�But buying is so much more fun.� With a sigh she put the box inside the glass case where we kept fragile and expensive souvenirs. �If Noah ever asks you what he can get me, be sure to tell him I like music boxes.�
�He should know you well enough that he shouldn�t have to ask us,� Amy said.
�Get real. Guys are totally clueless when it comes to knowing what a girl wants.�
�So true,� Mrs. P said. �I have a rule. Nothing that plugs in or is stored in the garage.�
We laughed, Mrs. P smiled. �You think I�m kidding. But one year I got a hydraulic floor jack.�
�Why?� I asked.
Mrs. P shook her head. �Haven�t a clue.�
�I think I�ll have a serious talk with Noah,� Chelsea said. �I really don�t want anything like that.�
�Oh, look at these,� Amy said. She held up a pair of dolphin-shaped earrings. Most of our souvenir jewelry had some sort of nautical design. She looked at Mrs. P. �We get a discount on the souvenirs, too, right?�
�Right.�
�I�m going to get these.� Amy set them aside.
�Then I�m going to get the music box,� Chelsea said.
They had no willpower. I had to admit that opening the boxes, checking to see what had come in was a lot like opening presents at Christmas. The difference was that you weren�t supposed to keep what was inside. Before I could remind them about our budget, Mrs. P said, �Jennifer, did you want to take your lunch break?�
�Sure. I�ll be by the pool if you need me.�
I went into the office and grabbed my beach bag. These were the lazy days, before the madness that would arrive this weekend, and I intended to make the most of it. And not by buying souvenirs. As I went through the door, putting on my sunglasses, I could hear Amy and Chelsea exclaiming over another terrific find, and Mrs. P laughing. She probably should have sent them to lunch early, so we�d have souvenirs left for our customers.
I crossed over to the pool, opened the gate, and went inside. Only one of the chaise lounges looked occupied. A rumpled towel was resting on one end. I could see a body streaking beneath the water. I went to the other side of the pool and dropped onto a chaise. I took off my shoes and pulled off my CCR shirt and shorts. I was wearing my bathing suit. My belly button ring was a dolphin that curved around my navel. Seeing it reflecting in the sunlight forced me to admit that last summer I�d been as bad as Amy and Chelsea when it came to opening the boxes of souvenirs. I was beyond that this summer. I truly was. I wasn�t going to look to see if we�d gotten another pair of dolphin earrings.
I gathered up my hair, twisted it, and clipped it on top of my head. I opened my bag and pulled out the old reliable X-Men-strength lotion. I�d only be out here for about fifteen minutes, but still�
�Need help putting that on?�
I shifted my gaze to the pool. Blue Eyes stood in the shallow end, water dripping from his hair, down his chest. I�d thought maybe he was the one gliding through the water. Okay, �thought� was too tame a word. I�d desperately hoped. Could I get any more pathetic?
�Your hands are wet,� I said lamely.
�They dry off�I know how to use a towel.�
Of course he did. I�d hoped to see him, and now I didn�t know where to take that hope. I reached into my bag and pulled out my towel. �If you�re sure you don�t mind.�
He grinned. �Are you crazy? I�m a guy. You�re a girl. Why would I mind?�
He put his hands on the side of the pool and hoisted himself out of the water. Oh, my goodness. He was beautiful. Bronzed. I figured he spent a lot of his time in the sun and surf. The whole idea behind camping on the beach, I guessed.
He took the towel and sat on the edge of the chaise, slightly behind me, so he could get to my back more easily.
�I thought you�d be out exploring the island,� I said.
�Late night. Zach is still asleep.�
I wasn�t going to ask him what he�d been doing that kept him out so late�or with whom he might have been doing it. It was truly none of my business. No matter how badly I wanted to ask.
He tossed the towel in front of me and took the bottle. I held my breath, waiting for that first touch.
�I saw you last night,� he said.
My breath rushed out with his comment, then he was gliding the lotion on my back and shoulders.
�Where?� I asked.
�At the Sandpiper.�
Which meant he saw the Noah and Chelsea show. I was totally embarrassed. I felt a need to explain. �Chelsea and Noah hadn�t seen each other for a while.�
�That would be the couple you were with.�
�Right. The other girl is Amy. They�re my roommates.�
�You live on the island?� he asked.
I nodded. �My grandparents are lending us their beach house for the summer.�
�Cool.�
�It really is. I love being on the island.�
�Why? It�s hot. Sand gets into everything. Seagulls are forever dropping little surprises on you. The breeze blows constantly.�
I twisted around and stared at him. �If you don�t like the island, why are you here?�
�I do like it. I�m just wondering why you do.�
How to explain?
�The attitude. One summer, I was walking by some shops in the middle of the day with my granddad. We passed a little shop that was closed. The owner had taped a handwritten sign to the door. Closed due to lack of interest. Come back tomorrow.
�My granddad told me the guy was on �island time.� He says when you�re on the island you should just let your moods guide you. He doesn�t even wear a watch.�
�Island time. I like that. Too bad I�m not on it right now.� He handed my lotion back to me and stood. �I need to hit the shower before I lose my privileges.�
I looked up at him, feeling disappointed and guilty. Wishing we were both on island time right now. �I�d extend them if I could.�
�Don�t worry about it. I understand how business works. I�ll see you around.�
I hope so, I thought. Of course, I didn�t say it. I just flopped back on the chair, wishing I could do something. If he was here for the showers, and the showers became off limits, would he leave? And if he did, would I care?
�He�s going into the army at the end of the summer,� I told Mr. P.
We were inside the marina where he was checking in the order of supplies he�d received. This week was all about gearing up for the summer ahead.
�I see,� he murmured.
�You were in the army,� I reminded him.
He looked at me. I�d finally gotten his attention.
�What do you want, Jennifer?�
I didn�t really know.
�I thought maybe you could make an exception? Service to our country and all that? I don�t think he can afford to pay ten dollars every day for a shower.�
�How long is he staying?�
�I�m not sure.�
He puckered his lips, slipped his finger beneath his cap, and scratched his head. �Okay. I can use extra help through the weekend. If he�s willing to give me a couple of hours each morning on the maintenance crew, then he can use the showers, no charge. If he�s interested, tell him to come talk to me.�
�Okay. Thanks!�
I hurried out of the marina, a towel wrapped around my waist, and my flip-flops flapping. I didn�t have much time left to take a quick shower and get back into uniform. And I still hadn�t eaten the sandwich I�d packed for lunch. I rounded the corner of the main building, heading for Dylan�s tent when I saw him walking from the showers.
No, he didn�t walk exactly. He prowled. Long, sure strides. A loose-jointed kind of walk, like he wasn�t in any hurry. That he�d get where he wanted to be when he wanted to be there.
He was in jeans, a T-shirt, and boots. His bike-riding getup, no doubt.
�
��Dylan!� I called and waved.
He stopped and I rushed over. He was grinning by the time I got there.
�Hey, need more lotion put on your back?� he asked.
I laughed. �No, but thanks anyway. I just wanted to tell you that I talked with the owner.� I told him about Mr. P�s offer.
�What would I be doing?� he asked.
I shrugged. �Whatever needs to be done. Picking up trash, cleaning the showers. Whatever.�
�A couple of hours a day, huh?�
I nodded. �Yeah.�
�Sounds fair enough. I�ll talk to him.� His lopsided grin grew and he touched my shoulder. �Thanks for looking out for me.�
My heart did that trying-to-burst-through-my-chest thing. �Sure. No problem.�
I watched him walk away. At least now I knew he was planning to stay through the weekend.
CHAPTER 9
�When is Noah leaving?� I asked.
It was Friday morning, the big Memorial Day weekend was upon us, and Amy and I were both a little stressed as we stood in the kitchen. We�d ended up taking the videos back last night without a chance to watch them, because Noah had taken permanent possession of the TV�s remote and parked his butt on the couch all week. Chelsea was using the last of our eggs to cook him an omelet.
�Chelsea, when is Noah leaving?� I asked again, with a little more firmness in my voice.
She shrugged. �He�s not.�
�What do you mean he�s not?� Amy asked.
�You�re smart,� Chelsea said. �What do you think it means?�
�He can�t stay here forever,� I said.
Chelsea looked at me as though I was nuts.
�Chill. Of course not,� she said.
For a second I felt relieved.
�He�ll leave at the end of the summer, like all of us.�
Then I felt like fireworks had gone off inside my head. �He can�t stay here! He wasn�t part of the arrangement we made with my grandparents.�
A visible ripple went through her, from the top of her head to her bare feet. �I have a bedroom, I pay a third of the bills. I should be able to do whatever I want with that room. And I want to share it with Noah. He doesn�t want to go anywhere without me.�
�You pay a third of the bills, but Noah is a fourth person in the house.�
�You know, Jen, you�re going to do great majoring in business, because you have this counting thing down pat,� she said snidely.
�Chelsea, he spends an hour in the shower. That�s a lot of water. Which we have to pay for. He eats our food like it�s free. He hogs the TV. He does no chores. He doesn�t help us out at all. He contributes nothing except sand on the floor.� Sand that I found myself sweeping up twice a day.
�Were you practicing that little speech all night?�
I looked to Amy for help, but all she did was nod and say, �It was good.�
I sighed. She might not want Chelsea mad at her, but she was making me mad. I turned back to Chelsea. �He can�t stay.�
�I love him.�
She gave me a defiant glare, as though those three little words were all it took to make everything all right.
�Don�t you want me to be happy?� she added.
How could I argue with that? If I said I wanted her to be happy, then she�d say that she needed Noah�and if I said that I didn�t want her to be happy, then I�d be lying.
She smiled triumphantly, picked up the plate of eggs, and walked out of the kitchen.
They were demons. Every one of them. Disguised as normal people going camping.
Their trailers were too big for the campsites; the sites were too small for the trailers. They didn�t like their neighbor. They liked another site better and wanted to move. But in the meantime that site had been rented to someone else�.
It was madness, mayhem, insanity.
Instead of getting off at five, Amy, Chelsea, and I ended up working until eight, even though the next shift had arrived. We were simply bombarded with too many people trying to get registered, trying to buy things in the store, wanting snacks from the snack bar.
By the time Mrs. P finally cut us loose, I was completely worn out. And still brooding over the Noah situation and my inability to come up with a response for Chelsea that would make her see things my way.
I didn�t want to lose Chelsea as a friend, and I didn�t know how to make her understand that Noah wasn�t part of the equation when we�d made our plans for the summer.
Amy started the car and we headed out of the campground. We were on the main road, driving at a fast clip before Amy spoke. �I can�t believe how tired I am. Where do all these people come from? And why are they addicted to hot dogs?�
�Rough day?� I asked.
�Like you would not believe. Even though I�m inside, I get so hot working behind the snack bar��
�Speaking of hot,� Chelsea interrupted. �Why is steam coming out from under the hood of your car?�
I unbuckled and scooted forward. Sure enough, there was a little vapor trail easing out from beneath the hood and quickly disappearing. �What�s your temperature gauge show?�
�It�s heading toward the red.�
�Then you�d better pull over.�
Amy drove off the road onto the grass and turned off the engine. All three of us groaned at once.
�This is so not good,� Chelsea said. �I�ll call Noah.�
Was it possible that Noah�s value was about to show itself? Amy and I got out of the car and walked around to the front. There was actually quite a bit of traffic whizzing by, but no one was stopping. The start of a holiday weekend, and everyone had places to go, things to do.
�What should we do?� she asked.
�I guess we should open the hood.�
�Do we even know what we�re looking for?�
�Probably a busted hose or something.�
�Let�s just wait for Noah.�
Chelsea climbed out of the car. �He�s not answering his phone.�
Great! His one chance to be a knight in shining armor.
�So what now?� I asked.
�I guess we wave someone down,� Chelsea said.
�No way!� Amy said. �Haven�t you seen Breakdown?�
�That was fiction,� I said.
�Based on fact,� Amy said.
�No, it wasn�t,� I said.
�When did you get to be such a scaredy cat?� Chelsea asked.
�I�m cautious.�
�You�re chicken.�
�Guys, this isn�t helping. Let�s just open the hood and see what we can figure out.� Besides, I thought an open hood would serve as an SOS to the passersby who had yet to realize that a car sitting on the side of the road wasn�t normal.
Two motorcycles whizzed by, headed toward town, then one did a U-turn, followed by the other.
�Help might be on the way,� I said.
They cut across the road and onto the grass, coming to a stop just short of the car. It sounded like thunder rumbling around us. They cut the engines, but my ears still rung with the sound. Then they removed their helmets. And I knew an instant of gladness that went far beyond the fact that these were guys and fixing cars was a guy thing.
�Looks like you got trouble,� Dylan said as he strode over to me.
�Yeah.�
�My boyfriend isn�t answering his phone,� Chelsea said.
Dylan looked at her, nodded, then turned his attention back to me. �Want us to take a look?�
�Definitely.�
I made quick introductions. Zach ducked into the car to release the latch on the hood, then Dylan lifted it. I tried not to notice the way his muscles rippled, but it was a little hard not to when his dark gray T-shirt stretched across his back. He was way buff.
�He must work out,� Chelsea whispered, and there was definite appreciation in her voice.
Amy eased to
ward the car and stood on her toes to look under the hood�like she thought the additional distance would either give her a better view or keep her safe from any boiling water. �So?� she asked.
Dylan smiled at her, and I wished I�d eased up to look under the hood. �Busted hose. Easy enough to fix.� He turned and looked up the road in the direction that they�d been going�toward Surf Town. �Zach, you want to head into town and see if you can find an auto shop?�
�Sure. Who wants to go with me?� Zach grinned, while we were all exchanging glances. �Come on. Don�t be shy. I can�t handle the motorcycle and hold a hose.�
�I guess I�ll go since it�s my car,� Amy said, sounding a little like she was answering a summons to ride into hell.
After Zach and Amy left on his motorcycle, Chelsea walked off, holding the phone to her ear, trying to get in touch with Noah, I guessed. Dylan took a multipurpose knife out of his pocket. He pulled out a section that could be used as a screwdriver and went to work loosening the clamps that held the busted hose in place. I leaned against the hood, watching.
�It sure was our good luck that you came by,� I said.
A motor home drove past us, headed for the campground.
�Someone else would have stopped,� Dylan said.
Only no one else had. I watched the way his forearm bunched up as he worked. The silence started to get uncomfortable, and I thought I should say something.
�So, did you talk with Mr. Plackette?�
�Sure did. Zach and I have been cleaning bathrooms at the crack of dawn,� he said, not looking up from his work. He�d loosened one clamp and was reaching down to get to the one holding the other end of the hose in place.
�Oh, sorry, didn�t know he�d have you at it so early,� I said.
�Not a problem. He wants it done before people start getting up. Makes sense. Plus it leaves most of the day free for me and Zach to do what we want.�
He grunted and twisted, which brought him a little closer to me. He�d definitely showered recently. I could smell some type of spicy scent coming off his skin.
�And you get to use the showers,� I said inanely.
He turned his head, our noses almost touching. I didn�t realize until that moment exactly how far I�d leaned over. Why don�t you just fall over him, Jen?
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