“Stamps? Who uses snail mail anymore? Don’t you have email?” Devon asked incredulously.
I nearly rolled my eyes, but somehow managed to refrain. I was beginning to think Fitz had all the brains in that operation. I had half a mind to dub them Batman and Robin. While Fitz seemed calm, cool, and collected, Devon seemed to have more foolish impulses. He was like a toddler who had yet to learn manners.
“We don’t have internet on site, nor do we have computers available for student or staff use,” I told him. He pinched his face up as if he were dumbfounded by the idea. I wasn’t about to explain the astronomical cost of computers to someone who clearly didn’t understand the value of a dollar. Instead, I said, “This is a camp for the arts. The students here don’t care about keeping up with their America Online accounts. Many don’t even have one. Besides, there’s something to be said about handwritten letters. Pen and ink add personality that cannot be achieved with a keyboard.”
Devon shrugged and slouched against the back wall.
“I guess I’m just used to Georgetown. When we’re there, they make it seem like–”
“Dude! Does this place look like Georgetown? Stop being a tool and let the lady talk,” Fitz snapped at Devon, then turned to me. “I apologize for my friend. Please continue.”
A sizzle of intrigue with a shot of terror raced down my spine. As much as I admired Fitz for standing up to his friend, I found myself eyeing him warily. I still didn’t trust him. I had a feeling he was just trying to get into my good graces. I watched the terrifyingly beautiful boy carefully, only to find a third wave of butterflies hit my stomach when he casually ran a hand across the back of his cropped dark hair. His eyes met mine–gorgeous pools of gray, hooded with thick dark lashes. There was mischief swirling amidst those slate grays, and I could only imagine the thoughts that were running through his mind. Naughty things–of that I was sure.
When the corner of his mouth tilted up in a crooked smile, it was a real struggle to suppress the sigh that wanted to escape my lips. My pulse quickened again, and I had to fight the flush that threatened to flood my cheeks.
Jesus take the wheel. I have officially gone off the road.
“Thank you, Fitz,” I acknowledged, trying desperately to maintain my composure. “Now, where was I?”
I continued on, giving each cabin leader their instructions for the evening and told them where to report with their students in the morning. After answering a few questions, the leaders began to leave one-by-one and head toward their assigned cabins. Once they all left, I was alone with Batman and Robin.
This should be fun.
I gave them both an overly sweet smile and beckoned the two troublemakers with my finger to follow me. Fitz–as arrogant as he seemed–actually looked nervous about what lied ahead. I walked ahead of them, out of the cool air of Creator Hall, and into the humid air outside. I didn’t look back to see if they were following, but I could hear them whispering behind me. I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I only heard the occasional hiss from Fitz telling his friend to shut his mouth.
I stopped when we came to the barn that stood a little less than an eighth of a mile from the main hall. I opened the expansive red barn doors and gestured them inside. As expected, my father was inside, surrounded by his collection of tools, mops, and brooms. He appeared to be trying to fix a large metal wheel of some sort. His hands were filthy, and I noticed a black grease smudge on his left cheek.
“Hey, Daddy,” I called out cheerfully as I made my way toward him. He smiled when he saw me, causing the age lines on his tanned face to deepen.
“Cadence! How are you, kid? Survive the first day okay?”
“Ask me tomorrow. It still isn’t over,” I joked.
“Tell me about it. It’s only day one, and already an axle for one of the stage curtain pulleys broke free. Your momma was fit to be tied.”
“I’m sure I’ll hear all about it later,” I laughed. “I heard you saying at dinner the other night you were a little short staffed this summer. I came to offer you some help. I’d like you to meet Fitzgerald Quinn and Devon Wilkshire. I thought janitorial duties would be a great fit for them. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of work to keep them busy.”
And that was something I was certain of. My father was nothing short of amazing, and I loved him dearly, but he was no-nonsense. After all, he was the master carpenter for every building in the camp. It was his sweat and blood that brought my mother’s vision to life. There was no doubt he’d make sure these boys ended the summer with more than a few hard calluses. If I was a betting girl, I’d wager Fitz and Devon knew it too. I could feel their glares without even having to look at them.
“I’m sure I’ll have more than enough work to keep these boys busy!” my father laughed. Turning to Fitz and Devon, he wiped the grease from his hands on a rag before reaching out to shake theirs. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Jameson Riley, but the people around here call me Mr. Jimmy. What cabin will you boys be staying in?”
Both Devon and Fitz turned to me questioningly.
“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” I asked with fake innocence. “We’re booked solid this year, so you’ll be staying here, in the loft of the barn.”
I smiled and turned on my heel, leaving both to stare wide-eyed in my wake.
3
FITZ
Pissed as all hell, I threw my duffle bag down on the mattress in the barn loft. Calling it a mattress was a stretch. It was actually just a large pad spread over a couple of bales of hay. Yes, hay. I was going to be sleeping like the goddamn hired farm help. I guessed, in a way, I was. Only I wasn’t getting paid to be here.
“This is your fault,” I snapped at Devon. “You could have just kept your mouth shut, but no. You had to be a dick, and now, that chick is gunning for us. I mean, she made us fucking janitors!”
He waved me off as he unpacked a few things from his bag.
“Me? I believe you pissed her off first when you called her sweetheart. Seriously, man. Did you see her face?”
“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have done that,” I admitted.
“Relax. Tonight wasn’t that bad. All Mr. Jimmy made us do was sweep some shit up in the main hall. Where else could Miss Bossy-Pants-Cadence have assigned us? Did you think you’d be assigned to teach dance?”
“Yeah, sure.” I scoffed. The idea was laughable. “Honestly, you’re probably right. You heard that girl Sophie’s resume. They wouldn’t have assigned us to any of the students in this place. We don’t know anything about any of this artsy crap. Only the cream of the crop teaches here.”
“Oh, yeah. Sophie was definitely the cream of the crop alright. Kind of makes me wish I was assigned to be a dance teacher. I wouldn’t mind that one dancing around my dick.”
I raised a curious brow.
“What happened to the flute player? Not old enough?”
“Oh, hell no. I told you I wouldn’t make that mistake. Didn’t you see her at the camp leader meeting? Her name is Jessica, and she’s twenty. It’s her second summer teaching here. She’s with the music protégés,” he told me. He flashed a sly smile and added, “I’m leaving to meet up with her in just a few minutes.”
I grinned.
“Is she bringing the flute?”
“I hope so,” Devon said with a waggle of his eyebrows.
I shook my head and laughed.
“You move fast, man. Have fun.”
“Why don’t you come with me? Maybe she has a friend.”
“Nah, you go on ahead. I think I’m going to head over to the bathhouse and grab a shower.”
“Don’t be a pussy. Come out,” Devon pushed. I briefly considered going with him. If his flute player had a friend, a bit of female company might distract me from the miserable situation I was in. The problem was, I didn’t want just any female to keep me company. I only wanted one.
Cadence.
I had no idea why I wanted her. She was a pain in the ass, a prissy know-it-all. If
her rigid posture was any sort of insight, I’d say she was a prude too.
She was also off limits. The forbidden fruit.
Yet I couldn’t stop thinking about her. It didn’t make sense, she wasn’t even my type.
I glanced over at Devon who was slipping on a pair of leather dock shoes. I wanted to tell him what I was thinking about Cadence–the girl whose vanilla smell was like an addicting drug I never wanted to stop sniffing–but when I spoke, I couldn’t find the words to describe what I was thinking.
“From what Mr. Jimmy said, he expects us to report by six tomorrow morning,” I replied instead. “I want to hit the hay early tonight.”
Devon burst out laughing.
“Hit the hay! I never understood that expression until now!”
My brow furrowed in confusion until I saw where Devon was pointing. I followed his finger to the bale of hay that would be my bed for the next three months. Realization dawned, and I smirked.
Fucking ridiculous.
Despite Devon’s hysteria, I wasn’t finding any of this remotely funny. I felt like I was living in a present-day version of Little House on the goddamned Prairie.
“Don’t be too late, man,” I warned. “I’m not going to be responsible for dragging your ass out of bed in the morning.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t be jealous because I’m getting action on day one while you sit here like a shmuck,” he said as he swung himself over the top rung of the ladder. “I’ll catch you later.”
I watched Devon’s head disappear down the ladder and sighed. Today had been one long ass day. I was hot, sweaty, and miserable. The idea of a shower never sounded so good. Unzipping my duffle bag, I grabbed my toiletries and a fresh pair of gym shorts, tossed it all into a smaller drawstring bag, and followed Devon’s path down the ladder.
After exiting the barn, I glanced around at the camp. It was heavy and quiet. So quiet. Bugs hummed in the massive trees that hugged the still night, and the sound of crickets was the only noise that could be heard. It was a sharp contrast to all the ruckus during the dinner hour. Overeager students had piled into Creator Hall, acting like they hadn’t eaten in a week, swarming the place like vultures. By the time Devon and I got there to grab our dinner, it was slim pickings. We learned right then and there, we’d have to get to the hall early if we had any hopes of getting anything decent to eat.
Now, it appeared the students were tucked in for the night, yet it was barely ten o’clock. I didn’t mind. Hopefully, that meant I’d have a peaceful shower.
When I entered the bathhouse, it wasn’t anything like I would have expected. Perhaps I assumed I’d find something reminiscent of my sleeping arrangements, but it was more in line with the modern look of Creator Hall. Ceramic tile lined the floors and walls, the silver bath fixtures looked like they had recently been polished to a sparkling clean. The wall to my right had shelves lined with multi-colored towels while the adjacent wall held a long horizontal mirror and countertop with at least twenty individual sinks. Straight ahead, there was a separate room, I assumed where the showers were located. After grabbing a towel from one of the shelves, I headed in that direction.
Twenty minutes later, I was showered and dressed in a pair of gym shorts, not bothering with a t-shirt. It would most likely just become drenched in sweat once I stepped outside. It didn’t matter that the sun had set, the night was still hotter than hell. The slight breeze from earlier in the day had died, causing the stagnant air to be even more humid and sticky.
As I approached the doors to the barn, I slowed my steps. I didn’t feel like going to bed just yet. I felt restless for some reason. Perhaps it was the quiet of the dark night. I wasn’t used to it. Having spent the last four years at Georgetown University, the campus was often bustling with something or another, especially in the dorms. I began to regret not going with Devon. At the very least, it would have given me something to do.
On impulse, I dumped my drawstring bag inside the main doors to the barn. I wanted to explore this place and see what I was really in for this summer. The camp was surrounded by woods. There had to be hiking trails of some sort. Holding onto that hope, I headed toward the outskirts of the camp.
As I walked, I passed numerous cottages. All of them had artsy names like Clarinet Chalet and Harmony Hearth. Even the path I walked on was called Watercolor Way. I supposed some would call it charming. To me, it just screamed boredom. It wasn’t like I didn’t appreciate those with talent. Hell, step-mother number three used to drag me to the Kennedy Center in D.C. to watch performances more times than I could count. Although I never admitted it to her, I actually enjoyed the plays and musicals I saw. It was an escape from reality–even if it was only for a few hours. However, watching was one thing. Being in the thick of a production was something entirely different, and it definitely was not my thing.
Once I reached the edge of the camp, a thrill of excitement shot through me when I saw a dirt path leading into the woods. It wasn’t very wide, narrowing in areas where the brush had become overgrown. Still, it looked like it was in use. I could see where plants had recently been trampled. Taking that as a good sign, I continued on.
The path was winding and downhill but relatively short. Thankfully, there was a full moon, allowing enough light to seep through the trees so I could see where I was going. After about ten minutes of walking, I reached the bottom of the hill. The trees parted to reveal a wide span of flat earth with a decent sized lake in the middle of it. The moon reflected off the glass surface, creating a mirror for the tall oaks and pines that surrounded it. I glanced around, expecting to find more artsy named buildings, but there were none. The only structure was a small dock straight ahead of where I stood.
Jackpot.
The location was nothing short of amazing. Assuming I was allowed free time, I’d be spending much of it here. I could make it my own retreat, a respite of sorts before I needed to go back to the reality that was my life in September.
A pang of dread hit me when I thought about the future my father had already decided for me. The last time I saw him, the conversation had been grim. I was out of options. He officially owned my ass. His parting words to me rang in my mind.
“We’ll go public with the news once you complete your sentence. Thankfully, we managed to keep your screw up out of the papers. Your absence will be a simple explanation. We’ll tell everyone you were away on a volunteer mission working with kids. The press will eat it up. Then we’ll say, now that you’ve returned, you can’t wait to begin the next phase of your life. The date has already been set. Plans will be finalized while you’re gone. You have three months. Don’t fuck it up between now and then.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. Trying to push the thoughts away, I took a few steps toward the dock.
I stopped short when I heard a rustling to my left. A golden streak darted from the edge of the woods about five hundred yards away. It bounded onto the dock before coming to a stop at the edge. It was a dog, a golden retriever to be exact. It was looking back at the spot where it had come from, wagging its tail expectantly. My eyes trailed over to where the dog was looking.
And that’s when I heard her.
“Dahlia, wait for me, girl!”
Cadence emerged from the woods at a slight jog, her golden hair glowing under the light of the moon. Her hand was wrapped around the handle of a rectangular box of some sort, but I couldn’t make out exactly what it was.
I don’t know why, but I panicked. It was like I was afraid of being caught even though I hadn’t done anything wrong. I retreated backward a few steps until I reached the dirt path. Concealing myself in the dark cover of the forest, I squatted down behind a tree and peered around it.
When Cadence reached the dock, the dog circled impatiently around her legs as she set the box on the wooden planks beneath her feet. She reached down and scratched the dog behind her ears, then pulled a stick from the back pocket of her jean shorts. She teased the dog with it for a moment or two,
making the dog bark and jump. I heard her laugh, a throaty and melodious sound before she threw the stick in the lake. The dog was off like a shot, bounding off the dock and into the lake with a loud splash, disturbing the calmness of the night.
I watched the dog amidst the rippling water for a moment before turning my attention back to Cadence. She was bent down over the box at her feet. A second later, music began to play. It was then that I realized that the box she had been carrying was a Boombox. I didn’t think people actually used those anymore. From the size of it, it had to be an older model. The sound of U2 poured through the speakers, the music carrying effortlessly in the still air.
The dog returned, and the pair continued to play fetch. My eyes stayed glued to Cadence. I couldn’t stop watching her. Just looking at her knocked the air from my lungs. I was mesmerized.
Her hair was still piled on the top of her head in that haphazard knot. With the way the moonlight shone behind her, I could see a few wavy pieces falling around her face, creating a halo effect. Her white t-shirt clung to her body, tucked tightly into the waistband of her jean shorts. She was stunning. Gorgeous. And so incredibly sexy. The whole package sent a shiver of lust through my veins, prodding at my dick. No girl had ever incited such a reaction from me.
Unexpectedly, she reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. A rush of air filled my lungs and my balls tightened. When she bent to remove her shorts, I swore under my breath.
“Shit!”
The last thing I needed was to be caught being a peeping tom. I needed to get the hell out of there; however, I paused when I realized she was wearing a bikini underneath her clothing. Unable to tear my eyes away, my gaze traveled the shape of her curves, completely entranced as I watched her move to the edge of the dock. Raising her arms above her head, she dove into the water and disappeared from sight.
Cadence Untouched: A Dahlia Project Novel Page 3