Taming Chloe Summers (Grover Beach Team #7)

by Anna Katmore

  “I know you think so, but that wasn’t my question. You’re enjoying it, aren’t you?”

  Rolling her eyes, she readjusts her dirty ponytail and murmurs, “Maybe…a little bit.” Then she casts me a smirk. “But paintball was awful, no matter how you put it.”

  Seeing where that’s coming from, I don’t contradict her…out loud. I, for one, found parts of it very entertaining.

  “Anyway, what do you think?” she adds a minute later. “Which team won the game?”

  “Honestly, I don’t think anyone made it back unmarked.” Not from what we heard Grey and his brother saying before. And I shot them.

  A shrug rolls off her shoulder, her mouth twitching into a tiny, amicable smile. “We did.”

  My world stops turning for an infinitesimal moment. She’s right. I didn’t shoot the cat. Instead, I spent half the day hiking through the woods with her, letting her ensnare me. Shit, I can’t believe I simply tossed away rock-hard principles I’ve been holding on to for years. And in the blink of an eye! Only because she lay on top of me for a moment and may have let me kiss her.

  On the other hand, the hike wasn’t so bad. Chloe can be fun…in her own helpless way. She’s tough and vulnerable at the same time, which makes her almost sweet. And at least she’s trying with the kids.

  Jesus! I’m pathetic. I’m trying to see something loveable where there’s only selfishness. Always has been. Why would I be so stupid and believe she’s changing now, of all times? Because she didn’t spit in my face when I touched her cheek? Yeah, very smart, Andrews.

  We round the corner to the camp, the carefree chatter of the youngsters drifting to us from afar. Some of them are lying in the grass, others hang out by the picnic tables, munching on sandwiches the kitchen staff has prepared. Most of them are still wearing their paintball gear, and all of them are splattered with paint. They cheer for us when they see us coming, but I don’t feel cheerful at all.

  Chloe is heading toward the table with Julie and the girls. She doesn’t notice when I stop in my tracks. I put on my mask, lift the gun, take aim at her, and shout, “Summers!”

  Whirling around, her smile drops fast.

  “You don’t take prisoners in paintball,” I drawl and shoot her straight in the chest.

  She staggers a tiny step backward, then freezes on the spot, looking down at herself to where her black chest protector is now splashed with bright-green paint. When her gaze finds mine again, her face is pale with shock. She swallows, her eyes narrowing in a pitiful, puzzled way. The moment between us seems frozen forever.

  “Why did you do that?” she whispers. I only hear it because all the cheery conversations in the camp behind her have stopped. Countless eyes are set on me.

  All of a sudden, Addison Cooper jumps on the table, her paintball gun in her hands, and yells, “He shot our alpha cat! Death to the Wolf!” A wild roar breaks out as the entire horde of girls finds their weapons. Next thing I know, a million paintballs zoom through the air, exploding everywhere on my body. And not only are they coming from the girls but from the boys, too.

  Going down in the fire, I cover my head with my arms, laughing until I can take no more. “Surrender!” I shout, lying on the ground, hands lifted. “Please! I surrender!”

  The crossfire ceases, two or three stray balls hitting me on the legs and shoulder. Then it’s quiet. I don’t know what’s going on, because my mask is also splashed with paint. Hesitantly, I pull it off, looking up into the sunlit sky. A shadow falls over me. I can make out Chloe’s silhouette, but only when she leans down to me do I also notice her sneer.

  From next to me, she picks up my gun and presses the mouth of it to my chest. “You should never mess with a Tiger,” she drawls, her face way too friendly. Then she pulls the trigger.

  Ouch.

  *

  I slide into my chair at the counselors’ table. My fellow counselors are already tucking in after an exhausting day. Chloe looks up from her meal and cracks a grin. “What took you so long, Four? Couldn’t get the color out of your hair?”

  Perhaps it’s her smiling eyes or the cheerful tone that affects me, but for once, her calling me Four doesn’t bother me a bit. Or maybe I’m just starting to like the name. As for the color, yes, I had to wash my hair like five times to get all the funky streaks out. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

  Grey claps me on the shoulder and laughs. “Sorry, dude, but we all did.”

  From a bowl in the middle of the table, I scoop a load of chicken nuggets onto my plate. “I can see why the girls shot me. But you, too? That ain’t funny, man.” With a chuckle, I spear one nugget, dip it in barbecue sauce then bite off half of it.

  “Revenge,” he tells me around a mouthful of fries. “I know that you were the one who sneaked up on me and Collin by the creek. Also, you aren’t supposed to shoot girls from the back. Not nice.”

  I lift my eyes to Chloe’s, locking burning gazes with her, and smirk. “I made her turn around first.”

  Chloe’s answer is a set of tight dimples in her cheeks that reveal her suppressed smile. But she looks down quickly and continues eating her dinner.

  “How’s your leg doing, anyway?” I ask her two nuggets later.

  Pulling up her nose, she doesn’t look so happy. “The cut is deeper than I thought. It kept bleeding when I showered.”

  “You should put a Band-Aid on it.”

  “Why? You think your bandana isn’t good enough anymore?” she jokes.

  From what I saw when I came in, she’s wearing a black skirt tonight. With her legs under the table, there’s no way to tell, but now I’m wondering if she still has my bandana tied around her thigh.

  “There’s some stuff in the sickroom,” I tell her and start to add that she really needs to put something on that wound, but someone from her team walks up to our table right then. Kristina Ahrens. The girl fumbles nervously with her auburn locks as she stops, her gaze skating from one of us to the other.

  “Hey,” Chloe calls out. Her cheery voice welcoming the girl hits me right in the gut.

  “Hi,” the girl replies, then she turns to me and says, “Hello, Justin.”

  “Hi, Kristina.” Since she’s apparently here to talk to me, I use a napkin on my lips and prompt her, “What’s up?”

  She clears her throat. “I noticed how well you play basketball. I’d really like to play, too, but I’m afraid I’m not good enough. So I was wondering if…maybe…you could teach me to play?”

  Chloe coughs, and a load of chewed chicken hits me in the chest. What. The. Hell? I cut her a flabbergasted look. “Gross.”

  “Sorry,” she croaks, quickly holding her hand in front of her mouth and coughing some more.

  After wiping the mash off my shirt, I turn back to Kristina. “Um, sure. We can practice a little tomorrow afternoon. How does that sound?”

  “Great!” Her voice is far too squeaky, and her face lights up with joy. “I’ll see you then.”

  When she scuttles off to her friends, I nail Chloe with an intense stare. “Is everything all right with you?”

  Chloe lowers her hand and suddenly cracks up with laughter. “Yep. Totally fine.” She can barely sit straight from shaking so hard. “It’s just— Ah, never mind.” Her eyes start to water with tears from her fit. “You enjoy your practice tomorrow.”

  It takes her all of two minutes to calm herself down. But just as I’m about to ask her what on earth is riding her tonight, she bursts out in another round of convulsive laughter. “I’m so sorry,” she chokes out through hiccups. “I just can’t—” Then she gets up, grabs the piece of cake from her tray, puts the rest on the dirty-plate rack, and leaves the hall, her laugher echoing after her.

  When I look at Julie and Greyson for answers, they only lift their shoulders, obviously as clueless as me.

  Later that evening, while sitting on the porch swing in front of our cabin, Chloe’s strange behavior is still on my mind. And not only her fit during dinner, but all of toda
y. My feet planted on the wooden floor, I gently swing back and forth. There are about a thousand knotholes in the roof above me. With my head dipped against the backrest of the swing, I count them.

  Because counting is better than thinking.

  But it’s not very effective, and my thoughts return to the slope by the creek much too fast. What if I had pulled her head down to me all the way and kissed her? Would she have tasted like she did before? Would she have breathed my name and dug her fingers into my chest?

  Would she have later denied everything? Again?

  I don’t want to go there…not even in my mind. But it’s hard not to think about something that was part of the best thing that ever happened to me. Even if she ruined everything later with a stupid little lie.

  For God’s sake, can’t I stop thinking about that girl? After all this time?

  “Hey, pal, you’ve been pretty quiet all evening,” Grey says as he comes out of the cabin, leaning against a pole of the porch with folded arms. “Is everything all right?”

  After a couple of seconds, I close my eyes, sigh, and shake my head. Nothing’s all right. Coming here even after I heard that Chloe Summers would be at camp, too, was probably the dumbest thing I could have done.

  Chapter 11

  Chloe

  “Did you see that?” I squeal, standing on my bed and tearing at my hair. “Did you see how they all shot him?”

  “Girls united!” Julie throws her fist in the air and makes a warrior face that I wouldn’t have believed she could pull off. Then it disappears, giving way to a wide smile. “I don’t see why you’re so surprised, though. The girls admire you. Of course they would avenge you.”

  Admire me? Releasing my hair, I drop on my butt and stare at her in disbelief. “They do?”

  “Sure they do. You should’ve seen them when they were plotting your rescue from the guys the other day.” She strolls over and opens the window. “They respect you, but they also want to be close to and sort of be like you.” When she turns around, she folds her arms under her chest and tilts her head, her lips compressed, casting me a look down her nose. “Not the grumpy side of you, ya know. But the cool side.”

  Was that the side Justin saw in me today, too? Earlier, by the slope? Like an avalanche, the memory of him tenderly cupping my cheeks and pulling me closer rolls over me, forcing me to close my eyes for a second longer than a blink. As we had both lain there on the ground, I could have sworn he was going to kiss me. Again…after all this time. The screwiest thing about it is that I probably wouldn’t even have objected. Not at that moment anyway.

  But he pulled back. Perhaps for the best. Whatever he saw in me all those years ago, I’ve thoroughly destroyed. All he probably knows and remembers is the bitch who got him in trouble at the end of what could have been a perfect summer. Would I change some of the things that happened between us, if I could? Drawing in a deep breath, I deliberate that with my pillow pressed to my stomach. Chances are I would. At least some things. Only, I have no idea whether those things are from the time before us or after us.

  Time to get out of that emotional swirl of memories and anchor myself in the present again. Discovering that the kids kind of look up to me helps. With a glance at Julie, who just changed from her dress into shorts and a yellow tank, I ask, “Do you think I’m cool?”

  She shifts her mouth to one side then flashes a grin. “Nah. You spit chicken on Justin. You’re awkward.”

  Squeaking with outraged giggles, I toss my pillow at her. “And you snore!”

  She ducks my attack and runs for her bed. I have barely enough time to jump up and get my missile back before she throws her own. We smack each other wherever we can land a hit, squealing like the thirteen-year-olds next door. It’s ridiculous! But it’s also the most fun I’ve had all day. Bagging a hit on my butt from her spot-on throw, I grab my pillow from another corner, twist on my bare feet, and hurl it at her. Julie ducks, and the pillow crashes into the door. A split second later, a knock on the wood renders us motionless.

  I narrow my eyes at Julie, but she only shrugs and shakes her head, clueless. The blood still pumping hard in my temples from fooling around, I hurry to the door and yank it open. My chin drops at the sight of Justin on our doorstep, his black hoodie loosely zipped up halfway over some band T-shirt. He slides his hands in his pockets, his butterscotch eyes gleaming between random strands of his dirty-blond hair.

  “Wow. You’re here,” I blurt out in surprise. After the Tiger pack shot him, and then of course my show at dinner, he’s certainly the last person I expected to see tonight.

  Momentarily shocked by my yapping, he quickly recovers and presses his lips together in a tight smirk. “Yeah. Deal with it.”

  “Hi, Justin,” a squeaky voice drifts from behind me. The next thing I know, a curious Owl shoves me aside, sticks her head out the door, and scans the porch.

  “I’m alone,” Justin tells her with a chuckle, when we both realize who she’s looking for.

  “Oh.” Julie straightens, grabbing the doorframe and leaning her cheek against her hands. “I guess you haven’t come for midnight snacks then?”

  He shakes his head. “Mm-mm. Not tonight.”

  “Then why are you here?” I demand.

  “To take you to the sickroom and take care of that cut on your leg.” His gaze travels down and zeroes in on my exposed belly button for a moment, then lowers to my short black skirt, under which his bandana is still tied around my thigh. When the bleeding hadn’t stopped after the shower, it seemed like the only choice I had.

  I grab the seam of my snugly fitting top and smooth it down, covering my stomach. “Why?”

  A sheepish expression pulls his brows together. “Because for some reason, I feel responsible for it.”

  And he totally is. That he came over and wants to make up for it now is kind of sweet of him, though.

  He casually holds out his elbow to me. “Can we go?”

  I’m not at all sure if I should take his arm or shove him against the shoulder for even suggesting it. Indecisive, I fish for an excuse. “I need my shoes and a sweater.”

  “It’s just around the corner, tiger.” Arm unmoving, he beckons me with a slow blink and a tilt of his head. With some reluctance, I hang on to his elbow. Justin smells amazing, that’s the first thing I notice. Exactly like he did our first night here, at the beginning of the week. Feeling compelled to follow him down the stairs of our porch, I throw a confused look back at Julie, who remains by the open door. Her stupid grin is sandwiched by two thumbs up. Crazy Owl.

  When my roomie finally closes the door behind us, the beam of the light inside the cabin is shut away, and we’re enclosed in cool night shadows and the sound of crickets singing in the dark. It’s the second time we’re alone today, and all I can think of is how nice his biceps feel under my fingers as we stroll toward the office building. Jeez, I’ve been locked up in this camp with Justin entirely too long already…

  We round the building toward the sickroom at the back. Justin reaches to the top of the doorframe, which protrudes just a little from the wall. Somebody obviously left the key up there.

  “Wow. Didn’t know there was a secret spot for the key,” I whisper—just because whispering seems like the right thing to do when out alone with him at this time of night.

  “I believe I said that at our first meeting.” His grimace is meant to mock me. “But I know about your habit of not listening. You made that point clear yesterday.”

  I stick my tongue out at him and push through the door as soon as he unlocks it. He comes in after me and flicks on the light. When the door falls noisily shut, the time for whispering is obviously over. I swirl around to him. “So where do they keep the Band-Aids?”

  “Make yourself comfortable.” Justin nods at the bed aligned against the wall. “I’ll get the stuff.”

  “The stuff? What in God’s name are you up to?”

  “Your wound needs cleaning.”

  “Justin…�
�� I puff out an exasperated breath. “I played soccer with a rough gang of guys in high school. I’ve gotten hurt a lot worse than this in the past.”

  “Is that so?” he drawls, amusement riding his voice. “Didn’t know you were such a tough kitten.”

  I watch him head to a cupboard on the opposite wall and search through a wide drawer with his back to me. Placing some random items on the counter, he demands with a new and perplexing cheerfulness, “Any chance you’re having an allergic reaction related to your cut?”

  “No.” I sit down on the bed, dangling my legs and folding my hands in my lap. “Why?”

  The wicked grin on his face as he pivots toward me shoots a wave of goosebumps down my back. The bright light breaks in the glass of a slim syringe in his right hand. In the other, he’s holding a small bottle of clear liquid. “Because they have antihistamine here, and I’ve waited my whole life to give somebody a shot.”

  “Are you crazy? I’m not your guinea pig, Doctor Jekyll,” I protest, hooking my heels together and swinging my feet back underneath the bed. “Just a Band-Aid will do, thanks.”

  He chuckles as he puts the stuff away. Sometimes I really have trouble figuring out whether he’s serious or just taunting me. I do hope that was a joke.

  A bump of his hip shuts the drawer. Next he grabs the items he’s picked out and crosses the room. He plants himself on Julie’s favorite doc-mobile, the momentum rolling him all the way forward to right in front of me.

  Startled, I suck in a quick breath and lean backward a few inches.

  Diligently, Justin lines up the few things he got out next to me on the cot then reaches for my injured leg. I swallow when his warm hands gently cup my calf, and he places my bare foot on his thigh.

  Like he rules this place, as well as my body, he moves the hem of my skirt up a little to expose more of my naked leg. His gaze holds mine captive with a burning that awakens the goosebumps of before back to life.

  I blame it on the shock of his boldness that I don’t move or yell in objection.