by Ann DeFee
“I see her! She’s down there!” CiCi pointed toward a clump of trees that only yesterday had been on dry ground, but was now surrounded by an eddy of brown water. Angel’s golden hair had caught CiCi’s attention, and she realized the child was clinging to a tree branch. They had to get her out of there right away.
Jake took one look and without a word, raced down the slight incline. CiCi tripped and slid trying to keep up with him.
“God, what a mess!” Jake put both hands on his head. “I’m going to have to go out there and get her.” He motioned for CiCi to remain where she was while he moved closer to the raging water.
She was supposed to stay high and dry while he risked his life? No way! All of a sudden she had an idea.
“Don’t do anything until I get back,” CiCi shouted to be heard over the roar of the river. “Rondelle, come with me,” she told the teen. “We’re going to get some life jackets and a rope. Don’t move a muscle, ’ya hear!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jake replied with a mock salute.
THERE WAS SO MUCH DEBRIS swirling around Angel that Jake was shocked she could hold on. And there was no telling how long that would last. He did a quick estimate of the distance between the bank and the tree. It was no more than ten feet and normally that wouldn’t be a problem. In these conditions, it was an abyss.
Jake’s brain was going a mile a minute, trying to come up with a plan, when CiCi returned, carrying a bright orange ski vest and several life preservers. Rondelle was right behind her with a coil of rope looped over his shoulder.
“Don’t come down here—it’s too dangerous.” Jake didn’t want CiCi that close to the water, but he sure could use the group of burly counselors she had with her. Thank God the cavalry had arrived.
“Oh, all right,” she conceded.
“You guys be careful getting down!” Jake yelled, the noise of the water almost drowning him out. “It’s slick. And, Greg, Keep the kids up on the top of the hill, especially Rondelle.” His favorite juvie was the most likely to try something silly, and the last thing they needed was someone else in the drink. Jake grabbed the ski vest CiCi tossed him and slipped it on. Heaven help them, they were on their own. Whatever they did, they’d better do it pretty damned quick.
Jake called the college kids over and told them his idea. “I’m going to tie a rope around my waist and jump in upstream. Then I’m going to try to swim to the tree. And after I get Angel tied to me, you guys pull like mad. I’m counting on you.” He was hoping like hell he wasn’t too heavy for this plan to work. These young men were literally his lifeline in this skirmish with the river. If they let go, he and Angel were both in a ton of trouble.
Chapter Eighteen
This was officially the most terrifying day of CiCi’s life. Was Jake really going to jump into the river roiling with debris, and snakes and who knew what else? It would be a miracle if he made it out alive. Please, God. Please, God. Please, God!
CiCi muttered the prayer over and over. She didn’t notice when Greg had joined her.
“I just thought you’d want to know. The kids are all okay,” he said. “A couple of the boys are hot to come down and help. But don’t worry, my crew has everything under control. And I’ve stationed someone at the front gate to show the emergency folks where we are when they get here.”
CiCi couldn’t keep her eyes off the activity at the water’s edge. “Good. We don’t need anyone else getting hurt.”
“Do you want to go down there and see if we can help?” Greg asked, referring to the area where Jake and the counselors were mounting the rescue effort.
“Jake’s going to have a fit, but yeah, let’s go. But first let’s put these on.” CiCi handed Greg one of the extra life preservers.
“Good idea,” he said as he slipped into the orange vest. “Let me go in front. Maybe I can stop us if we start to fall.” Greg grabbed a branch and took one step and then another.
CiCi didn’t think she was a coward, but his suggestion did make sense. “Okay.”
A slip, a slide and a few heart-stopping moments later, they made it to the riverbank. She was breathing hard but that was probably from sheer terror.
The counselors were lined up as if they were participating in a game of tug-of-war, but this time winning was a matter of life or death.
“I’m going to help them.” Greg started to walk away but CiCi stopped him.
“Do you think he’s strong enough to swim out there?” Not many people were as big as Jake Culpepper but pitted against an out-of-control river, that didn’t mean much.
“If anyone can do it, he can.”
CiCi wasn’t sure that was the answer she wanted, but it would have to do.
Jake’s first attempt missed. The guys pulled and slid and cussed until they finally retrieved him. CiCi’s knees were about to buckle, she felt light-headed and, even worse, she was afraid she was going to lose her lunch—and she wasn’t the one risking her life.
Thirty minutes—and a couple of terrifying misses—later, Jake and Angel were safely on the shore. Although they were both covered in scrapes and bruises, they were alive.
Alive! Thank God!
THE MINUTE Jake touched dry land he decided to never underestimate the power of water again. He was a strong guy, but still there had been several times he’d thought he was a goner. He was tempted to drop to his knees and kiss the ground.
Fifteen minutes later, the sheriff and a fire truck arrived in an impressive display of lights and sirens. They were a day late and a dollar short, but at least the emergency medical technicians could check out Angel. When it came to the physical well-being of someone that small and fragile Jake was out of his element.
Whap, whap, whap. That was the unmistakable sound of a helicopter.
“Why are they here?” CiCi pointed at the sky and yelled to be heard over the noise.
“I suspect we’re about to get a visit from a San Antonio TV crew,” the sheriff answered. “They were here for the bus accident and it went out over the scanner that Jake Culpepper was involved in a rescue, so…” The lawman didn’t need to finish his sentence.
Great! It hadn’t taken long for the news to spread. Jake was still trying to catch his breath when one of the choppers landed and an opportunistic reporter with his cameraman hopped out.
“Hey, we heard that you’re a hero!” the man yelled. Jake didn’t have time to respond before a camera was stuck in his face.
“What are you doing in the Hill Country?”
Jake thought a second before answering, trying to come up with the most innocuous explanation possible. “I’m a volunteer at the camp, and now I have things to do, like get into some dry clothes. I’m sure you understand. Come visit me when we’re having the Road Runners’ training camp. I’ll give you an interview then.” By that time, several other reporters had arrived, lured by the news that Jake Culpepper had been involved in a rescue.
He’d had plenty of experience dealing with the media so he was able to extricate himself with a small measure of grace. Or at least he thought he had.
“Look, I’m fine,” Jake assured the emergency medical technician who had insisted on checking him out.
“I’m sure you are.” That didn’t stop the man from taking his blood pressure—again. “So how do you think the Road Runners will do this year?”
Ah, that was it. Jake’s brain must be full of water, or mush, not to immediately figure out what was going on. If he didn’t watch out, he’d end up signing autographs.
Football in Texas was king, and the men who played it, from high school kids to college stars to Pro Bowlers, were the crown princes.
“I’m through here.” The technician stowed his blood pressure cuff. “Would you autograph this?” He tore a piece of paper out of a notebook and handed it to Jake. “It’s for my kid.”
He’d sure called that one right.
CICI’S FIRST JOB WAS to check on Angel. The teen had some scraped and abrasions, but other than that she was
fine—and that was all thanks to Jake. The man would never admit it, but he was a hero.
And speaking of the hero, he was surrounded by a crowd of men who, from the looks of things, all wanted an autograph. Oh, boy, fame had to be quite a pain in the butt.
Maybe this time Jake would appreciate being rescued himself. “Hey, guys, would you all like to come to the dining room for a cup of coffee?” she called.
“Sure!” A sheriff’s deputy was the first to answer, but there were nods all around.
THE NOISE LEVEL in the dining hall was only marginally lower than a rock concert. But what would you expect after that kind of adrenaline rush?
“Hey, Greg.” Despite the pandemonium, CiCi managed to get his attention. “These folks would like to get Jake’s autograph. Could you please keep the kids occupied?”
“Sure. Hey, you guys,” Greg yelled to his staff. “Drag out the boom box. We need to lighten up, so we’re going to have a dance.”
“Let’s go back to the kitchen,” CiCi suggested to the autograph seekers. “In about five minutes we won’t be able to hear ourselves think.”
Jake made his way through the kids like a modern-day Moses striding through the Red Sea. They’d almost made it to the kitchen door before the music started.
Bumpety bumpety bump! It was so loud CiCi could feel the bass thumping through her shoes. There were kids everywhere—rocking, grinding and generally turning themselves into contortionists. Rondelle was poppin’ with a couple of his buddies. A crowd of admirers had formed around Angel. She had bumps and bruises, but according to the medics she was going to be okay.
“That’s better,” Jake said as he closed the door to the kitchen. “At least we can talk.”
“Are they always that…enthusiastic?” the sheriff asked.
It appeared that even John Law wasn’t immune to football fever. Hopefully, this little autograph session would go a long way toward building a good rapport with the local constabulary—something they might need later if any of the campers crossed the line again.
“Most of the time,” CiCi admitted. “But they’re good kids.”
Chapter Nineteen
A couple of days after the storm Jake and the counselors were clearing debris from the natural swimming hole. Just looking at him was enough to send CiCi into cardiac arrest. He was stripped down to nothing more than a pair of cargo shorts, a straw cowboy hat and running shoes, and man oh man, that bod was impressive. Broad shoulders, massive biceps and that chest—well, it was…it was…tanned and buff and, good God!
Cease and desist! She needed more than a good body. Tank had one, but that didn’t stop him from being a worm.
“Jake!” Oops, that sounded snippy. When he glanced up, she softened her tone. “May I talk to you for a sec?”
“Sure.” Jake wiped the sweat off his face with his discarded T-shirt. “We’re almost finished.” He turned to his coworkers. “Can you do without me for little bit?”
“Sure,” answered the burliest of the three counselors. Texas Bob hadn’t hired any pencil-necked geeks.
“This humidity is hell.” Jake pulled his T-shirt over his head.
Why had he covered such a nice view?
“What do you think?” He indicated the work they’d done on the swimming hole.
CiCi had been so immersed in her prurient fantasies that she hadn’t noticed. It took a mental slap to get her back on track. “It’s fantastic. The kids will be thrilled.”
Blue Hole was a spring-fed swimming hole that was a favorite with the campers. And considering CiCi was a big fan of keeping hormonal teens well-fed and entertained, she was thrilled with the result.
“Thanks, guys,” she said, expressing her appreciation to the crew of workers.
“So, what can I do for you?” Jake dropped down on a tree stump, wiping his face again with the hem of his shirt. “Want one?” he asked, reaching into a cooler for a bottle of Gatorade. “No, thanks.”
“Okay,” he said, taking a big swallow.
How did he make drinking an energy drink look sexy?
“So what did you want to talk to me about?” What did she want to talk to him about? Oh, yeah. “I just wanted to pick your brain about how to keep the kids busy with something they enjoy so they don’t have time to think up any more shenanigans. I don’t think I can take any more of this angst.”
There was so much riding on her success with Camp Touchdown—her pride, her self-esteem and last but certainly not least, Daddy’s approval.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Jake began, but before he could continue they were interrupted.
“Coach, Miz Hurst!” Javier, Rondelle’s buddy, came running up out of breath. “There’s somthin’ bad goin’ down at the main lodge. You’d better come quick!”
Jake frowned but didn’t say a word before he sprinted across the lawn. CiCi was right behind him.
What the heck was going on? Rondelle was sitting on a stringy-haired man in a cheap suit while Schwartz and a couple of other kids stood guard, armed with sticks.
Heaven help her!
“You.” CiCi pointed at the intruder. “Get up and tell me what you’re doing here. I won’t tolerate violence. It’s not good for the kids.”
She ignored the “are you kidding?” look Jake gave her. He was probably thinking juvie records, car theft, shoplifting and now assault.
“Get. Up!” she repeated when the man stayed down even after Rondelle released him.
The refugee from Sleazy ’R’ Us was writhing on the ground with his hands plastered on his head. “Keep…them…away…from me.”
“Coach. Coach!” Rondelle was trying to get Jake’s attention. “He was crawling around in the bushes with a big camera. It looked as if he was trying to get close enough to take a picture of you. I think he’s one of those papa sans.”
“A papa san?”
“I think he means a paparazzi,” CiCi guessed.
“A paparazzi?” Jake squatted to get eyeball-to-eyeball with the intruder. “Hey, man, what’s this all about?”
The man moaned.
What a dweeb, CiCi thought. “You’re a trespasser and I’m calling the cops.” She yanked the cell phone out of her pocket.
“Don’t do that.” The photographer got on his knees and waved a hand in Jake’s direction. “He’s a hot commodity, big-time hot. Getting an interview would make my career.”
“Not your call, buddy.” This guy had tabloid reporter written all over him. Knowing how newsworthy Jake was, she should’ve seen this coming.
“I’m goin’, I’m goin’.” He jumped up and ran to the front gate. The next thing they heard was an engine firing up.
“I wonder how long he’s been slinking around here.” CiCi also wondered whether the trespasser had seen Jake kissing her the night of Angel’s rescue. She’d been distraught and he’d been comforting.
Chapter Twenty
Two days later, while Jake was still pondering his paparazzi encounter, more trouble came a’calling in the form of Cousin Dwayne. That man was a true idiot. Not only was he driving Jake’s Porsche—which had made it through auto rehab—he was accompanied by none other than Brenda Olson. How had he gotten that car key?
No doubt about it, Dwayne was roadkill.
Brenda spotted him almost immediately. She jumped out of the sports car and launched herself at him—arms around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist. Unfortunately, Jake’s brain didn’t engage fast enough to block her.
Oblivious to their growing audience, Brenda rained kisses all over his face. Jake was trying to disentangle himself when he spied CiCi watching them. If looks could kill he’d be six feet under.
“Jake, Jake,” Brenda whined. “We need to talk. Really, honey, we do.”
Prying her off was like pulling bubble gum from a hot side walk, but Jake was determined. “Please get your hands and your body off me.”
“Aw, Jake. We could—”
“No, we couldn’t. Let go. I mean it!
”
Brenda demonstrated a pout worthy of Paris Hilton but dropped to the ground. “I just wanted to congratulate you on being so famous.”
“Famous? What are you talking about?”
She looked at him as though he’d just lost his mind. “You’ve had millions of hits on your YouTube video. Everyone in Houston thinks you’re a hero. In fact, I heard a rumor that People magazine wants to do a spread on you, or was that the National Enquirer?” She propped her chin up with a manicured nail to signal how hard she was thinking.
“A video of what?”
“You silly man.” Brenda poked that same finger at his chest. “It’s a film of you rescuing that girl.” She pointed out Angel in the crowd of teens. “It’s quite the hit.”
Jake glanced at Brenda and then Angel. Obviously someone had filmed that near disaster and then put it on the Internet. It wouldn’t have been his first choice, but with his con tract coming up for renewal, some good publicity might be useful—but maybe not.
CICI HAD BEEN on the porch of the lodge contemplating the past three weeks when the sleek black Porsche rocketed up the gravel drive and crunched to a stop. She took one look at the blonde’s big hair, Miss America body and toothpaste-white smile, and her heart sank like the Titanic. She couldn’t compete with that.
Wait a minute! Her insecurities were showing, and dammit, she wasn’t going to let them rule her life.
CiCi was too chicken to get close enough to hear what was happening so she was trying to read Jake’s expressions. At first, he looked as though steam was about to pour out of his ears. And when the bimbo wrapped around herself around him like Saran Wrap, he seemed embarrassed. But the more they talked, the more baffled he appeared. So what was going on?