“Please, tell us you’re not going to kiss her, Uncle Jake!” Tucker said.
He and Natalie glanced at the kids and found all but one child covering their eyes.
“We’re absolutely not going to kiss,” Natalie answered, but she didn’t pull away.
“You look like you’re going to kiss,” cooed Annabelle, who happened to be the only child who didn’t look totally freaked out.
“Kissing must be so gross, right, Uncle Jake?” Finn added with his hands covering his eyes.
He shared a look with Natalie. “I wouldn’t say it’s so gross.”
Maddie peeked through her fingers. “Aunt Nat, do you like kissing Uncle Jake?”
“Um, sure, I like it,” she answered, catching his eye with a what-the-hell-are-we-supposed-to-say expression.
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s…”
The best thing ever. Like no sensation he’d ever experienced. Scratch that. It’s exactly the best thing he’d ever experienced because she was his kiss keeper. Those lips. That smile. Despite everything that he had on the line, all he wanted to do was take her into his arms, press his lips to hers, and kiss her until the world disappeared.
“It’s what?” Natalie asked with a tantalizing curve to her lips.
He stared into her eyes, completely lost. “There’s nothing better than kissing your aunt Natalie.”
Natalie’s gaze softened, drawing him into a place where only love and kindness existed, as the children threw out a chorus of moans and groans but went silent when the camp bell rang.
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!
Five rings!
“It’s an emergency!” Annabelle cried.
That’s right. Five rings told everyone to—
Natalie gasped. “We need to get to the flagpole at the center of camp. That’s where everyone is supposed to meet if there’s ever an emergency.”
He nodded. He remembered the drill from back when he was a camper.
The kids set off down the trail with Finn at the head of the line as he and Natalie followed behind.
“What do you think it is?” he asked.
“I don’t know. A lost child. Maybe a medical emergency. It could be anything,” she replied when Fish came huffing up the trail.
“It’s an all hands-on deck situation,” the big man said, turning to jog alongside them.
“What happened?” Natalie asked.
“Your grandparents had a few community service activities planned for the week.”
“Okay.”
“They’d scheduled a car wash and invited a few community groups to camp.”
“Which ones?” Natalie asked.
“The local Elks Club for some fishing, the high school marching band to swim in the cove, and the retired nuns from the convent are here, too,” Fish answered, counting off the groups on his fingers.
“Nuns?” Jake repeated.
“Yeah, Hal and Bev open the camp up all the time to the community. Bev does an art class with them,” Fish answered.
“What’s the problem?” Natalie asked.
Fish slowed to a walk and mopped his brow with a handkerchief. “They were supposed to come on different days this week, but they’re all here right now.”
“Right now?” Natalie parroted back.
“Right now,” the man replied.
“All of them?” she questioned.
“Yep, all of them. And your grandparents aren’t here. Your grandpa had an appointment, and then they were going to pick up the lobsters for tonight,” Fish replied as they came out of the woods to find complete pandemonium.
“Oh, boy,” she said, followed by an overwhelmed sigh as the children continued down the hill and ran into the crowd.
“Jesus, Heels!” he breathed, taking in the hordes of people milling around.
“What should we tell them? Do you think we should wait until your grandparents get back to do anything?” Fish asked.
Natalie shook her head. “No, we have to do something. Fish, try to gather everyone together.”
The man nodded, then hurried down the hill.
“Can you do one of those loud whistles, Jake?” she asked.
His gaze bounced between her and the swarm of people milling around. “Yeah.”
She grabbed his hand and led him through the crowd over to a bench, then pulled him up with her to stand.
“Okay, do it,” she said.
His brows knit together. “What are you going to do?”
She blew out a breath. “Try to get this mess organized.”
“How?”
She wrung her hands. “I’m not totally sure, but we’ve got to do something. I don’t want to disappoint these people. Service projects are important to my grandparents. I’d hate for the community to think Camp Woolwich was falling apart.”
Was Camp Woolwich falling apart? Hal Woolwich certainly didn’t look like he was operating at one hundred percent.
Shit! He couldn’t let his mind go there. Not now.
He raised his hand to his mouth. “You ready?”
She nodded. “Do it.”
He raised his hand to his mouth and whistled, a loud slicing sound that cut through the crowd, silencing them.
“Wow, you’re good at that,” Natalie said, wide-eyed.
“I lived on a dairy farm for a while when I was a teenager. This is how I used to call in the cows.”
He never spoke of that time, but with her, it just came out.
She nodded, then glanced out at the crowd of frowning faces. “Hello, everyone. There seems to be a little scheduling snafu, but I’ve got a plan.”
“What are you going to do?” Leslie called, dragging Leo with her to the front of the crowd.
Without thinking, Jake took her hand. “You’re a teacher, right, Heels?”
“Yeah.”
“What would you do if this were a bunch of unruly kids?”
She lifted her chin. “Okay, Woolwich family, we’ve got guests, and we’re going to break into groups to make sure our friends from the community have a lovely time here at Camp Woolwich.”
He watched in awe as Natalie divided her family into groups and assigned them each an area. Then, she proceeded to direct the different community organizations to different camp locations. Like a general calling the shots, the masses moved out in military precision.
He watched as the Woolwich teens, usually glued to their phones, led the marching band down to the waterfront. The Elks group set off for the dock to fish while a third Woolwich battalion headed toward the camp’s entrance to start washing the cars. She even had a team of family members head over to the dining hall to start on making sandwiches to feed the masses.
She leaned into him as the area around the flagpole cleared out, and he wrapped his arm around her. “I thought you were supposed to be the screw-up Woolwich?”
“I usually am,” she answered with a touch of awe to her words when a soft voice caught their attention.
“Dear, where would you like us to go?”
They turned, and he nearly fell off the bench.
“Holy—” he began when Natalie clamped her hand over her mouth and pasted on a smile.
How the heck did they miss a cadre of nuns?
Dressed in habits and veils with their hands clasped in front of them, a half dozen ancient brides of Christ smiled up at them.
“Oh, Sisters, I’m sorry. You’re all here for an art class, correct?” Natalie asked as he helped her down from the bench.
“Yes, Beverly usually teaches it. I believe she’s your grandmother,” the woman replied, then shook Natalie’s hand. “I’m Sister Anne, and these are the esteemed retired nuns who reside at the convent in town.”
“I’m Natalie, and this is Jake. My grandmother’s not here, but I’m an art teacher, and it would be an honor if I could work with you today.”
“And him, too,” said a pint-sized, wrinkly nun, elbowing her way to the front of the group.
“
Behave, Sister Evangeline,” Sister Anne warned.
“You want me?” he asked.
“Oh, yes, you!” the nun answered, looking him up and down like a piece of meat.
Natalie threaded her arm with his. “I’m sure Jake would be happy to assist.”
He cocked his head to the side. “I would?”
“You would,” she answered.
“I don’t know anything about art,” he said under his breath.
“You can assist me,” she said through a pasted-on grin.
“Um, okay,” he answered, throwing a glance at the little nun, still eyeing him like a turkey on Thanksgiving.
Natalie gestured to the lodge, and the group headed toward the old building. They entered through a squeaky screen door and were met with the familiar scent of paint and soda pop that permeated the building. The ground floor was essentially a multi-purpose space that served as a place for kids to hang out with ping-pong tables and beanbag chairs scattered around and what looked like the same old Coke vending machine humming along in the corner. He followed the women up the stairs to the second floor that had barely changed in fifteen years. Sunlight streamed in and illuminated stacks of construction paper and rusty coffee cans that housed markers, colored pencils, and an array of rainbow flecked paintbrushes.
He picked up a small sign. “Mistakes and imperfections are part of the process,” he said, reading the faded words.
Natalie touched the corner. “It’s my grandmother’s motto.”
“We’re all a work in progress,” he said, veering from his usual cocksure persona—the facade that hid the boy within.
“We are,” she answered, gently, her soothing voice washing over him.
The nuns sat down, and one of the sisters removed a stack of sketch pads from a large tote.
“What were you drawing last time?” Natalie asked, settling herself on a stool at the front of the room.
Sister Anne folded her hands on the table. “The theme has been Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. We’ve been drawing still life, and today—”
“We draw him,” the tiny nun, Sister Evangeline, said with her bony finger, pointing his way.
“Me?” he said, then gulped.
Holy Mary! This ninety-year-old sure had plenty of get-up-and-go.
Now it was Natalie’s turn to eye him. “You are the only man here, Jake, and if the theme is Adam and Eve, and they came expecting to draw Adam…” she trailed off.
“Christ!” he muttered, then blushed. “I mean, shit! No, that doesn’t work either. Crap! That one’s okay, right?” he asked, turning to Sister Anne.
The nuns stared at him with their mouths hanging open, except the little one who tossed him a wink.
“I like him,” she said, rubbing her wrinkly hands together.
He glanced at the women and then to Natalie. He couldn’t let her down.
“Sure, I can be Adam,” he said as resolutely as one can when being ogled by a feisty, pint-sized woman of God.
“Adam didn’t wear clothes,” Sister Evangeline added, undressing him with her eyes.
“Are you sure?” he asked, forgetting who he was talking to.
“Maybe just take off your shirt,” Natalie offered.
“My shirt?”
“And the hat,” the little nun ordered.
He went up to Natalie, glanced back at the smiling sisters, then bent down to whisper into his fake girlfriend’s ear. “Is this normal?”
“I sketched nudes in college. It’s not that uncommon,” she answered.
“Heels, I think those horny nuns want to see me naked,” he whispered back.
“They’re not horny nuns.” She glanced over his shoulder, then covered her mouth with her hand. “Well, maybe one is, but the rest seem okay.”
“Do you think this is funny?” he asked, chancing another glance at the women.
She held back a grin. “It is kind of funny?”
He let out a sigh. “It is kind of funny.”
He turned to face the women, then slowly removed his hat and T-shirt.
The little nun’s gaze raked over his body. “Now, that’s an Adam.”
“What’s going on in here?”
He whipped around to find Hal and Bev Woolwich standing in the doorway.
Natalie came to his side. “Hi, Grandma and Grandpa. I was going to lead the class in a sketching exercise.”
Bev entered the room with a creased brow. “Why is Jake half-naked?”
“Because your theme is Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, and we needed an Adam,” she answered.
Bev’s eyes twinkled, just like Natalie’s. “Yes, but we’re sketching still life, like apples and other fruits. That’s where the Garden of Eden theme came into play.”
“You’re not sketching nudes?” he asked, throwing a disapproving glare at the brides of Christ who, remarkably, looked quite pleased with themselves.
“Goodness, no,” Bev chuckled.
He turned from Bev and met the little nun’s eye.
She shrugged. “It was worth a shot.”
“We saw Fish downstairs,” Bev began addressing the nuns. “Sisters, I’m sorry that the schedule got mixed-up. I’m not sure how it happened.”
“It sounds like Natalie saved the day, though,” Hal added.
Natalie waved off the praise. “It was nothing. I just told everyone where to go.”
The old man’s features remained neutral. “No one else stepped up.”
“Jake helped, too,” she added.
Hal nodded. “How about you get dressed, Jake, and join me while I go check on the Elks Club?”
“I’d be glad to,” he replied, then took Natalie’s hand. “Unless you need me to stay.”
She smiled up at him with a look of such genuine gratitude the breath caught in his throat.
“Oh, we’ll be fine, dear. And Natalie can help me teach the sisters the four main shading techniques,” Bev answered, retrieving a bowl of oranges from the shelf as Sister Evangeline grumbled.
Natalie squeezed his hand. “I’m good. It’ll be nice to teach with my grandmother.”
He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I’ll see you later.”
His fake girlfriend released a tiny gasp, clearly not expecting the kiss. They were supposed to be putting up a ruse of being a couple, faking a connection.
But he wasn’t pretending.
It felt natural.
Shit.
Hal tapped the doorframe. “Let’s head out, Jake. It looks like Bev and Nat have things under control.”
“Yes, sir! Absolutely,” he answered, whipping on his shirt, then grabbing his hat.
He needed some distance from playing the good boyfriend. That had to be it. They’d spent every moment together since he joined her in line at the airport, which seemed like a lifetime ago.
“Be good, you two,” Bev called after them.
He glanced over his shoulder into the art room and caught Natalie smiling and grazing her fingertips across her lips.
This con was getting complicated.
“Life happens fast here,” Hal said, leading him out of the lodge.
“Natalie said each hour feels like a day,” he answered, trying without much luck to get her out of his head. He couldn’t squander this one-on-one time with Hal. Any information he could glean from the head of the Woolwich family could be imperative in his plan to persuade the man to sell.
“It’s more like each hour feels like a month. There’s not a lot of bullshit when it comes to life at Camp Woolwich. Time is precious, and the moments here count.” The man stopped walking and inhaled a deep breath. “Do you mind if we rest for a second?”
“Sure,” he answered and stared at the waterfront, teeming with kids swimming and splashing as a pair of Sunfish sailboats bobbed with the current.
“Do you sail?” Hal asked.
He shook his head. “Not anymore.”
“I see,” the man replied.
“It’
s beautiful here,” he said, hoping to shift the conversation away from himself.
“You’d know a thing or two about that, wouldn’t you, Mr. Teller?”
The breath caught in his throat. “I don’t understand what you mean, Hal.”
“You’re in real estate, right?” the man pressed, then gestured for them to start walking.
Dammit!
Hal chuckled. “It’s not a bad thing, Jake. I heard it through the Woolwich grapevine. You must have mentioned it at breakfast.”
Jake’s gaze dropped to the ground. “I didn’t think anyone was listening.”
Hal glanced at him. “You’re the newcomer, Natalie’s Jake. Everyone is interested.”
Natalie’s Jake.
What would this man think if he learned he wasn’t? But he couldn’t go there. He’d cross that bridge when he had to—after the deal was done. Now, he had to brush all thoughts of Natalie Callahan aside and transition into sales mode.
He schooled his features. “That’s right. I work in commercial real estate.”
“What do you think of our little slice of Maine?” Hal asked, gesturing to the coastline.
“I think you’re in possession of some valuable real estate,” he answered, relaxing into the song and dance of talking shop.
Hal nodded. “Do you have a number in your head?”
Jake stilled. That caught him off guard.
“Off the top of my head?” he asked, doing his best to hide the surprise in his voice.
“Sure,” Hal answered, crossing his arms as if they were simply discussing the price of a carton of eggs and not the value of the man’s life’s work.
“Ten, maybe fifteen,” he replied, pretending to come up with a number.
The dance had begun, and he always started low.
Hal raised an eyebrow. “Ten or fifteen million?”
Jake nodded. “With the cove and access to the ocean, not to mention the wildlife preserve, I’d say that your land is worth a substantial amount of money.”
“Hmm,” the man hummed, staring across the cove and giving him the New Englander non-answer.
“Are you considering any alternative plans for the land?” he asked, choosing his words carefully. There was an art to closing a deal, and that started with planting the seed. In the end, if he’d done his job right, Hal and Bev would believe that they were the ones who came up with the idea to sell.
The Kiss Keeper Page 12