by Evie Claire
Alice went back to her chart, blowing her bangs out of her face to read her notes. After a second scan, she shook her head, frowning. Based on Alice’s currently frazzled state of affairs, Lorie decided not to push.
“Curfew detail is fine.” She smiled to hide her mild disappointment. “Why did you let your assistant go?”
“Finances, honey,” Alice huffed, taking in the sad state of her office. “The upgrades to the medical tent cost more than we had budgeted.”
“Are you doing any sort of fundraisers? I’d be happy to help.”
“We’re talking with the Children’s Hospital board to see if they can offer some additional funding.”
Lorie nodded, looking around the office, too. Her eyes landed on a basket of flowers near Tug.
“What are these?” She bent to pick one up and pulled out a trailing garland of bright felt blossoms.
“Aren’t those fun?” Alice took another string of flowers, rubbing the fuzzy fabric petal of a soft purple peony bloom between her thumb and index finger. “We have a new volunteer working in arts and crafts. She helps the kids make these.”
“Forget a fundraiser. You could sell these on Etsy and make a mint!” Lorie exclaimed.
“Really? Who would buy these? They’re a kids’ handicraft.”
“I would!” Lorie fished in her purse and pulled out two twenty-dollar bills. “Consider this your first donation toward the medical tent. I’ll explore setting up an Etsy shop, too. With your permission, of course.”
“Let me think about it,” Alice said, handing over the string of purple and pink felt peonies in her hand. Lorie twisted them into a crown of sorts, put it on her head, and snapped a pic. She pulled up her Instagram account and posted the pic with a simple caption—These flowers are handmade by the kids of @CampSunshine. How much would you pay for a custom-made flower crown of your own? She then added a survey button—$25 $50 $75—and posted it.
Alice turned back to the basket, riffling through the rainbow-colored blooms. “It looks so cute on you!” Alice admired Lorie’s crown as she ushered her to the door.
Lorie caught a glimpse at the ancient wall clock beside the door.
“Is that really the time? I’ve got twenty minutes before my first class.”
“The counselor cabin is on the far side of the lake. Turn right when the road dead-ends. Wind around the lake and you’ll see it up on your left.”
“Thanks! I’ve never stayed there before.” Lorie’s keys jangled against her fingers as she hurriedly climbed into the car. She’d seen it while canoeing around the lake with campers. It sat on a hill, removed from the camper bunks. Secluded for the counselors who liked their job but didn’t totally love it.
Back in her car, she watched Hottie McSoccer Star continue to burn up the field with a gaggle of kids running at his heels and screaming with delight. Good god, those legs. This was so not the place to try to meet a guy, but it didn’t hurt to look, right? Maybe their paths would cross at some point and she could get a better look.
Lorie dropped her bags inside the door of the counselor cabin, threw her guitar over her back, and headed for the music pavilion.
Chapter 11
Lorie
Cabin lights glowed yellow against the night. Sounds of campers protesting bedtime mingled with crickets. Lorie yawned as she walked past the row of camper bunks, guitar over her back, picking her way through the warm darkness on a path she was barely able to see in the fading light. After a long day, the sand spilling in her eyes didn’t help. Pulling her phone out, she found the flashlight app, and bright white light flooded her path.
In the distance, a door shut. She looked up to the porch of the counselor cabin where a light burned bright, knowing that was where the sound had come from. Who would be her bunk mate this weekend? Cheri from water sports? She was usually an out-of-cabiner. Cheery and enthusiastic, but not the kind of person who delighted in getting ten campers ready for bed.
She pushed through the door expecting to find Cheri. But the cabin was empty. And surprisingly sparse—a single center room with four doors off to the sides. Lorie peeked in the nearest one, flipping on the light to find a single bed, a wooden chair, a mirror, a box fan, and a shared bathroom leading to another room just like it on the far side. A bead of sweat ran down Lorie’s back. She searched the floor, the ceiling, and then the window. Ugh. Not a single air-conditioning source in the whole place. Great.
Two other doors hung open to the main room. Doors she assumed led to identical rooms. The door across from the one she currently stood in was closed. Light seeped through a crack underneath it and she could just make out the faint sound of a fan humming on the other side. Maybe Cheri wasn’t in yet.
A light breeze drifted through an open window, sending her ponytail over her shoulder. When Lorie caught a whiff of her own b.o., she decided a shower was in order. Because even if the place didn’t have AC, it did have a shower she didn’t have to share with kids.
When she emerged from the shower it was 7:55. Time to start her patrol. She pulled on shorts and an oversized T-shirt. It was still hot as blue-blazes inside the cabin. A walk outside, she hoped, would cool her off. She tossed her hair into a topknot and slipped into her sneakers.
Back in the main room, she plugged her phone in to charge and took a walkie-talkie and flashlight off a table. Tucking them into her waistband, she tiptoed to the door that was still closed, placing her ear near enough to try and hear what was going on behind it. Is Cheri okay? She didn’t hear anything, and it wasn’t like Cheri to be so anti-social. She leaned closer. So close, the solid wood door drowned out the crickets singing outside.
The next second, a giant whoosh of air sucked over Lorie, stirring the tendrils of her hair and pulling her along with it, too caught off guard to resist. She fell through the door opening only to be caught by two hands. Two hands that were certainly not Cheri’s.
She looked up. Frozen. Locking eyes with the one who had found her eavesdropping. And found eyes blue enough to bathe in—a familiar swimming hole that was the absolute last place she needed to get wet in.
Shit.
Chapter 12
Saam
Fate.
Saam had never given much thought to the phenomenon before. In his mind, fate was little more than good timing and great preparation. Kind of like luck, only the kind you’ve earned. But such uncertainties held very little weight for a scientifically trained brain such as his. The belief that mystical forces were at work in the world sounded like a childhood fairytale.
Until he’d open a door and Lorie Braddock had all but fallen into his arms. Karma? Maybe. He’d volunteered to be the doctor for Camp Sunshine because he truly believed in the cause and who better to treat children with diabetes than a physician who hoped to revolutionize their treatment protocols with his own groundbreaking research? It wasn’t like he expected anything in return for his services. He’d even donated his salary back to the camp.
But, hey, if the world wanted to throw him a boner bone for his good deed, who was he to argue?
Altruistic reasoning was all well and good. But it didn’t do him a damn thing standing in the cabin by himself. Because the moment realization had hit Lorie—something that made her warm brown eyes spark even more delightfully wide than they already were—she’d mumbled some excuse and leapt out of his arms.
Instead of smiling at their happy coincidence, she’d run off into the night like Cinderella fleeing the stroke of midnight. And he was left standing in the doorway mentally incapacitated by karma and a ball sack that suddenly felt leaden, staring at his empty hands where she had been seconds ago.
He shook his head, walked over to a worn couch, sat down, and forced his blood to fight gravity so he could think. Light filtered from a room to his right. He peeked inside but didn’t have to see her belongings to know. The smell of
orange blossoms lifted off the scant furnishings. He inhaled until he was dizzy.
What the hell am I doing inside when she’s outside?
He grabbed another flashlight and tore out of the cabin door.
“Lorie! Wait up!” He leapt off the porch in the direction of a flashlight beam, assuming it was hers. Dodging trees and hurdling limbs as he went. He was panting by the time he caught up with her.
“Dr. Sherazi, I’m sorry,” Lorie said the moment he’d caught up to her. “I assumed you were Cheri from water sports. I never would have…” Through the darkness Saam could see her discomfort. It was palpable.
“Don’t worry about it.” He waved a hand, walking fast to maintain her pace. What was she running from? “I didn’t realize you worked here.”
“I volunteer once a month. What are you doing here?” The words came out harsh. An accusation almost.
“They approached me about working as the camp doctor when I joined the board of the Children’s Hospital. It was a perfect fit. I had no idea you would be here. But how…perfect.” He rambled, his brain unable to catch up.
“Of course, it is.” Lorie breathed deeply, her face hidden in the shadow from her flashlight. Saam couldn’t tell if it was relief or annoyance.
“Do you mind if I join you?”
“Why would I mind? But we shouldn’t talk.” She paused and then continued in a rush of words. “We’re not supposed to. The campers are trying to sleep.” She pushed ahead, and once again left Saam running to keep up.
He stayed silently at her side. Walking. Chancing sideways glances when he could. Lorie remained a statue, staring only where her flashlight shone. Not once turning his way. Like she feared what lay outside the illuminated path. They made one pass through the cabins. All was quiet, and she turned off the light and turned toward the road that wound around the lake to walk back to the counselor cabin.
“Are you upset that I’m here?” Saam asked, because that was the question that had been running through his mind the entire time.
“Why would I be upset?” Lorie asked with a forced smile.
“Because I got a warmer reception from Tug,” Saam joked.
Lorie stopped walking, turned to the lake, and stared over the moonlit water. In a rush of orange blossom and blond hair, she turned back.
“I am glad you’re here.” Lorie closed her eyes and shrugged. “That’s the problem.”
Saam stilled, standing quietly until Lorie’s eyes opened and pleaded with him. Encouraged, he stepped closer. Lorie raised her hands and stepped back.
“I’m not following you.”
“Dinner we could get away with. Switching phones was an innocent mistake. But what do you think all those gossipy nurses of yours would say if they found out we were holed up in a cabin all weekend? By ourselves.” Lorie inhaled deeply, her face rigid.
“I don’t know. Maybe that we’re adults? Maybe that we have a professional relationship? Maybe that we’re here to help the kids?” Saam stepped back, running a hand up the back of his neck.
“You’re right. We know that. Of course.” Lorie stepped away, her words high and halting as she quickly agreed with him. “But I worry what it may look like. My job is everything to me. I haven’t worked so hard to let gossip and suppositions undermine it all.”
“Lorie, no one has to know that we even know each other. I’m here because of my affiliation with the Children’s Hospital. You’re here because…”
“I’ve volunteered here for years. My childhood best friend was one of their first campers.”
“Okay. So, see? No one has to know that we bunked up. My lips are sealed. Your professional reputation is just as sterling as it ever was.”
“Forgive me, but I’ve run into a lot of asshole guys lately that say one thing and do another.” Lorie’s face twisted as soon as the words were out. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I…” Only she didn’t finish the thought.
“Why would I talk about sharing a cabin with you to anyone?”
Lorie shrugged.
“You act like dialogue is a thing I do, Lorie. You know as well as any my proclivity for interpersonal communication.”
Lorie paused, her eyes flashing back to him and then going wide. Slowly, she shook her head, and let out a small breath.
“Why do you do that?” Lorie asked, her lips fighting the smile they wanted to embrace.
“Do what?”
“Talk like a hero from an Austen novel? Proclivity? Seriously? Who even knows what that word means anymore?”
“It refers to a tendency to do things in a regular way or manner.”
“I know what it means.” Lorie held up a mocking hand to stop him. “I cut my teeth on Austen novels. But I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say the word out loud.” Lorie’s palm rolled over and her head tilted to the side. “Except you.”
“How is it my responsibility that the world has lost its ability to properly use the King’s English?”
“It’s not,” Lorie agreed in a whisper. Her eyes softened, and her gaze fell to her feet.
“I personally blame cell phones. The absence of true interaction is affecting human society in ways we can’t even imagine.” Saam took the flashlight from her hand, turned it on, and pointed it in the direction of their cabin. “Our kids are in big trouble.”
“I don’t disagree with that.”
It was a silent walk back. Lorie kicked rocks. Saam tried to read her thoughts. And ignore his growing attraction. Amal was right, of course. Like always. The thought that he couldn’t have her made him want her even more.
When they reached the soft porch light, she finally spoke, a hand placed on his arm, leaning into him even though she continued looking down, like the words somehow embarrassed her. “Thank you, Dr. Sherazi.” Lorie’s eyes fluttered up, and somewhere in the dark brown depths of them Saam found something that made his chest tighten. “If circumstances were different, and you weren’t my client…” She blushed before she continued but didn’t lose her nerve. “Well, every girl dreams of dating an Austen hero, don’t they?”
She choked on the words. Just a little bit. Just a tiny little quiver right at the end. But it was there. And it was enough to give him hope. Hope was dangerous.
In return for her words, he offered a tight smile. He could offer nothing more. The tightening in his chest crawled up his neck, paralyzing his throat, and making his Adam’s apple incapable of speech. Because what was he supposed to say to that? It was everything and it was absolutely nothing. Seconds passed. They were still staring at each other. Awkward.
He cleared his throat and took control of his voice. “That hamburger wasn’t enough to fill me up after a day of soccer. I was going to run to Alice’s office and see if I can find something to snack on. Are you hungry?”
“You won’t find anything in her office,” Lorie said conspiratorially. “I’ve looked before. Go to the mess hall. There’s a cabinet to the left of the refrigerator. That’s where they keep the good stuff.”
“The camp contraband?” Saam asked, his smile wicked.
“Sugar for days,” Lorie said over her shoulder as she turned back to the row of camper cabins. “Good luck. I’m going to do another check.”
Chapter 13
Lorie
Hottie McSoccer Star.
Dr. Sherazi.
Those damn legs of his.
Lorie face-palmed in the darkness. Why hadn’t she thought of the possibility? It was a long shot, but still. If she had, maybe she wouldn’t be in the mess she found herself in.
Truth was, walking in the dark beside Saam Dr. Sherazi made Lorie feel for all the world like a lovestruck teenager mooning over her camp crush. Was it the fresh summer breeze? One that cooled the perspiration raging hot across the bridge of Lorie’s nose. Or maybe the way the
air lifted off the lake and mingled through the trees that made things seem so damn romantic.
Because there was just no way. She should not be having these feelings. Fantasies, yes. Feelings, no.
It was pointless. Things couldn’t go anywhere with them, so why even try? Had Dr. Sherazi come along from a chance meeting at a bar or maybe even a hot night from a single swipe right, Lorie could have embraced her situation. She needed the chance to forget herself for a bit. But he was her client, which placed him squarely on the no-fly list. It was unprofessional. And since her life was currently defined by her job, Dr. Saam—and those deliriously blue eyes of his—would forever remain on the damn-he’s-hot list.
She made her final lap around the camper cabins and made up her mind. No more hottie doctors tonight. The temptation was simply too much. And strong as she was, his casual suggestion that he could keep his mouth shut made the situation that much worse.
Because wasn’t that everything? The satisfaction of forgetting herself with him and the assurance that their secret would remain just that was too tempting. It was enough to make her thighs tingle.
Tingling was not what her thighs needed to be doing right now. Slipping into jammies and going to bed, that’s what all of her should be doing. Cresting the top step to the counselor cabin, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, prepared to throw a quick wave and good night over her shoulder—hopefully without having to make eye contact (if the gods of unacceptable crushes are listening, please don’t let those eyes of his meet mine)—and scamper off to her bedroom.
Where she would lock the door. Move a chair in front of it if she had to. And go straight to sleep. No fooling around. No funny business. Yes, she could be an adult about the current situation she found herself in. And her damn thighs would simply have to deal with that fact best they could.
“I’m off to bed,” she said in a tone that was all business the instant her foot crossed the threshold. Eyes fixed on the knob of her bedroom door, she sprinted for the brass fixture as if reaching it was a gold medal moment for her self-control. She could tell he was there. In the main room. Lounged on the couch if her periphery vision was worth a shit. But she didn’t look. She couldn’t if she wanted her knees to keep working.