Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

D ean was enjoying his normal workday. It was lunchtime, and he was busy delivering meals to the poolside, which meant he had plenty of time to soak up the warm, golden rays of the sun and the vibrant energy of the camp. The sky was a perfect blue, and the air was filled with the sounds of laughter and splashing water. Guests lounged on comfortable chairs, some sipping colorful drinks with tiny umbrellas, others reading books or chatting happily. The scent of sunscreen and chlorinated pool water mixed with the aroma of grilled food from the nearby dining area.

As Dean walked by, balancing a tray of plates, he couldn't help but notice a tense interaction between one of the male guests and his wife. The man was burly and had a stern expression, his brow furrowed in what seemed to be perpetual annoyance. He was standing over his wife, gesturing angrily at the food on her plate. Dean paused for a moment, his eyes flickering over the scene. The woman was petite and looked out of place next to her imposing husband. She sat quietly, her shoulders slightly hunched, as if trying to make herself smaller.

Dean tried not to eavesdrop, but the man's voice was loud and harsh, cutting through the gentle hum of the pool area.

"No wonder you haven't lost any weight," he sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. He pointed accusingly at her plate, which held a modest lunch of salad and a small piece of grilled chicken—nothing that seemed indulgent. Dean recognized the plate as one he had just delivered moments earlier.

The man had ordered a double cheeseburger and a double helping of fries. Not to mention the half dozen beers he'd already downed while enjoying the pool and waiting for their food to arrive.

"You always make the worst decisions," the man continued, his voice growing louder and more aggressive. "Why did you even bother wearing that swimsuit if you're just going to eat like a pig?"

The woman's face turned a deep shade of red, her eyes darting around nervously, as if hoping no one else was paying attention. She murmured something under her breath, too quiet for Dean to hear, as she pulled her towel up over her shoulders and covered her body.

The fact that the man was easily thirty pounds overweight and sporting a large beer belly didn't stop him from tearing into the petite woman, who had a near perfect figure.

The man's response to what the woman had said was a dismissive scoff. He rolled his eyes, grabbed his plate of food, and walked away, leaving her sitting alone by the poolside, looking stricken and humiliated. She stared at her untouched plate, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

Dean clenched his jaw, feeling a surge of anger rise within him. It wasn't just the man's words that bothered him but the way he had delivered them—publicly, without any regard for his wife's feelings. It was a place meant for relaxation and enjoyment, and yet this woman was being shamed in front of everyone. Dean's heart ached for her; no one deserved to be treated that way.

He caught her eye and offered a small, sympathetic smile, hoping to convey some sense of comfort and understanding. But the woman quickly looked away, her embarrassment only deepening.

Suddenly, she stood up, still without eating a bite of her food, and hurriedly retreated towards the cabins, her posture stiff and her steps quick. Her husband's cruel words seemed to echo in the empty space she left behind, lingering like an unpleasant aftertaste.

As she walked away, Dean couldn't shake his anger. He wished he could do more, say something to make her feel better, but he knew it wasn't his place to intervene. He took a deep breath, tried to refocus on his work, and continued delivering meals. But the image of the woman's pained expression stayed with him, a reminder that even in a place as idyllic as River Camps, not everything was as perfect as it seemed.

Later, as Dean was making his way down one of the camp's trails, he spotted the same woman sitting on a bench, tears streaming down her face. She was dressed in the same pool outfit with shorts and a red tank top over her swimsuit. She sat alone, in the shade of a tree, and her shoulders shook as she sobbed quietly.

Dean hesitated for a moment before walking over. "Hey," he said gently, keeping his voice soft. "Are you okay?"

The woman looked up, startled. She quickly wiped her eyes and tried to compose herself. "I'm fine," she whispered, though her red eyes and trembling hands said otherwise.

Dean sat down on the edge of the bench, maintaining a respectful distance. "I'm sorry about what happened earlier. Nobody should talk to you like that."

The woman sniffled, nodding. "He's just stressed," she mumbled. "It's been a tough year. I'm trying to lose a few pounds after having our daughter. It's not going as well as I hoped."

Dean nodded, understanding but not excusing the behavior. "Well, if you need anything, we're all here to help. You deserve to enjoy your time here."

She gave him a small, appreciative smile. "Thank you," she said quietly.

Dean stood up, giving her a reassuring nod before heading back to his duties. He pushed the encounter to the back of his mind, focusing on each task ahead of him. He had a busy day overseeing a few events before lending a hand with preparations for the evening's activities in the main dining hall.

As evening approached, the guests started to line up for dinner. The room had been transformed for the night's theme: an evening with Bridgerton. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over tables adorned with elegant floral arrangements and candlelight, reminiscent of a grand Regency-era ball. The guests, excited by the promise of an enchanting evening, arrived dressed in their fanciest outfits. Some women were in flowing gowns with lace and pearls, and the men were in tailored suits, a few even in period-inspired waistcoats and cravats. Then again, there were guests in dress pants and simple cocktail attire as well.

The camp employees, however, had gone all out. They were decked out in rented costumes that transported them back to the early 19th century. The women wore empire-waist dresses with delicate gloves and bonnets, while the men sported cravats, waistcoats, and tailcoats. Dean himself was dressed in a dark, tailored coat with gold buttons, a crisp white shirt, and a velvet waistcoat. His hair was neatly combed back, and he felt a touch of elegance in his attire. He was enjoying the novelty of stepping into a different era.

He was waiting near the entrance, overseeing the seating arrangements while making sure everyone knew where to go. The buzz of conversation filled the warm night air blowing in through the opened back doors that led out to the patio. A mix of laughter and light chatter echoed in the dining hall as guests enjoyed themselves. The scent of that night's special menu of roasted meats and baked bread wafted around the guests, mingling with the soft strains of classical string music being played by the hired band. The atmosphere was festive and lively, with guests eagerly discussing the night's festivities and all the wonderful outfits.

He was just turning to greet more guests when suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his jaw. The world spun for a moment as he staggered backwards, his hand instinctively going up to his face. The laughter and chatter around him abruptly stopped, replaced by gasps of shock. He blinked as he tried to steady himself and looked up to see the burly man from earlier that morning standing in front of him. The man's face was twisted in anger, his fists clenched and knuckles red from the impact.

Guests nearby froze, their eyes wide in disbelief at the sudden violence. The room's previously cheerful ambiance was shattered as everyone tried to make sense of what had just happened. Dean's heart raced, as pain and anger flooded his senses. He tasted a hint of blood in his mouth where his teeth had caught his upper lip, and his jaw throbbed painfully from the unexpected blow.

The man, undeterred by the attention that he was drawing, glared at Dean with a look of pure rage. His voice, loud and menacing, cut through the stunned silence.

"You think you can flirt with my wife?" the man shouted, his voice loud enough to draw the attention of everyone nearby. "Stay away from her, you hear me?"

Dean, still reeling from the punch, tried to steady himself. "I wasn't?—"

But the man didn't let him finish and threw another punch his way. This time Dean was ready and easily ducked the flying fist.

The man, even though he was twice his size, was thankfully slow.

"Don't lie to me!" the man yelled, advancing towards Dean again. "I saw you talking to her on the trail. You think you can just swoop in and steal her?"

Before the situation could escalate further, several other camp staff members rushed over, pulling the man away from Dean. The guests looked on in shock and concern as whispers started to spread like wildfire through the dense crowd.

Dean pressed a hand to his throbbing jaw and cheek, feeling the beginnings of what would undoubtedly be a nasty bruise. He glanced around, catching the concerned looks of several guests, but his attention was drawn back to the scene when Brett arrived, responding to the disturbance.

He knew that the camp's security team would quickly intervene and escort the man out of the room, if not completely off campus.

Within minutes, Brett and Aaron escorted the man outside, ensuring him that they would have the police haul the guy in for assault. He knew that word would spread about the incident to guests and employees who hadn't been there to witness the event. The atmosphere in the hall grew tense, and Dean could see the worried faces of the guests as they whispered among themselves.

A short while later, Dean learned from one of the staff members that Brett had gone out to check on the man's wife and had found her in their cabin, badly beaten and unconscious. She was being taken to the hospital, and the man was officially being arrested for assault on two people.

That news hit him hard. He didn't mind taking a fist to the face once in a while. Even if he didn't deserve it. But the thought of the woman being hurt made him wish he'd struck the guy back. Hard.

Remembering the woman's soft scared eyes and her sweet smile had his anger doubling. He wondered what would drive a man to act so. Dean had only wanted to offer her a bit of kindness, and now she was suffering even more for it. Had he really caused this?

He was sitting in the main entryway, still processing everything that had happened, with an ice pack on his cheek, when he heard a familiar voice.

"Dean!"

He turned to see Andrea rushing towards him, her eyes flooded with concern and worry. She reached out, gently touching his cheek, where the bruise was already starting to darken.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft but urgent.

He nodded, managing a small smile despite the pain. "Yeah, just a little shaken up."

Andrea frowned, her eyes scanning his face. "You didn't deserve this," she said, her voice firm. "You were just trying to help."

Dean sighed, shrugging slightly. "I guess some people just don't appreciate what they have."

She shook her head, clearly upset. "I'm so sorry you got dragged into this. And that poor woman."

Dean nodded, his expression somber. "I know. I just hope she'll be okay."

Andrea wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. He closed his eyes, grateful for her warmth and comfort. Despite the chaos and pain of the day, being with her made everything a little more bearable.

Less than half an hour later Andrea and Dean left River Camps together, both feeling the weight of the day's events dragging them down.

The sun was just dipping low in the sky, casting golden hues over the landscape and making everything appear as if it were on fire. Instead of heading straight home, they decided to stop off at a fast-food place along the way. It was a cozy little spot with the comforting smell of fried food wafting through the air. They ordered French fries and chocolate milkshakes, a guilty pleasure that made them both smile.

They sat in a booth by the window, watching the world go by outside as they enjoyed their simple meal. Andrea dipped a fry into her milkshake and grinned at him.

"You know, it's funny how something so simple can be so satisfying." She motioned with her fry.

He chuckled, wincing slightly as his bruised cheek burned. He took a sip of his cold milkshake to soothe the pain.

"Yeah, sometimes it's the little things. Like fries dipped in chocolate milkshake." He took another bite.

"Comfort food," she said with a sigh. They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, enjoying their food. Then Andrea broke the quiet. "I was thinking about that couple from earlier, the way he treated her. It's just…sad. No one should have to go through that."

He nodded, his expression serious.

"Yeah, it reminds me of my sister and her ex-husband. They went through something similar. Not the physical bit, but he was always putting her down, making her feel like she wasn't good enough. It took her going through cancer and losing everything before she realized that she deserved better."

Andrea sighed, stirring her milkshake with her straw. "It makes me think about my sister. She and Brad are always putting on this perfect front, but I know things aren't great between them. When she was staying with me…well, it's clear she's not happy. Brad doesn't want kids, and she's always wanted a family. And then there's the cheating."

Dean leaned back, watching her thoughtfully. "It's tough. Relationships are complicated, and sometimes they're not what they seem from the outside."

A small frown creased Andrea's brow as she looked down at her fries. "Yeah. And then there's us." She glanced up at him, searching his face for a reaction. "When we started this, I thought it was just going to a fling, an affair, something fun for the summer."

His eyes met hers, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze. "Yeah, me too. But…I guess sometimes flings can turn into something more. Or at least, they can get confusing."

There was a brief, awkward silence as they both struggled to find the right words. The hum of the restaurant around them seemed to grow louder, filling the gap in their conversation. Andrea hesitated, then forced a smile. "Maybe it's best not to overthink it. Let's just enjoy the summer for now, see where it goes."

He nodded slowly, though there was a hint of something unspoken in his heart he wanted to find the words for. For now, they felt as if they were blocked, held back by something not yet formed.

"Yeah, a summer affair," he said, echoing her earlier words. He gave her a small, almost wistful smile. "Nothing wrong with that."

They both knew there was more beneath the surface, unspoken feelings and uncertainties. But for now, they were content to leave it at that. They continued eating, talking about lighter topics, and enjoying each other's company, savoring the fleeting, simple pleasures of the moment.