Counting On It (Hearts for Ransom Book 1)

by Evans, Georgia

  “Nope.” She was concerned about his wife, though. “How’s Sara?”

  Aaron’s gray eyes clouded over. His wife had just had a hysterectomy after being diagnosed with ovarian cancer. She was in her mid-fifties, and otherwise a very healthy woman, so the doctors were optimistic about a full recovery. It was all the chemotherapy and radiation Aaron and Sara were dreading. They had a tough road ahead of them.

  “You know my wife, Em.” Aaron’s smile was strained. “She’s a fighter.”

  Aaron and Sara had been like a second set of parents to Emily since her mom and dad had been their resident summer campsite hosts for nearly twenty years. It saddened her to think of their oncoming struggles.

  “Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” was all she could think to offer.

  Aaron suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Actually, there is something I’ve been meaning to tell you about. Just remember I thought your folks would be here when I agreed to all of this.”

  Trepidation curled in the pit of her stomach. “Agreed to all of what?”

  “Well, you know that June is our slowest month?” July and August were much busier in the campground. “I contracted with a local church for a big-brother type program to be held out here. It only lasts two weeks, but it starts on Sunday.”

  It was Thursday. Emily tried not to panic. “How many people are we talking about, Aaron?”

  “At last count, they had a dozen boys signed up. They were still looking for men to serve as mentors, though, so the boys may not all get to come.”

  Despite the beating her nerves were enduring at the moment, Emily couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness for any boy who wanted to be in a program like that and had to be turned away. For many of them it would probably be one more disappointment in a life already filled with them.

  “What do you need me to do?” She wasn’t going to complain. It wouldn’t do her any good, and her friend didn’t need the added stress of thinking she might wig out on him.

  “We’ll want to reserve at least twelve campsites for them.” His brows furrowed as he thought. “Do you know off the top of your head when the campers over in the seventies sites will be leaving?”

  She didn’t even need to check. “Saturday.” Logan Taylor would once again become a distant—unpleasant—memory.

  Aaron nodded. “Good.” His eyes studied the distance between the host site and the area he was referring to. “Let’s reserve sites seventy through eighty-three. That’ll give them a couple of extra sites just in case they need them. It’ll put the group in nice proximity to you, too.” Aaron settled his baseball cap on his head, nearly obscuring his dark brown hair. It was a “Sloopy’s Slammers” hat. Maybe she should have heard of the unfortunately named team.

  “Okay. Anything else?” So far, it sounded like nothing more than a busy campground.

  “You’ll have to be on your toes with the rules. I’m afraid a lot of these kids aren’t going to be the most well-behaved young men in the world, and their sponsors may not be able to keep up with all their hijinks.”

  “So, reserve sites seventy through eighty-three, and police the campground a little more rigidly. Is that all?” She couldn’t imagine what else he would want her to do. Emily couldn’t quite see herself sitting around a campfire, roasting marshmallows and singing “Kum-ba-yah” with twenty-four males of various ages.

  “I told the pastor you’d help set up some of their group activities. They’re planning on some tournaments—volleyball, horseshoes, and kickball, I think. They’ll probably have a wiener roast or cookout of some sort, too.” He gave her a weak smile. “You know where they should set up for activities like that, and I don’t want them just running rampant through the grounds bothering our other guests.”

  Wonderful. It sounded like she’d be interacting with them more than she’d like after all. “At least I won’t have trouble with the men. I’m sure they have to pass some sort of screening to participate, don’t they?”

  Aaron nodded. “Rigorous. That was one thing Pastor Rhinehart assured me of. We might have some troubled youth out here, but the men will be of excellent character. They’re going to be serving as role models.”

  She started to ask if he would be able to take a more active role in the workings of the campground since it was just her alone instead of both of her parents, but then she remembered Sara. Aaron wouldn’t have time to spend here. She’d have to handle it herself. She looked at the man who she’d always thought of as a second father and made a decision.

  “I’ll take care of everything, and it’s going to be just fine. You take care of Sara and yourself.” She was proud of herself for not letting her anxiety show.

  He reached out and gently tugged her ponytail. “I know you will, Em.” He gave her a sad smile. “I’d better get the rest of my run in and get back home. Sara’s not supposed to be up and about on her own yet today, and you know how she is. I’m liable to get home and find her cleaning out the refrigerator.”

  “Take care,” Emily called as he started jogging away.

  “Can I talk to you?” The voice startled her so much she nearly wet herself. She turned to see that Logan Taylor had walked up behind her.

  “What are you trying to do? Give me a heart attack?” she demanded, hands on her hips.

  He held up his hands in surrender. “Look, Emily, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He slowly lowered his hands. Much to her horror, Emily found herself looking him over. The past few years hadn’t been bad to the bane of her existence. He wasn’t stocky like his friend that morning was, but he was very…muscular. His brown hair was finger-combing tousled, and his eyes looked like melted chocolate as they seemed to search hers.

  “Can we just bury the hatchet?” he asked.

  She couldn’t help herself. “In which part of your body?”

  Logan sighed. “I’m sorry. Okay? Let’s forget about the kids we used to be, and call a truce. I’m only going to be here until Saturday.”

  And she was counting down the hours. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about both him and the group that would be there at the same time. Then, considering his words more carefully, her suspicions rose.

  “So, you want to make nice all of a sudden?” Emily shook her head. “I’m not buying it, Logan.”

  “Look. I have no idea why, but I’m trying to do you a favor here.” He didn’t sound quite so friendly anymore.

  “You? Do me a favor? … Like when you welded my locker door shut? Or one of my all-time favorites—cut a good three inches off my hair?” Maybe he could forget about when they were kids because she hadn’t done any of those kinds of things to him. In fact, she had tried very industriously to avoid him.

  Logan held his hand up in a stop gesture. “Fine. I just wanted you to know that Mason Wright thinks you and I have a thing going.”

  “Who thinks we have a what?” There was no way she had heard that right.

  “Mason—the guy at your camper this morning?” Logan smiled at her, or at least she thought he did. It had never happened before. “He’s bad news for someone like you.”

  “Someone like me?” What was he talking about?

  “Yeah. Someone ‘good’ like you.” Now he was smirking. That was an expression she was much more familiar with. “So I told him you and I are together. To protect you from his advances. I’m counting on it …”

  “Why, you egotistical moron, would I ever need you to protect me? I’ve managed to protect myself for sixteen years now—from you! In fact, it’s none of your business if Jason—”

  “Mason.” Was he laughing at her?

  “Whatever his name is! It’s none of your business if he’s interested in me. And it’s certainly none of your business whether or not it’s mutual.” She had never wanted to slap the smirk off of his face as much as she did at that moment, and there had been countless other times when she’d wanted to.

  “He’s not the kind of guy you want to hook up with, Em. He’ll break yo
ur heart.” Logan shrugged. “That’s all I’m saying.”

  Frustrated beyond words, Emily brushed past him and headed toward her campsite. Why wouldn’t that man leave her alone? He never had in school, and now, since he found out she was there, he’d harassed her not once, but twice already!

  Logan watched her stomp away. He had done it again—made Emily Scott angry. Of course, he had been doing that, on purpose and inadvertently, sometimes just by breathing, for as long as they had known each other. The few times—the very few times he had tried to make amends, she shot him down faster than a lightning bolt. For some reason, that had always renewed his desire to rankle her more. Well, if she wanted to fool around with Wright, let her. It wasn’t his problem.

  Chapter 4

  “Hey, Taylor, your cell’s ringing!” Shortstop Colton Rennard called out to Logan from the truck.

  Logan stopped cranking the boat onto the trailer and turned to him. “Just take a message for me, would you?” They had been fishing since flippin’ five o’clock that morning, thanks to Jesse’s blasted enthusiasm, and he just wanted to get the boat on the trailer and haul it back to camp.

  He could hear Colton’s Georgia accent as he spoke on the phone and looked up to see his dark blonde head bobbing up and down. Didn’t they teach folks how to use the phone in Mabel, Georgia? If not, the man had lived in Indiana for nearly five years—long enough to know the caller couldn’t see him nodding.

  “Man, you hafta take this. It’s Madison.” Outstanding. Al Madison was the Slammers’ coach. He knew the guys were camping and had given them his blessing, telling Logan he would have joined them himself if he could have gotten away from work. They only had a little longer than two weeks before practice officially began and the season got underway. Not to mention, it had been unbelievably difficult for all nine of the men to be off work at the same time to come. What could Al want?

  “Can you get this?” he asked Bogard Daniels, the giant, black-haired first baseman. He and his crew already had their boat on its trailer and out of the water.

  “I’ll help him,” the league’s record-holding base stealer, second baseman Brody Gaines volunteered. With his blonde hair and blue eyes, he was a female fan favorite.

  Leaving Bo and Brody to get the boat onto the trailer, Logan strode to the truck and took the phone Colton was holding out.

  “This better be good,” he greeted Al.

  “Taylor, we have a situation here.” Madison’s voice was uncharacteristically brisk. The owner and manager of Madison’s Meat Market was one of the kindest men Logan knew—at least off of the diamond. It must be important or he wouldn’t have called.

  “What’s that?”

  “Sam Haynes.” He owned Sloopy’s Bar and Grill and was the team’s sole sponsor. Logan was liking this call less and less.

  “Okay?” Was he going to have to pry it out of Al’s mouth?

  “He’s worried about the team’s publicity.”

  “What publicity?” Logan was definitely confused about that one. The most controversial thing any of them had done was when Mason had unknowingly—he claimed—hooked up with the mayor’s married niece, but he was pretty sure that was water under the bridge.

  “Exactly,” the coach responded. “According to Haynes, nobody knows we’re out there playing, and the only reason he sponsors us is to drum up business for the bar and grill. The way he put it was that we’re not serving our purpose.”

  Logan suddenly had a vision of his likeness plastered on a “Sloopy’s Bar and Grill” billboard. It wasn’t pretty. “What exactly is he talking about?”

  “He wants you guys to get involved in some charity work or something. Taylor, he’s already signed the whole lot of you for a two-week stint.” Al sounded as frustrated as Logan felt.

  “Does he know how hard we’ve worked to get these few weeks off? I shut down my construction business, for cryin’ out loud. And you know the guys who don’t work for me had to bust their chops to get off. We’ve been looking forward to getting away from everything.”

  Al was quiet for a minute before speaking softly. “Logan, if you guys don’t do this, he’s pulling the plug. He won’t sponsor the team anymore.”

  Logan’s first reaction was to say “let him,” but then he realized they would never be able to drum up another sponsor this close to the season. The team wouldn’t exist.

  “What do we have to do?” He could see it now. All nine of them walking along highways and interstates, picking up trash, cameras flashing. That would make splashy headlines. “Sloopy’s Slammers aren’t Slobs!” He snorted.

  “You guys were planning on leaving Boone’s on Saturday and heading down to Lake of the Ozarks for the next couple of weeks, weren’t you?”

  Logan sighed. “Yes. I take it our plans are changing.” His jaw clenched as he thought about Sam Haynes. “Just what do we have to do, Al?”

  “Stay right where you are for the next two weeks. There’ll be a busload of boys arriving on Sunday. Each one of you has been assigned to a kid, and you’re going to be their role models while you’re there.”

  Kids? He didn’t know anything about kids. And role models? None of them were saints, but he shuddered to think of what Mason or Jacob Landon, their womanizing right fielder, would teach boys. He snorted again. “Coach, I think Haynes may be suffering from the onset of dementia or something.”

  “Hey, I’m the choir, preacher,” his coach told him, “but it’s a done deal. A reporter and photographer from the Ransom Razor will be there following your every move.”

  Logan was picturing his steel-toe work boot making direct contact with Sam Haynes’ butt. That would make a good picture. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I just need you to tell the rest of the guys. Then sit tight.” Relief was evident in Al’s voice.

  Logan had a brainstorm. “Coach, we can’t stay. Some of us only brought enough food to last us a few days, and we’ll run out of clean clothes. We were stopping at home on our way to the Ozarks.” Logan grinned. “He’ll just have to find another way for us to get some good publicity.” Maybe the billboard wouldn’t be that bad. Brody could pose for it. That’d at least drum up some female business for Sloopy’s.

  A loud sigh emanated from the telephone. “I tried that, too, Taylor. He’s already made arrangements for enough food for you guys and your…your little brothers…to be sent. And you’ll have to wash your clothes. There’s some kind of building there that houses some washers and dryers for campers to use. It’s all been arranged through a church and with the camp’s owner.” He paused. “I’m sorry, Taylor, but like I said, it’s a done deal.”

  Logan bit back the colorful language he wanted to spout. It wasn’t Al’s fault, and there was nothing he could do about it. “Okay, Al, but I still think Haynes is a few French fries short of a Happy Meal.”

  “Just have anybody who refuses to cooperate, call me. I’ll back you up.”

  Just flippin’ outstanding. Logan had to be the one to tell eight men who had closed up shop or hired extra help that they were not only giving up their trip, they were playing big brothers to kids! “I’ll take care of it.” When all was said and done, they were a group of good guys who loved to play ball. They’d do what they had to.

  “Knew I could count on you. Remember, you guys are doing this for publicity, so be on your best behavior. We don’t want anything negative to come out of this and bite us on the butt.”

  Logan wouldn’t mind if some rampaging animal bit Haynes on the butt. “I’ll talk to you later, Coach.”

  He disconnected the call and put the phone in his jeans’ pocket. How should he do this? One at a time? A few at a time? No. He’d wait until they were gathered for their War Zone game that evening and just announce it. It would be like pulling a bandage off. Do it fast and get the pain over with.

  Chapter 5

  Emily had just taken her last bite of the tuna salad sandwich she’d made for her lunch when someone beat on her door. I
f it was Logan or that other buffoon, she was going to throw something at him. Something hard. Where did her mom keep the cast iron skillet?

  She cautiously swung the door open and was nearly knocked off of her feet by the small, blonde tornado that launched herself onto Emily.

  “Miss me?” Abigail Michaels, Emily’s best friend since kindergarten, asked after she finally let go of Em and stepped past her into the motor home.

  “What are you doing here?” Emily was always happy to see Abby.

  “Aaron called and told me you needed some backup for the next couple of weeks. I had some vacation time coming, so I took it and here I am!” With her short blonde curls, bright blue eyes, and petite 5’1” frame, Abby had always been called “cute.”

  “I can’t believe it.” Emily took a step back and did the silly happy dance the two of them used to do in school. “I could kiss Aaron.” She wouldn’t be the lone woman amidst a sea of male testosterone. She’d have an ally.

  “So, how’s it going so far?” a slightly more sedate Abby asked as she plopped onto the sofa.

  The night before and today crashed into Emily. “You’ll never guess who’s here.”

  “Who? Somebody famous?” Abby leaned forward, eager to find out.

  “Yeah,” Emily answered dryly. “Somebody famous for being a pain in my posterior.”

  Comprehension slowly dawned on Abby’s face and her button nose wrinkled with distaste. “He isn’t. Tell me Logan Taylor isn’t camping here.”

  Emily sank down beside her friend. “Not only is he here, he immediately started pestering me as soon as he found out I’m the campground host.” A shiver ran up her spine. “He even told one of his friends that he and I are together so the other guy wouldn’t take advantage of poor little old me.” Her green eyes flashed with anger.

  “He what?” Abby’s brows shot up.

  “Exactly my reaction.” Emily shook her head. “If I need protection from anybody here, it’s him.”