of August. By that time, she figured, he would have found out who she was—who she'd been —and he'd either turn up his nose and run the other way, or he'd go the pity-route and offer up a few charity-dates before jettisoning her sorry ass.

Hilly didn't like either of those options, but Cisco making fast tracks away from her—not dragging out his rejection—would really be preferable. Which brought her full circle to thinking she should just tell him who she really was, and let him skitter back into the woodwork; no harm, no foul.

Right . Not happening. Can anyone say starry-eyed and chicken-shit?

Hilly sighed, rolling to her back once again to stare at the shadows moving across her ceiling that were cast by the night's nearly full moon. She let her anger take hold. Why had she been blindsided with this when she'd worked long and hard making a solitary, comfortable life for herself? Why couldn't Chief Ildavorg have sent a complete stranger, or a female cop to run the self-defense courses? What kind of mean-assed fate had stepped in so that now, twice a week, she'd be face to face with a guy on whom she'd crushed nearly twenty-years earlier?

The sucky kind of fate, that's what kind.

Hilly rolled her shoulders, then brought her arms out from between the sheets to smooth annoyingly at her quilted comforter, plucking at the stitching and tufts with agitated fingers.

Dammit. She needed to settle and get some shut-eye.

Enough of feeling sorry for herself.

Cisco was only one, in a cast of over a hundred people with whom she'd interface over the summer, and she needed to think about all of them.

Her expression soured as she thought about the most annoying person on that list.

Debbie Gorner.

The woman—a complete unknown on Hilly's plate this year—had already bugged the hell out of her. It would take all Hilly's strength not to have words with the woman before the first week of camp was even finished.

As promised, after several false starts, the brash blonde had finally waltzed in late Sunday like she owned the place, waving Hilly off and going straight to her cabin where she'd stayed for the rest of the night.

All day today, while giving various excuses, Nurse Gorner turned up her nose at the camper's meet-and-greet, the getting-to-know-you exercises, and even the two delicious meals Ellen Sothard had cooked and served up. Unbelievably, the nurse had stuck close to her cabin, eschewing all but the most necessary of interactions, letting Hilly know that she preferred eating her own food, which she would procure and provide for herself.

Not exactly the team player Hilly wanted at camp. But she supposed she couldn't bitch too much. After all, she'd been in a bind, and the woman had stepped in on short notice to help her out.

Besides, Buffy and Ellen had Hilly's back as two extremely sane adults on premise. Then there was…

Nope . Hilly twisted on her coverlet. She would not let her mind travel to Cisco again.

Instead, she refocused on camp issues, and in her head, ran through her staff counselors, one by one.

She had no uncertainties at all regarding the skills of those five teenagers who were returning to camp. Lisha, Fran, Jadan, Mateo, and Lance had all dropped seamlessly back into their roles as mentors and cheerleaders, making their new charges feel comfortable.

Midge, Bailey, and Maya, the new girls, looked to be picking things up quickly, with only Bailey holding herself somewhat aloof.

No. Aloof wasn't the correct adjective for the teen. She was more like…self-assured; perhaps even cocky. And Hilly hadn't missed the way she'd looked at a few of the boys she was working with like they were succulent fruit, ripe for picking.

Hilly would have to keep an eye on that one.

Carter, one of her two male newbies, also had her shaking her head. He was full of vivacity and enthusiasm—bouncing around the place with a frenetic kind of energy while engaging his ten campers. The only problem Hilly could find with him besides his exhausting, unstoppable zeal, was that he'd latched onto Lance with a puppy-dog-like fascination.

That adoration didn't seem to bother her senior counselor—at least not yet—so until Lance found it a problem and came to her with misgivings, Hilly would let him deal with it in his own way.

Vishon, her other first-timer, was a quiet, thoughtful kid who seemed to take his duties quite seriously. But luckily, despite his low-key demeanor, his campers had gravitated toward him, immediately. Which might be because Vishon had let them know he fully understood what they felt like, having been bullied, himself, as a youngster. Hilly had given him permission to reveal his personal story, knowing it would help everyone involved.

Hilly normally didn't hire counselors strictly on the basis of them being bullied or not—only two others in her employ had similar backgrounds—but during his interview, Vishon had impressed her with his sincerity, and even gave over a few new ideas he had for confidence-building.

She really liked the kid a lot, and could see him growing exponentially as he became more and more comfortable.

Hilly had given Buffy all the counselors' profiles, and if any of them had need of a therapist, she'd know where to start with them. The care Buffy would take with all her employees and campers gave Hilly a huge shot of reassurance.

Then there was Ellen Sothard.

Damn , had Hilly lucked out there.

Not only was her mother's good friend a fantastic cook, she was well-organized, cheerful, and she'd—without actually saying it out loud—pretty much agreed to keep Hilly's secret. Which was good. At least Hilly's anonymity could continue for a little while until she decided what to do.

The only real sour point in the day—other than the taciturn nurse—had been another afternoon visit by Langford Cottins.

The brashness of the asshole developer never failed to astound Hilly. She'd figured he'd lay off with the offers to buy her land during her busy season, not haunting her again until camp wound down, but the guy had balls of steel to show up on her first day, just after her arrivals. He'd gleefully informed her he had a new investor, so he could sweeten the pot on what he'd previously been offering.

When that new amount didn't sway Hilly, not even the slightest, he'd pointed out—nastily—that a lot of her infrastructure was aging poorly, and she should watch out. Things could take a turn for the worse.

Had that been said to make Hilly worry, or was it a threat?

Either way, it was bullshit.

As far as the physical plant was concerned, Hilly wasn't buying it. Along with expert help from Papa-J, she kept everything on the property in tip-top condition.

If he'd been making a veiled threat…

Langford could go pound sand.

In the end—after trying to be nice and telling the pain-in-the-ass interloper that she didn't have time for him, that she was extremely busy getting everyone settled in for their first day at camp—he hadn't taken her blatant hints. She'd eventually had to intimate that she'd call the police to have him removed.

He'd jeered at her proclamation, then taken his time to walk off smugly, not appearing daunted in the least.

Asshole .

She hoped today would be the last she'd see of the prick until camp closed down, but she doubted it.

Hilly flopped her body over on the mattress again.

A disgruntled, and very dramatic doggy-sigh sounded from the floor next to her.

Crap.

"I'm sorry, Nel," she apologized quietly so as not to wake Buffy in the other room. "I'm keeping you awake with my tossing and turning, aren't I?"

Nel gave one of those knowing, dog groans, and Hilly giggled.

"Okay. I get it. Shut it down. We need our sleep. Am I right?"

Her only answer was a loud, doggy- huff, so Hilly began doing some deep breathing to access her happy place.

Because she'd finally finished methodically and successfully sorting through her very odd first day, or maybe because her body was actually drained, eventually her lids closed and she found sleep.

Hilly was up with the dawn, unlike Buffy whose door remained closed.

Hilly giggled as she tip-toed by Buffy's room. Her friend was not an early riser.

After taking care of her morning ablutions as well as another ignored stack of paperwork, Hilly finally got on the loud-speaker at 7:30 sharp and gave the morning announcement which would be heard all throughout camp.

"Rise and shine, campers," she chirped cheerily. "We have a beautiful day ahead of us. It's seventy-nine degrees and sunny, and if the smells coming from the dining hall are any indication, I'd say Mrs. S has bacon on the menu. So if you want some, make sure you get there before Nel and I eat it all. And for those of you who are non-meat eaters, I can promise stacks of Mrs. S's delicious, fluffy pancakes."

Hilly had only five vegetarians on premise this year, along with six gluten-free kids, and eight peanut allergies including one counselor, Bailey. Not that Hilly needed to worry about the peanut kids having a medical crisis. She never allowed any nut products on the property; something everyone was fully aware of and had agreed to—even her staff—when they'd signed their paperwork.

Having finished her morning greeting, Hilly queued up the pre-programmed, soothing classical music she always piped over the camp speakers for the first fifteen minutes of the day, then laughed at a dancing Nel who was growing impatient, as if she hadn't already been out to do her business and her rounds, twice before sunrise.

"Give me a minute," she chuckled. "I need to put on my sneakers."

Yeah. Her good sneakers. Because she might be taking a little extra care with her appearance today.

Knowing Cisco would be showing up, Hilly had told herself it was no big deal, but she'd found herself donning a sky-blue T-shirt she knew complimented her eyes, along with a brand-new pair of shorts that weren't frayed or torn at the cuffs. Not that their pristine appearance would last long. Her clothes tended to take a beating due to the majority of her time being spent outside.

As Hilly rose from putting on her footwear, Nel jumped and spun in circles at the door. With still no sign of Buffy, Hilly finally opened the door and her dog burst outside, not waiting for her to follow.

The pup knew the routine, and wouldn't be gone long. They'd reconvene within the next few minutes at the dining hall.

Hilly breathed in a long, slow lungful of the fresh, pine-scented air. Lovely . This was truly her happy place, and she needed to remember that; chill-the-hell-out where Cisco was concerned, and ignore Nurse Sourpuss. Everything would eventually work out, one way or another, and none of her worrying about any of it would make a damned bit of difference.

Her feet followed a well-worn path around the barn, until she reached the huge dining hall building. Pushing through the swinging doors—second to enter behind Nel—Hilly followed the sound of banging pans and the smell of sizzling bacon, emerging into the huge kitchen where Ellen was merrily and efficiently creating their initial meal of the day.

"Good morning, Ellen," Hilly greeted cheerfully.

"Good morning, Hilly, Nel." She bent down and placed a kiss right on the top of the dog's head. "Ready to be spoiled, my sweet girl?"

Ellen wasn't talking to Hilly.

The chef snapped off a piece of bacon that had already been cooked, tossing it to the dog. Nel caught it mid-air, then spun proudly and trotted back out to the main dining room.

"Opportunist," Hilly laughed. "She wants to find a seat before they're all taken."

"You mean seats , plural,' Ellen laughed. "You know she'll beg food from every camper before she's full. I don't know how she isn't the size of a pony by now."

Hilly laughed. "She knows her limits, and she works it off."

Yes, the two of them took an evening run together every night, which helped keep both their weights under control.

Hilly didn't waste a second, but went right to work alongside Ellen, setting out stacks of plates, flatware, and napkins. To save on payroll, Hilly did a lot of the grunt-work around camp, herself. As the season progressed, however, the campers and counselors would take over things like this morning's tasks on a rotating schedule, as they learned what needed to be done and fell into a routine. In the meantime, Hilly didn't mind pitching in wherever and whenever. That, in a nutshell, was her job description; oversight and an extra pair of hands.

"So, today's the day Cisco shows up, am I correct?" Ellen's voice teased.

"It is. And don't you go starting any trouble. It's bad enough I have a little crush on him without you playing matchmaker."

"Who's playing matchmaker?" Buffy came up behind Hilly, yawning widely. Her ex-roommate had finally made it out of bed, and…frickity-frick. Hilly snorted as she got a look at her friend. Who looked so damned gorgeous this early in the morning?

"I am," Ellen came back unabashedly. "You haven't met Cisco yet, but I think he and Hilly would be perfect for each other."

"Me, too."

Hilly gave Buff an eye roll.

Yeah. Buffy knew all about Cisco. Hilly and her bestie had talked until nearly midnight Sunday after she'd returned from his house, and Hilly had spilled all the sordid Cisco-beans, past and present.

Of course, the therapist in Buffy had come out in full-force then, telling Hilly she should let Cisco know immediately that they'd been acquainted with each other in the past. That way, there'd be no misunderstandings or ambiguity if and when Cisco decided if he wanted to move ahead with…dating possibilities.

Buffy continued ignoring Hilly and spoke directly to Ellen, plucking a sausage link off the grill and popping it into her mouth. "I think Hilly already knows he's a good catch. We just have to make her understand her worth, and get her to open up to him regarding who she is."

Buffy had been told that Ellen was in on the whole keeping her identity a secret, thing.

"I agree," Ellen answered while flipping more pancakes that would be placed in the warming oven until everyone was lined up to eat, cafeteria style. "I've known that boy for as long as I've known Hilly, and there's no part of him that will be scared away if she tells him he'd been part of her early school experience." She pointed at Hilly with her spatula. "On the other hand, if he feels like he's been lied to, even by omission, that might create that possible wedge you're so worried about."

Buffy looked at Hilly triumphantly. "See? Great minds think alike. Tell the man everything and see what happens."

Hilly grumbled to herself.

Easy for Buffy to say. She wasn't the one who'd spent years of her childhood, fat and bullied.