Chapter Thirteen

thirteen

Hillary

We said goodbye to our second group of campers this morning, and I'm no-bones exhausted. But this isn't the time to rest. Not when Jessie's counting on me to make an impact on her bottom line.

I'm sitting at a table near the lake, enjoying the view while brainstorming ideas. It's a shame the Valentines are set on selling the camp—if I was able to implement some bigger structural and systematic changes, I have no doubt I could turn this whole operation around.

I'd need to study the finances, but based on what I've observed, there's a lot of untapped potential. Take the cabins—a little winterization would make them livable for another five months each year, opening additional revenue streams, like corporate retreats or artist residencies. And weddings! From the looks of all the canoodling by the farewell campfire last night, several campers arrived single, but left as couples. It seems you're never too old to fall in love at camp.

I shiver, either from the breeze coming off the lake or from the memory of Cooper's eyes finding mine over the campfire last night, like he was singing just for me.

As expected, Cooper had his fair share of attention from the lady campers this week, but from what I saw—and yes, I was watching—the interest wasn't reciprocated. At least, it wasn't acted on.

He hasn't acted on his offer with me, either.

I'm pretty sure the ball is in my court, but I have no idea how to initiate a conversation, to let him know I'm interested in taking this fling from theoretical to actual. I suddenly sympathize with Aaron having to broach the topic of our so-called break.

No. I push the thought of Aaron away; he doesn't belong here, even in my mind.

It's telling how little I've thought of him since I arrived. How unbothered I am by the idea of him sleeping around. I'm more bothered by the idea of Cooper sleeping with other women, which makes no sense. But the thought of him sleeping with me and a rotating roster of campers just feels…icky.

Not very "fun" of me, I know. I need to get over my stupid hang-ups and go for it. I had a chance two nights ago back at the Lodge—Cooper's room is across from mine, and we came into the hall at the same time. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question. I was about to say something when Zoey opened her door, went to the bathroom, and spent a million years washing her face. Then Dot came out and the two of them started talking about how tonic and bananas are great natural remedies for leg cramps. Bananas!

My thoughts are interrupted by Jessie screaming, "Get out of here, you witch!"

Quickly, I slip my notebook into my bag and head back up to the main lawn to investigate. The campers should all be gone by now.

"Who are you calling a witch, bitch?" a male voice is yelling.

He doesn't have an accent, so it can't be Zac, and I can't imagine Mr. Billy yelling. I pick up the pace, hoping it's not Cooper. I can't be friends, let alone friends with benefits, with a man who screams at a woman like that.

As I round the corner of the Arts and Crafts cabin, I see Jessie standing on the lawn, her hands on her hips. And she's yelling at Luke. Luke?

"You're such a coward," Luke yells.

"At least I have a heart!" Jessie yells back, furious. "I hope a house falls on you!"

They pause, and Jessie's body language relaxes. "That was great!" she says. "It'll work perfectly for the scene with the Lion, the Scarecrow, and the two witches."

What the…

I may have said that out loud, because Jessie turns to look in my direction.

"Hey, Hill!" she says, waving me over. "Want to help us workshop the script for the musical?"

Now this makes sense. Jessie has been working on the camp musical for the last two weeks—a spoof on The Wizard of Oz . I wonder how she convinced Luke to help—he hasn't participated in a single camp activity since he got here.

"Thanks for the offer," I say, not wanting to be a third wheel. "I think I'm going to go for a walk. Good luck!"

Jessie gives me a quick wave, then focuses her attention back on Luke. I'm pretty sure she still has the hots for him. Hell, I'd have the hots for him if I didn't already have a camp crush.

Which I think I do.

Not only is Cooper easy on the eyes, but every day last week, he saved a plate of leftovers for me. There is nothing sexier than a man who listens to what you tell him about yourself.

As a thank-you (and an excuse to spend more time with him), I've been drawing the menu board each night. I love playing with the colorful chalk and adding a little flair to whatever Cooper's cooked up.

But now, since I told Jessie I was going for a walk, I guess I'm going for a walk.

—

Just before six, I'm the first one to the dining hall for our staff dinner. If anyone asks, it's because I'm starving—between the fresh air and the exercise, I really worked up an appetite—and not because I'm eager to talk to Cooper alone.

"Hey," I say, popping my head in the kitchen door. "Need any help?"

He surprises me by saying, "Actually, yeah."

I step into the kitchen and let go of the door, which bounces back and hits me in the butt, propelling me toward Cooper. He glances over his shoulder at the sound of my "oof" and laughs before turning back to finish whatever he's doing on the stove.

He's wearing a lobster-patterned apron today, which I recognize from the photo I haven't been able to stop thinking about.

I was in Jessie's office the other morning, googling the ratio for papier-maché paste, when I did a quick search for the article Cooper mentioned. Sure enough, there was a whole spread, including a full-page picture of him wearing that apron, tied at the waist. And nothing else.

My cheeks flush with the memory of his broad shoulders, the contours of his chest. The way he stood with his hands on his hips, drawing attention to the apron and the question of what was underneath.

What stood out to me most, though, was his expression. The way he looked at the camera—or the person behind it—with a flirty, seductive stare. I wonder if he was sleeping with the photographer.

"Taste this for me?"

I blink. Cooper's standing in front of me with a spoonful of mashed potatoes. Obediently, I open my mouth, and he holds my gaze as he slides the spoon against my tongue. I close my lips, waiting for him to let go of the spoon, but he doesn't—his gray eyes drift to my mouth as I swallow. Only then does he withdraw the spoon, and I realize I haven't even noticed the potatoes.

As soon as I do, I cringe; too salty. Still, I force a smile and say, "Yum!"

Cooper frowns. "I told you how I feel about the truth."

My smile fades, too; someone really must have hurt him in the past. "Sorry," I say, swallowing again. "In that case, they're a little salty."

His smile returns. "More cream and butter will balance that out." He hesitates before adding casually, "So, do you want to hang out tonight?"

My heart leaps. "Yes. Definitely yes."

"Then it's a date," Cooper says, grinning as he turns back to the stove.

—

Ten minutes later, we're all sitting around the table, sharing our roses and thorns. My real rose is obviously what just happened in the kitchen, but I say it's how excited the campers were to make friendship bracelets. My thorn is all the pranks the campers pulled—one bit of nostalgia I wouldn't mind leaving in the past.

"Looking ahead at this week," Jessie says, "we've got a lot of thespians coming."

Zac giggles and Zoey elbows him in the side. " Thes pians, not lesbians."

"Don't you worry, we've got a fair share of those coming, too," Dot says, giving Zac a wink.

"The script is coming along well, thanks to Luke." Jessie pauses to give him a smile—he joined us for dinner tonight, this time as an invited guest. "And we should be good for the costumes since we're making this a modern retelling."

"But we might need some props," Luke says. "A wicker basket and a stuffed animal to play Toto. Possibly a few tutus."

"Coop and I can pick those up when we go to town tomorrow morning," I offer. "I'm already getting supplies to make the set. We're going to add some extra sessions in the Arts and Crafts cabin Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday afternoon for anyone who wants to help."

"I'll put it on the schedule," Dot says, jotting down a reminder.

"We'd better get to work if we want the script to be finished before the campers get here," Jessie says, gathering her things.

Luke nods and takes one last bite before standing up to follow her.

"I think we're going to get going, too," Zoey says. "Testing out a new idea we had for a midnight sail."

"By midnight, she means ten p.m.," Zac says.

"Who cares what time it is as long as it's dark?" Zoey says, her eyes glimmering. The waves won't be the only thing making their boat rock tonight.

Mr. Billy left about fifteen minutes after we all sat down, so it's just me and Cooper now. And Dot. Who is looking at us both, a wide grin on her face.

"Looks like it's just the three of us tonight!" she says, and my stomach sinks. "How about a board game at the Lodge?"

Cooper glances over at me, clearly reading the panic on my face. "Maybe another night," he says to Dot.

"Oh," Dot says, glancing between me and Cooper. "Ohhhh. On second thought." She stands up, grinning. "I'm going to go read my book by the fireplace. You two have fun—you want help cleaning up?"

"We've got it," I say, my eyes still on Cooper.

"Good night, Dot," Cooper says, his lips quirking up in a smile.

Dot chuckles as she walks into the night, leaving me and Cooper alone. Finally.

I exhale, nervous. It's been more than two years since I kissed someone new—and I've never, not once, cheated. Although this isn't technically cheating. We're on a break. A break that Aaron suggested. A break that I'm pretty sure I want to make permanent.

"Hi," Cooper says, suddenly standing beside me. He extends a hand to help me up, and just like the other night in the hallway, we're mere inches apart. Close enough for him to smell the garlic on my breath. Then again, he's the one who put it there.

I must make a face, because Cooper says, "What are you thinking about?"

"The copious amount of garlic I ate tonight," I admit.

A chuckle rumbles through him, and he reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a packet of breath strips. "Here you go—but for the record, I'm sure you always taste amazing."

Heat floods my stomach, and any doubt about his definition of "hanging out" evaporates like the breath strip on my tongue.

"It won't take me long to clean up if you want to wait here," Cooper says.

"It'll go faster if I help," I say. "And I have an idea of where we can go."

He winks. "Then let's get busy!"

—

Before long, Cooper and I are walking through the empty camp. It's so quiet I can hear my breath hitch when he takes my hand. The calluses on his fingers are rough against my skin—so different from Aaron's soft, regularly manicured hands. I lace my fingers through Cooper's, excited to discover more ways he's nothing like Aaron.

We walk, hand in hand, toward the boys' side of camp, cutting between Cabin Nine and Cabin Eleven. Standing at the threshold between the clearing of the camp and the undisturbed forest, I understand why it's off-limits after dark. It's pitch-black in there.

"Any chance you have your phone?" I ask Cooper.

He drops my hand for an excruciatingly long moment, digs it out of his pocket, and turns on the flashlight.

"Thanks," I say, taking it in my right hand and reaching for his again with my left.

With his phone lighting the way, we retrace the steps I took earlier on my walk. There's a path for the first little while, but when it curves right, circling back toward the girls' side of the camp, we keep going straight. After about fifteen minutes, we emerge into a clearing. Across from us, water cascades down the side of a rocky hill into a small lake.

"Whoa," Cooper says, the same reaction I had earlier.

"It's beautiful, right?"

"Stunning," he says, turning to me, standing kissably close.

As much as I want to go for it, I need to make sure we're on the same page first. My heart pounds, and I force myself to say: "So, your offer is still good? To be my summer fling?"

"So good," Cooper says immediately, and his enthusiasm makes me grin.

"You should know, I've never done anything like this."

"Nervous?" he asks, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

I nod, my heart rate quickening. "A little. Maybe. I don't know. Should we have rules?"

"Sure," he says. "You're in control—nothing happens that you don't want."

I let out a shaky breath, relieved. Establishing rules and boundaries might just be my love language. "First rule: we should probably put a time limit on it."

"Until the end of camp?" he suggests, twirling a strand of my hair around his finger.

"Sounds good. Rule two: no PDA."

Cooper nods. "How do you feel about sleepovers?"

I make a face. That sounds pretty relationship-y. "I don't want anyone to know about this," I tell him, even though it's probably too late with Dot; but for all she knows, we just had plans to platonically hang out. "So rule three: we keep this quiet. And we should probably say no feelings, right? Keep it casual, no strings attached?"

"Deal. Any other rules?"

"Just one more," I say, flashing back to how tense I got every time a beautiful camper put her hands on Cooper last week. "As long as we're doing…this, we shouldn't do…this with anyone else. None of the campers, I mean. But if there's someone you like, a woman, just tell me and we end it, no hard feelings."

"That won't be a problem," he says, but I'm not sure I believe him. Like Taylor Swift says, a player's gonna play.

And like Aaron said, I'm no fun. Case in point, right now: way to take all the excitement out of a hookup by putting a bunch of rules around it, Hillary.

"Sorry, I told you I'm no good at being fun." I break his stare and look toward the rushing water.

"Hey," Cooper says, drawing my face back toward him. "Your rules are sexy as hell—nothing's more fun than a woman who knows what she wants. And I've got a rule, too."

"Something to do with honesty?" I guess.

Cooper nods. "You want something, you tell me. You like something, you tell me." He pulls me closer, resting his hand on the small of my back. All the blood in my body rushes to the one spot. "And if you don't, you tell me that, too. None of that ‘yum' bullshit you gave me when my potatoes were salty as fuck."

I burst out laughing. "Okay! I'll be completely and totally honest, even if it might hurt your feelings."

"Good. So…how do you feel about this?" His finger traces the curve of my jaw to my chin, then rests gently against my bottom lip.

"I like this," I say. "I like this a lot."

Even in the dark, I can tell his eyes are sparking with desire.

"That goes both ways, right?" I ask as I reach up and slip the baseball cap off his head. No hair loss. His brown hair is thick and wavy, and I run my hand through it.

Cooper lets out a slow breath, bending his head back with my touch, like a cat. "I like," he says, so I keep exploring, trailing my hand down his jaw, across his neatly trimmed beard.

More confident now, my finger drifts down to his chin, then up to his lips. I've never been this forward with a man—I always let the guy make the first move, initiate the first kiss, the first touch—and it's thrilling. It's fun.

With his eyes locked on mine, Cooper takes my finger between his lips and gently sucks. My breath hitches at the feeling of his tongue against the pad of my finger. He releases it with a soft pop , and I wait for him to kiss me. But he doesn't. He just waits, watching me, staying true to his word and letting me be in control.

I remind myself to be brave—and fun—then lean in and kiss him . As our lips meet, he cups my face, gently guiding me closer. He tastes like mint and his lips are warm, his beard tickling my chin. Our kisses are soft, tentative, as we taste and tease each other. He's being careful, following my lead, which I appreciate, but soon I find myself leaning in, wanting more. I open my mouth, inviting him to deepen the kiss, and he does, wrapping one arm around my waist, pulling me close. His tongue slides more deeply against mine and heat sizzles down my legs. I let out a soft, involuntary moan. He's kissing me like this is the main attraction, not just the warm-up for something more.

His lips nip my ear, and he trails kisses down the side of my neck. My mind flashes back to our first kiss all those years ago, and I laugh, remembering how awkward and stumbly it was.

"What's so funny?" he asks, pulling away slightly.

I don't want to admit it, but I promised honesty. "I was just thinking about how much you've improved since our last time doing this."

Cooper smiles, tilting my chin so I'm looking into his eyes. "Do you remember the camp dance that summer?"

"I think so," I say, although most of the camp dances have blended together in my mind.

"I asked you to go out and look at the stars with me."

"I brought Jessie out with me," I say, remembering how nervous I was to be alone with him, how I wasn't sure I wanted to kiss him again.

"Yup." Cooper laughs. "This do-over has been a long time coming."

"Well, it was worth the wait," I say, lifting my head so our lips meet again.

He sinks into this kiss, his hands running up my back and pulling me against him. My body feels light and breezy, like it's made of stars, and I let out a sigh of appreciation for this place, for this man.

And, most importantly, for this new version of myself.